CHAPTER 7

It was a beautiful September afternoon and Catherine cast a wistful glance out the office window as she took a sip of her stale coffee. Her thoughts turned from the bright late summer day to the tunnels below, to a world that was only lit by candles -- and by the spirits and hearts of its inhabitants. She hadn’t seen Vincent since she’d left the tunnels last Sunday morning. She knew he was busy taking up his old life again. It wouldn’t be easy for him to adjust to the routine of his world after the freedom he’d experienced out there at her cabin, but she knew how much he had missed his family and that he would find being back home to be fulfilling in its own way.

Catherine wished she could be with him more, be by his side in the difficult situation he was facing. It wasn’t only that her work left her little time to go Below. It was mainly because she felt a little like an intruder when she watched him with the people of his world. Now that she thought of it, she realized the reason for that wasn’t so much that Vincent’s family regarded her as an outsider. It was rather that she couldn’t really acclimate herself in Vincent’s world of darkness. Yet she longed to be with him as much as possible. She just wished she were able to help him more. Whenever she saw him with Mary or his father, the deep lines of worry on his face wrenched her heart.

Vincent’s father. A fond smile crossed Catherine’s face as she thought of the old man. He must be a remarkable person to have founded a world like that and to have taken in an abandoned child who was so unusual and had caused such a lot of conflict among the community. Her smile faded as she remembered the underlying pain in Vincent’s voice as he had related to her the story of his being found among the cast-offs of St.Vincent’s Hospital. Losing a parent was hard enough, but the knowledge that someone simply had abandoned you must be devastating. And yet he had become the man he was, thanks to Father and the other good-hearted people who had nurtured and reared him as one of their own.

The phone rang and jerked Catherine from her musings. She picked up the receiver.

"Catherine Chandler," she said automatically. Elliot’s voice startled her. Lately she’d avoided thinking of him too much.

"Hi, Elliot," she replied evenly.

"I heard you’re back in town," he said, "We haven’t seen each other in a while, but I’d really like to talk to you, Cathy."

He has every right to look for a few answers, Catherine thought, sighing inwardly.

"How about lunch tomorrow?" she asked, quickly scanning her calendar.

"Sounds great. Thanks, Cathy. I’m looking forward to seeing you."

She didn’t know what to reply to that. After all, it wasn’t Elliot’s fault that she dreaded seeing him. "12:30?" she asked.

"Perfect. I’ll send my chauffeur for you," he said.

With a sigh, Catherine hung up the receiver. She thought that she should have talked to Elliot much sooner. He deserved the truth, and it was her fault that he was still harboring hopes regarding their relationship. Fortunately there was still time to think of a way to tell Elliot the truth without giving away Vincent’s secret. Chewing her bottom lip, she wished there was a way of talking to Vincent first. With reluctance, she picked up her pencil and returned to the work that was waiting for her on the desk.

*

Dry autumn leaves rustled under his boots as Vincent made his way through the night-darkened park. He stopped and inhaled deeply, savoring the fresh, crisp smell of the air. This was his first venture Above since he’d returned to the tunnels about a month ago, and he realized that he had missed the open sky more than he cared to admit. Clamping down on the nostalgia that threatened to invade his mind, he walked on, yet thoughts of Catherine stirred gently in his soul, and this time he was unable to resist. It was hard to accept that he couldn’t go and visit with her in her apartment, but that was a promise he’d given to himself and to the council. He would take no such risk, regardless of what it cost him. Catherine had been Below a few times, and they had spent wonderful hours of closeness, although there was hardly any privacy to be as close as they both craved to be. The mere thought of her, of the looks they’d exchanged and the kisses they’d shared, heated his blood. He knew that she felt the same, and that it was just as difficult for her to be patient as it was for him.

Vincent knew that he would find a way to go to her without running the risk of being seen. All he had to do was to find Stewart Colwyn and his people and to figure out how to avoid them. That was the reason why he’d come to the park tonight. He was almost disappointed that he didn’t encounter anyone or anything that raised his suspicion.

