Magic

 
***

The beam of light from above seemed like a solid pillar to Catherine as she walked toward it. She stopped and turned, casting a wistful glance over her shoulder. Her heart ached so much that she thought it would smother her, but then she remembered the pain in Vincent’s eyes as he had looked at her, asking how she could ever look at him again. Oh God, it was her fault. It was all her fault. He had told her to stay away from the tunnels, but she hadn’t listened. The least she could do was listen now. All he had asked of her was to leave. It tore her apart to turn away from him at a time when he was so vulnerable, but there was truly nothing else she could do at the moment. She would have to ask for his forgiveness another time. Until then all she could do was love him and hope that he would come back to her. 

***

Vincent absentmindedly massaged the bridge of his nose. The letters on the page before him were beginning to blur, and he raised his eyes from the book to stare off into the semi-darkness of the room. The silence down here was so absolute that it had a song of its own. Not even the sound of the nearby river could reach him in this place. Normally the silence made it easier for Vincent to concentrate, but this time he couldn’t seem to turn off his thoughts. Too many things had happened lately, too many things had been left unresolved. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, and instantly Catherine’s face appeared before him. The sadness and concern in her expression gripped his heart, and he wanted to reach out and touch her, to do something, anything, to make her smile.

Resolutely he pushed his feelings aside and returned his attention to the book. He had followed every single instruction to the letter. The potion was ready for him to consume. His gaze wandered to the black onyx chalice and he remembered the first and only time he had tried this particular magic. As he extended his hand to reach for the cup, a shudder ran down his spine. Pain, madness, and a near brush with death had been the result of that experiment almost twenty years ago. With an odd sense of detachment, Vincent watched his hand as he held it over the chalice. Slowly he curled his fingers into a taut fist to keep them from shaking. It was better not to think of the past. He had been far too young then, too inexperienced in the ways of magic. His need to transform himself, to become an entirely human being, had been too great. This time he would do better. This time he would not allow his desperation to interfere with the procedure of magic. Everything was ready. All he had to do was light the incense, drink the potion, and invoke his body’s atoms to rearrange. He had studied the scriptures meticulously. If he truly was what he appeared to be -- a creature between the levels of man and animal -- there were only two directions the spell could take. Either it would render him human or he would be tossed into the oblivion of the beast. Even the latter was preferable to what he was now: A semi-human being with the moral sense of a scholar and humanitarian and the instincts of a predator.

Suddenly there were voices in his head, distant screams intermingled with his own inhuman roars. A chill went through his soul and he leapt to his feet and spun around, claws flexed and ready to strike. For long, breathless moments he expected to see the ghosts of those who had died at his hands coming at him, but aside from the frantic pounding of his heart everything was quiet again. He took a few calming breaths and staggered back to his chair, slumping down with a growl. How could he ever hope to regain some measure of inner peace? How could he ever look in Catherine’s eyes again? She had seen him kill before, but never like that. Never before had his rage been so terrible, so inhuman, as when he had lost himself in destroying those who had become a deadly threat to his family and his world. And to her.

The memory of Catherine in the arms of those men brought a hoarse groan from him and he threw back his head, staring up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes.

Gradually he calmed and his reason for being in his secret chamber came back to him. He had to make another effort for Catherine’s sake as well as his own. He knew he was very close. He could feel it. The power was there, energizing everything within and around him. He knew that it was this very power which also lent increased strength to his nightmares, but once he drank the potion, those would be easily overcome.

He struck a match and lit the incense, inhaling deeply of the resinous scent before his hand closed around the shiny black stem of the goblet. This time he would step into the unknown, even though it might be the last thing he would ever do.

The bitterness of the liquid made it momentarily impossible for him to concentrate on the mental part of his work, and as he struggled to focus on his goal, his body responded with a series of violent shivers. Gripping the edges of the table, he tried to anchor himself as, slowly and with utmost accuracy, he began to recite the words that would carry him through the transformation.

Vincent was about halfway through the procedure when a sudden flicker of the candles diverted his attention. There were no drafts so far below the pipe levels, at least not in this section of the lower tunnels where his secret study lay. He pushed himself from the chair to investigate the cause of the unusual disturbance. Ducking through the low entryway, he sniffed the air outside his hidden chamber. There was nothing out of the ordinary, yet the hairs along his spine bristled as if charged with electricity. A dark foreboding swept through him and he whisked around with sudden agitation. He had received warnings like that before and he knew better than to ignore them. Returning to his chair, he retrieved his pouch from the table and put the leather thong around his neck. The moment his hand closed around the small object the pouch contained, he knew with absolute clarity that Catherine was close by.

There was no time to consider the possible damage an interrupted sorcery might wreak. All he felt was that Catherine was in danger and he knew he must act immediately. Grabbing his cloak, he swung it around his shoulders and ran to where the bond guided him.