Crouching behind the trunk of a tree, he waited for a group of young men to pass by. None of them fitted the detailed description Catherine had given him of Stewart Colwyn. She had also shown him a small black and white copy of the man’s photo. He’d been on a talk show once, where he’d spoken about his goal to make the streets of Manhattan safe for everyone. He’d even been honored for his repeated help in getting criminals convicted, those who’d assaulted and robbed people in the park or in subway stations. Vincent shook his head at the irony of it all, for basically Stewart Colwyn and he had the same dream, yet they would always be opponents, and all they could ever share was deadly enmity.

Vincent neared the spot where he’d been surprised by the armed men whom he’d had to kill in the end. The hairs along his spine bristled and rose as he reached the site. Nothing was there to give away what had happened at this place months ago. There was something, however, a faint vibration that lingered in the air, which caused a low growl to start in Vincent’s chest. He held his breath to fight the overwhelming need to release a roar, but when the internal pressure became too great, he started breathing in short, labored gasps. Suddenly there were voices that reached him from the far side of the lawn, and Vincent quieted at once as all his senses snapped into instant alertness. Soundlessly he melted back into the shadows of a small grove, making sure there were several routes of escape open to him before he concentrated on the group of people that crossed the clearing. The three men were armed and their presence in this place, at this time of night, indicated that they were doing security rounds of some kind. Vincent watched calmly as they passed by and waited patiently until they were out of sight. With a sigh, Vincent set out to pursue them and watch them from afar. It was probable that Stewart Colwyn had established a network of people all over the city who shared his ideas of safety, and the only way for Vincent to be safe was to make himself as familiar as possible with the man’s way of thinking and acting.

Vincent realized that it would take a lot of time and work to learn all he needed to know, but now that Mary was on her way to complete recovery and Father was his old self again, the nights were his once more. Soon, very soon, he would be able to visit with Catherine again, but until then he had to keep his mind clear and his awareness focused. He knew all too well that he couldn’t allow himself the slightest mistake.

*

Catherine toyed listlessly with the colorful fan she was holding in her lap. Folding and unfolding it, she thought that it had been a mistake to attend Jenny’s Halloween party. She simply wasn’t in the mood for that. She hadn’t seen Vincent in more than two weeks and was sick with worry that he’d come to harm during his quest to learn everything he could about his hunters. No matter how hard Catherine had tried to find out more about Stewart Colwyn, she had nothing in her hands that she could use against him. Since his appearance on a talk show several weeks ago, media and the public even regarded him as some kind of a hero.

"What’s wrong with you, Cath?" Jenny asked with concern, putting her arm around Catherine’s shoulder.

Catherine shrugged. "Why are you asking?"

"Because you’re sitting here alone and you’re wearing the same dress as last year; and besides you just seemed miles away," Jenny replied. "I remember that you always used to enjoy Halloween parties very much."

"I guess I did," Catherine said on a sigh.

Jenny shook her head reproachingly. "Sounds serious," she observed. "Maybe I shouldn’t have talked you into coming." She seemed lost in thought for a moment and then continued, "Look, Cathy, I’m not normally a matchmaker, but I thought that you and Elliot should talk. You should try to work things out between you. It’s..."

Catherine cut her off. "Thanks, Jenny, but you don’t understand. Elliot and I aren’t seeing each other anymore. It’s over."

Jenny shook her head. "That’s not what he told me."

Catherine stared at her friend in surprise. "You talked to him? When?"

"Yesterday, I’m afraid." She slanted an uneasy look at Catherine. "I’m sorry, but I told him that you’d be here tonight. I didn’t know that you don’t want to see him. I..."

"It’s not like that," Catherine sighed. "We didn’t have a fight or anything. It’s just that I told him there’s someone else in my life and he didn’t believe me."

"And?" Jenny prodded. "Is it true?"

Catherine hesitated briefly before she replied, "Yes."

"Who is he?" Jenny’s voice betrayed her excitement.

"That’s the problem, Jen. I can’t talk about that right now, and I couldn’t tell Elliot either. No wonder he didn’t believe me."

Jenny clicked her tongue. "Sounds awfully complicated. What’s wrong with your man? Is he married?"

Catherine smiled and shook her head.

"Thank god," Jenny exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "Then, what?" Not waiting for a reply, she glanced toward the hallway and added, "Oh god, he’s here. I’m sorry Cath. I didn’t mean to..."