With long, swift strides Vincent moved through the tunnels toward the source of emotion that lured him so insistently. Catherine had to be very close for him to sense her this clearly. How had she been able to find her way so far below the home tunnels? No one had ever found him there before when he hadn’t wanted to be found. His heart pounded as if it would shatter to pieces. She shouldn’t be here in the first place, and to make matters even worse, she was coming through the maze, a dangerous place even for those accustomed to the perils of the underground world. Breaking into a run, Vincent berated himself for having been so insensitive as to send her away and then simply disappear without a word when things between them were so fragile.

Suddenly a powerful premonition erased all thought and drove him relentlessly toward his goal. An earth-shattering rumble filled every part of him as he rounded a bend and caught sight of Catherine’s familar shape at last. The ground beneath his feet was rising like an ocean wave. With a roar he launched himself toward her and pulled her with him to the floor, spreading his cloak over them both as he shielded her with his body from downfalling rocks and debris. Instinctively he moved just enough to prevent them both from being buried completely.

Gradually the rumbling subsided and the earth grew quiet again. Vincent raised his head, careful not to drop any of the debris onto Catherine’s face as he assessed the damage. A dull pain throbbed along the bond and his probing fingers encountered a warm, sticky liquid at the back of her head. Quickly scanning his surroundings, Vincent saw a large boulder which was so deeply embedded in the rock wall that it remained unaffected by the cave-in. He expelled a forceful breath as he lifted Catherine from the rubble and carried her to a small sheltered alcove beneath the boulder. There he placed her carefully on the floor and studied the extent of her head wound. Extending his hand as if in a caress, he held his palm slightly over the bleeding and closed his eyes. His inner senses told him the wound was rather superficial, and the only danger was that it might become infected. Without thinking twice, Vincent removed the canteen Catherine still had strapped to her shoulder and poured some water on a tissue he produced from her bag. Gently cleaning the wound as best he could, he concentrated his entire willpower on the bright shine of lifeforce surrounding her. Closing his eyes again, he exhaled and spoke a quiet word of command. When he looked at her head again, the gash had closed and only a crust of dried blood betrayed that it had been there.

 Vincent removed his cloak and spread it on the floor with a powerful sweep of one arm while he supported Catherine with the other. He laid her down gently, studying her with concern. She hadn’t moved since the moment he pulled her to the ground. Aside from the gash in the back of her head he hadn’t been able to detect any injury, yet her unconsciousness worried him.

She moaned softly, and he reached for her wrist to feel her pulse. To his relief it was steady and strong. Heaving a sigh, he raised his gaze to the tenuous beam of light that filtered in from somewhere high above them. It was highly unlikely that the cave-in had created a shaft all the way up to the surface, but of course that wasn’t entirely impossible. Catherine moaned again and his attention snapped back to her immediately.

Her face was pale and drawn, and Vincent experienced a stab of intense guilt. It wasn’t her fault that she had been forced to come this far below in search of him. Of course, she would worry when he had been gone for so long. He should have known her better than to believe she would simply stay away and patiently wait for his return. She had told him she loved him and he had closed his heart to her out of his selfish need to hide from his shame. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he cursed his own inability to respond to the enormity of her confession and her commitment.

Suddenly he heard her whisper his name and, bending closer, he reached for her hand.

“Catherine?”

She stared up at him with a frown. “What happened?” Her voice was so hoarse that it all but deserted her. Swiftly he reached for the canteen and supported her head while she drank.

“You’re safe,” he soothed. “I’m here. Everything will be all right.”

“Vincent?” she croaked. “Where are we?”

“How much do you remember?” he asked carefully.

A deep furrow formed between her brows as she tried to concentrate. “I…was searching for you,” she began, “but I can’t remember finding you.”

“You didn’t,” he said, recapping the canteen and storing it away. “I found you.”

“And just in time to safe my life it would seem,” she added wryly, struggling to sit up. Looking around her in the dim light from above, she asked, “What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied, trying to ignore a sudden stabbing pain in his joints, “but you chose a dangerous path down here. The maze is known for occasional cave-ins.”

Her eyes grew wide. “You mean we’re near the place where you and Father were trapped that time?”

Rubbing his wrists, he nodded, uncertain how to proceed without making her feel guilty. “How did you get this far?” he asked finally.

Catherine shifted her weight and leaned back against the rocky wall of the alcove. “You mean without help?”

He just stared at her silently, waiting for her to explain. She met his gaze with something akin to defiance before she began to speak.

“When...I didn’t hear from you for so long, I came below to ask Father and the others about you, but all they told me was that you had gone away and that it was something you always did when you needed to…find yourself again.”

He dropped his gaze and swallowed the bitter taste rising in his throat. “Yes,” he said, his voice raw with the effort to appear calm. “Whenever I…lose myself, I seek out the solitude of the dark.”

“To hide?” she asked, and he flinched involuntarily.