Catherine stopped her friend by touching her arm gently. "It’s all right, Jen. I’ll deal with that. Just leave us alone for a moment please."

Jenny nodded and with a last look from Catherine to Elliot and back again, she disappeared into the crowd.

"Cathy," Elliot greeted her and pulled up a chair to sit opposite her. "I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you."

"I’m only here because of a promise I gave Jenny," Catherine replied. "Look, Elliot, it’s not easy for me to sit here with you, because you won’t accept the truth. And the truth is that I don’t love you -- not the way you claim to love me."

Elliot reached across the table and covered her hand with his. "How can you be so sure about that? You didn’t even give us a real chance."

"What would you consider a real chance, Elliot? If I slept with you?"

He withdrew his hand and smiled sadly. "You sound very hostile, Cathy. What did I do to deserve that?"

Catherine took a deep breath. He was right. "I’m sorry," she said at last. "I didn’t mean to sound hostile. It’s just that things haven’t exactly been easy for me, and I really thought I made myself clear when I told you that..."

"That there’s someone else in your life," he finished for her. "I heard you, but you can’t hold it against me if I try to win you back." He reached for her hand again. "I love you. I never felt for anybody what I feel for you. I want you to be my wife." Without releasing her hand, he stood and rounded the table, sitting down on the chair next to her. "Cathy, will you marry me?"

"Elliot," Catherine groaned, "didn’t you hear a word of what I said last time?"

"I’m sorry," he said contritely. "Of course I heard you, but I want you to know that I, too, mean what I said. I believe in us, Cathy. I really do, and I know that one day you’ll believe it, too."

Catherine stared at him in bewilderment. He didn’t take anything she said seriously. "Please, Elliot, leave me alone," she said helplessly.

Elliot rose to his feet, staring down at her with desperation in his eyes. "Why, Cathy?" he pleaded. "What you and I have is special. I don’t want us to lose that. We belong together. I’ll do everything I can to convince you of that."

Suddenly a hush fell over the room and Catherine looked up to find the cause. She thought her heart would stop beating when she caught sight of Vincent as he emerged from the hallway. He moved toward her, crossing the room with long, graceful strides, his cloak swaying about his tall frame with every step he took. He didn’t even wear his hood, but showed his face freely, his impressive mane displayed over the broad expanse of his shoulders. She swallowed hard as he came to a halt in front of her and Elliot.

"Catherine," he greeted her, his voice rich and deep, "I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner." And with a sidelong glance at Elliot, he asked, "Won’t you introduce us?"

It took Catherine a moment to regain control over her senses, but then she moved to Vincent’s side and linked her arm through his. "Elliot," she said, "this is Vincent." She was certain that the look she gave him left no doubt about her feelings for him. "Vincent," she continued, "this is Elliot."

Inclining his head, Vincent regarded Elliot silently.

"Well," Elliot said slowly, extending his hand, "I’m pleased to meet you, Vincent." From the look on his face, Catherine could tell that Elliot believed her at last.

"Elliot?" Jenny’s voice came from behind them. "May I talk to you for a minute?"

Catherine met Jenny’s meaningful gaze and, grateful for her friend’s interference, she looked after her as she led Elliot away. Casting quick glances around herself to make sure that they couldn’t be overheard, Catherine whispered, "Vincent, what are you doing here?"

Vincent placed one hand on her back as he guided her toward the terrace door and opened it, gesturing for her to precede him outside. He closed the door carefully before taking her in his arms. "I’ve felt your unrest, Catherine, and your sadness. Your feelings were so strong that I could easily locate you."

"You’ve been Above?" she asked incredulously.

"It’s Halloween," he said with a slight shrug as if that would explain everything.

She laughed. "You’re impossible."

"That’s what I’ve been told," he retorted drily. He cocked his head toward the door. "What did Elliot do to upset you so?"

"He didn’t believe me when I told him that I love someone else. He thought I made you up." Catherine hesitated, uncertain if she should tell him everything.

"And?" Vincent urged, leaving no doubt that he was aware of her uncertainty.

"And he asked me to marry him," Catherine finished at last.

There was an eloquent silence between them that Catherine was reluctant to break.

"And now?" Vincent pursued gently.

"Now he knows that I told him the truth when I said that I love someone else," she said, rising on tiptoes to press a tender kiss on Vincent’s lips. He responded with an intensity that took her breath away. "Vincent!" she admonished in a hushed voice, cocking her head toward a group of people at the far side of the terrace, "we’re not alone out here."

He didn’t even look in their direction, he just kept his gaze locked to hers, studying her intently.

"What?" she asked, a little disconcerted by his behavior.

"I’ve missed you, Catherine," he confessed huskily and she dissolved into his arms, hugging him tight.

"I’ve missed you, too," she whispered. "I can’t tell you how much. I thought my heart would burst with joy when I saw you walking toward me."

He pulled back a little and regarded her silently. Slowly his hand came up and he tilted her face to his, kissing her deeply. His lips were warm and still moist from the kiss they’d shared earlier, and she traced them lightly with her tongue. He moaned softly, capturing her tongue with his as he deepened the kiss until they both were breathless.

"Hey, buddy, be careful of that gorgeous makeup of yours," a skeleton remarked as he passed by them on his way into the ballroom.

Startled, Vincent released Catherine’s lips and leaned his forehead against hers. To her vast relief, she heard him chuckle softly.

"I’m sorry," she said, pressing a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Do you think we could leave now?" Vincent asked in a low voice that sent a shiver down her spine.

Hand in hand they went inside, and Catherine looked for Jenny to inform her of their departure.

"There you are," Jenny exclaimed brightly as she walked toward them. "Elliot left right after you appeared on the scene, Vincent. By the way, pleased to meet you at last." She extended her hand and seized Vincent’s gloved one.

"Vincent, this is my best friend Jenny Aronson," Catherine introduced happily. "And this is..."

"Mr. Secret," Jenny finished for her, winking mischievously.

Catherine laughed. "I was looking for you because I wanted to thank you and because I wanted to tell you that Vincent and I are leaving now."

Jenny arched one eyebrow. "It’s about time," she said with a suggestive grin.

Catherine cast a quick sidelong glance at Vincent, but his expression was unreadable.

"Bye, Jen," she said. "I’ll talk to you later."

"How about lunch next week?" Jenny called after them as they headed for the elevator.

"Sounds great," Catherine called back before the elevator doors closed.

*

They were holding hands as they strolled down the sidewalk, and Vincent thought how strangely wonderful it was to walk the city streets openly with this beautiful woman at his side. His woman, he added to himself, helpless to resist the thought. A jolt of desire made his heart beat faster and he gasped as he felt the heat of passion centering in his groin. Catherine looked at him askance, but he didn’t dare meet her eyes. The power of his feelings frightened him.

"Will you come home with me?" Catherine asked almost shyly.

His rational mind told him to decline, that he shouldn’t be alone with her now, but he pushed reason back, giving in to his irrational, emotional side that screamed out in protest at the mere thought of having to leave her now. Finally he just nodded.

They entered the foyer of Catherine’s apartment building, and Vincent watched as she exchanged greetings with the night porter. As they rode up in the elevator, he was grateful that they didn’t encounter anyone else.

By the time Catherine let them into the apartment, Vincent was watching her every move with rapt attention. His impatience to be close to her, to hold her to him and touch her grew by the minute. It disconcerted him to realize that he detested the mere thought of trying to regain his self-control. He didn’t even want to think of it, to think at all.

Catherine shed her coat and reached out to take his cloak. He hesitated briefly before handing it to her and she cast him a concerned look.

"What is it, Vincent?" she asked throatily. "Does it make you uncomfortable to be here with me?"

The way she looked at him made his heart twist in his chest. She was so trusting, completely unaware of that other side of him. When they’d been this close before, in the mountains and woods and beneath the open sky, that side of him had been reined in by the calm and steady rhythm of nature. But here among the frantic ebb and flow of city life, the wild and untamed side throbbed dangerously close to the surface.

Inhaling deeply, Vincent averted his eyes. "It scares me that I want you so much," he confessed quietly. Her hand cupped his cheek and she stroked his bottom lip with her thumb. Instant arousal leapt through him and he pulled away. "Please," he said, taking a step in retreat.

"Vincent," she whispered, and he was grateful that she remained where she was. He needed this small distance. His control had never been more fragile, and he was afraid that if he touched her now when he was so close to losing control, she would glimpse something in him that might frighten her.

Her voice was entreating when she spoke again. "Would you prefer that we go for a walk?" she asked. "I don’t want you to think I expect us to..."

"I know that," he interrupted her hoarsely.

"Then -- what is it? There’s something about you that eludes me. This emotional distance hurts me even more than miles between us ever could."

Carefully, Vincent unclenched his fists and dried his sweating palms on his trousers. "Catherine," he rasped, unable to say anything more although a thousand things whirled through his mind.

"Yes?" she breathed and the simple word fueled a need in him unlike any he’d felt before. He pivoted and locked his gaze to hers, no longer caring that she would see the raw hunger burning in his eyes. Slowly he advanced toward her, his loins burning with his desire to bury himself inside her. He stopped just inches before her and stared down on her slightly parted lips.

"I don’t know what it is that I’m feeling now," he said in a voice so low that it sounded strange to his own ears.

She reached up and smoothed his hair back from his temples, burying her fingers in the thick strands. "Try to tell me," she asked, meeting his stare unafraid.

His gaze flickered. "It is something primal and strong, and I’m afraid that I can’t control it," he replied, his voice all but deserting him.

She released his hair and reached down to the buttons of her dress, undoing them one by one. Her actions drove him to distraction and he brushed her hands away, finishing the task for her. The dress fell open and he reached for her bra to push it aside, eager for the feel of her breasts against his palms. They both gasped at the touch of skin on skin, and instinctively he bent forward to enclose her hardened nipples with his lips. She strained toward him, and her desire for his caress fueled a need in him that left him breathless and shaking.

"No," he gasped, jerking his hands away, "not like this." But when he wanted to withdraw, she pulled him to her again.

"We’ll find our way through this, Vincent," she whispered. "Trust me."

With a groan he pulled her close, no longer trying to hide his arousal from her. He was helpless to resist moving against her, and his small tentative pushes quickly became rhythmic trusts. She reached between them and undid the buttons of his jeans. He grasped her small, cool hand and pressed it against his heated skin. "I need you so much," he panted. "It’s like a fever." She shrugged out of her dress and let it slide to the floor. Then she tugged at his hands, guiding him into the bedroom. She helped him out of his clothes and pulled him onto the bed beside her.

The fire in her eyes made him dizzy, and his head spun with the heady scent of her passion. She moaned as he started trailing ardent kisses across her body, and his hands shook as he cupped her breasts, kneading them as gently as he could. A wave of passion drowned out his ability to think and he pulled his hands away. "No," he panted heavily. "I can’t. I mustn’t." He rolled away from her but she followed, pressing his shoulders down with her weight.

"Let me love you," she pleaded, "please..." He stared at her in desperation, but she kept looking at him calmly, steadily. "Please," she repeated softly. Suddenly the tension drained from his body and he dropped his head onto the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. He fought to concentrate on something else, but then he felt her lips on his chest and closed his eyes in surrender.

She loved him with her mouth, trailing slow, languid kisses across his skin, and when she finally reached his sex and closed her lips around it, he dug his nails into the mattress, expelling a hiss through his gritted teeth. She shifted her weight and slid up his body to kiss his mouth, and he wove his fingers through her hair as he lost himself in the silent dance of their tongues. He wanted to turn her onto her back in order to mount her, but she sensed his intent and pushed him back, holding him in place with a single, pleading look. "Not yet," she said, and he moaned again as he felt her warm hand encircling him. Her fingers were soon followed by her lips and he cried out with pleasure when she began a rhythmic motion on him. He could hear his own breath coming in short, labored gasps, and his heart pounded frantically in his chest as if it would burst with ecstacy. Suddenly she released him, and as his eyes flew open in frustration, her face appeared above his own. Her gaze was a quiet question and suddenly -- he didn’t know how -- something changed within him. The heat in his groin was transformed into a gentle warmth around his heart. A tremor went through him and the intense need and passion from moments before was transmuted into something calm and sweet. This time she didn’t resist when he turned her onto her back and came to lie on top of her. He was helpless to understand what was happening, he just accepted it gladly. "I love you," he whispered, "and I belong to you."

She didn’t say a word, she just opened up to him, drawing him into herself while she rocked him gently in the cradle of her hips. He gave in to her rhythm and as they moved together his passion returned a thousandfold, but this time it felt right to want her like this, to crave the friction her female muscles created as she raised her hips to meet his thrusts. The moment he felt her nearing her peak, he withdrew from her body, cradling her close, stilling her whispered protest with lingering kisses. Reverently he skimmed his palms across her skin, relishing the flush and the shivers his lovemaking created. He kissed her neck tenderly, tracing the pulse in her throat with his tongue. The steady beat of her heart drew him back to her warmth, and when he entered her again, she locked her legs around his hips, making it very clear that she wouldn’t allow him to retreat again. He smiled and, framing her heated face with his hands, he kissed her closed eyelids gently. They fluttered delicately under his lips, and his heart went wide with tenderness and love. Slowly he began to move inside her, and his awareness of her wrapped around his soul like a soft morning breeze, coaxing every single nerve ending into agonizingly sweet arousal. Completion, when it claimed them at last, was not so much a release of sexual tension, but more a brilliance and intensity of sensation that made everything within and around them move into meaning.

They clung to each other breathlessly, listening inward where the rapid drumming of their hearts blended into one gentle hum that filled them with deep contentment and irresistible lassitude.

"I was so afraid," he murmured against her mouth, "that I might hurt you, that I might not be able to love you like before when I was balanced and at peace. I didn’t realize, Catherine, that you are my balance and my peace, no matter where I am."

Bracing himself on his elbows, he gazed down at her pensively, wondering if he would be able ever again to discern her feelings from his own, especially when they became as intense as they were now. Her eyes were huge and moist as she met his silent stare, and when she tugged at his shoulders to pull him close again he complied gladly.

"Between you and me," she breathed against his ear, "there is no room for darkness. It will always be just heaven breaking through."

*

"I wish you didn’t have to go," Catherine whispered as they were standing on her balcony looking out at the sky. A full moon hung just over the silhouettes of the buildings on the other side of the park. "Our time together is always so brief."

Vincent was engulfed by a wave of sorrow that reached him through the bond. His heart constricted with Catherine’s sadness, but it might have been his own just as well. He knew that nothing he could say would change the fact that they had to part without knowing how long it would be before they could be together again and share their bodies and souls like they just had.

"Look at the moon," Vincent said on impulse, pulling her close to his side. "It can’t be touched by the night just like our love can’t be touched by distance or time."

"Vincent," she replied, "I’m afraid for you. No matter how infinite our love may be, it cannot protect you from the dangers outside. It was selfish of me to persuade you to come here. I shouldn’t have..."

"Catherine," he interrupted her huskily, "don’t do this to yourself, to us. What we just shared is too precious to be marred by words or feelings of guilt. I’ll be safe, don’t worry."

He thought that his heart would break as he gently disengaged her clinging hands. Pressing a kiss on each palm, he released her and slowly turned to leave.

"Friday evening," she whispered after him, and he nodded.

"I’ll be waiting for you." With one last backward glance he retreated to the far corner of the terrace and began his ascent.

It was a clear night and his fingers were stiff and cold when he finally pushed himself over the edge of the wall onto the roof. Vincent concentrated on focusing his undivided attention on the task ahead as he slowly descended to the dark and narrow alley between Catherine’s building and the adjoining one. He could have ridden down on top of the elevator car, but the mere thought of being closed in like that made him nervous. There was something in the air that made him restless, and he fought to maintain his tight control over his senses.

Keeping to the shadows of the walls and trash bins, Vincent made his way to the manhole that led to a drainage pipe which connected to the tunnels. This wasn’t a way he could take often, especially not after it had rained.

He was just inside the hole and about to close the opening above his head with the heavy metal cover, when out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed two figures who retreated hastily into the shadows.

The manhole cover fell shut and Vincent waited, straining his ears to determine if anyone approached him. There wasn’t the slightest sound outside, yet his heart pumped forcefully and every part of him was ready to fight. The waiting seemed endless, but finally his breathing calmed and his pulse returned to its normal rate. Only now, Vincent decided that it was safe to resume his way home.

Chapter Eight