“Sometimes,” he conceded reluctantly, wincing with the pain in his knees as he settled down beside her.

“And at other times?” she persisted.

He avoided her eyes, trailing his fingers across the sandy floor. How could he explain this to her? How could he possibly expect her to understand?

“But I haven’t answered your question yet,” she said into the silence, and he relaxed, grateful for the respite he’d been offered. When he raised his eyes to hers again, the compassion and understanding he encountered there took his breath away. He gave her a slight nod of encouragement, and she continued. “I followed the bond, Vincent. I wasn’t sure I could do it, but it worked.”

Vincent wasn’t even surprised. He had suspected that much. The bond between them had been steadily growing throughout the last few months, a fact that excited and worried him at the same time because it posed a source of constant danger for her. A shudder ran through him and he looked away. Almost. He had almost been too late this time.

Her arm stole around his shoulders, and he tensed. How could she wish to touch him after all that had happened? After what she had seen? His neck felt suddenly cramped and he shifted his weight in an attempt to relax.

Finally she withdrew her arm and continued to speak. “Once I started concentrating on you, it was as if there was something like a thread of.. .energy between us. I felt a tingling warmth in the pit of my stomach and knew that I was coming closer to you. At other times I had a feeling as if a coolness passed through me. I knew that was when I moved away from you because as soon as I changed direction, it grew warm again. It was like a game I played when I was a child. Isn’t that strange?”

He shook his head. “Not really. In order to achieve something in the realm of the unknown, our mind draws upon familiar experiences and translates the new impulses into a language of the known.”

She gazed at him pensively, and he thought how desperately he had missed looking into her eyes. Shaking himself mentally, he asked, “Do the others…know that you came down here?”

She shook her head. “Only Zach, since he was on sentry duty when I passed the outer post, but I swore him to secrecy.”

“Then they won’t miss us for a while,” Vincent stated, staring down at his aching hands. Catherine placed her warm palm on his wrist.

“You mean Zack will be…‘subtle’ again and make sure that we have privacy?” she asked, and he felt a tingle of amusement rippling through her. Casting her a furtive glance, he saw a smile play around the corners of her mouth, and a sharp pain went through his heart. She was so beautiful, and all he could do to prevent himself from touching her was to get to his feet and put some distance between them.

“Vincent?” she called out and the concern in her voice tore at him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He spun around in sudden agitation. “You should never have come after me!”

She flinched, and before he knew it he was kneeling beside her again. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not your fault. I will get us out of here. Don’t worry.”

She looked at him apprehensively. “Are you telling me that we’re trapped in here?”

“I’m afraid so,” he replied, meeting her worried gaze with forced calmness. Her eyes widened in shock. Reaching for her hand, he gave it a reassuring squeeze. “We aren’t in as much danger as Father and I were back then,” he said, and pointing up to the small ray of light overhead, he added, “We can see and we won’t run out of oxygen, so we have time to think and find a way out.”

“And we aren’t hurt,” Catherine remarked, stretching her arms and rolling her head to emphasize her observation.

Vincent watched her silently, glad she couldn’t see the caked blood in her hair. “Yes,” he replied at last, returning her smile despite the sudden cramp in his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, willing the pain to the back of his mind. “I should have told you that I needed to go away for a while. And most of all, it was wrong of me to send you away when...” He paused, squeezing his eyes shut.

“When we needed each other so much,” she finished for him.

“After all that happened,” he murmured, avoiding her gaze, “I needed to regain my perspective.”

“About what exactly?” she asked, and he felt her eyes on him as she waited for his reply.

 He swallowed. “About...what I did.”

“What you had to do,” she amended, and he jerked his head up to meet the challenge in her eyes at last.

“Maybe...but not like that.”

She gave a helpless shrug. “Vincent, I’ve seen you kill before. I know how hard it is on you. It always has been. Why did it affect you so much more this time?”

With a suppressed groan, Vincent rose and ducked out of the alcove, needing to stretch his suddenly cramped muscles. There was a tight feeling in his chest that wouldn’t let him breathe. He knew she deserved the truth, but how would she receive it? He sighed heavily and turned to face her again.

“Because this time I made a conscious decision to kill them like that,” he said. “I knew that otherwise I wouldn’t have had a chance against them. And yet...”

He paused and watched her getting up on her knees. Sitting back on her heels, she stared at him intently. “I thought you had no control at all when you kill,” she finally said.

He sighed again, studying the tips of his dirt-covered boots. “The truth is that I can’t access that extraordinary strength within me as long as I’m rational,” he said at last. “So it was my decision to drop rationality, and that’s what caused the...rage...in the end.” He half-expected her to comment on that, but she didn’t. She made no sound at all; she just sat there waiting for him to continue. But as much as he would have liked to explain it to her, the words wouldn’t come. Slowly, he shook his head, instantly regretting it as the room began to spin about him. He had to get away from her in order to be alone for a moment. “Catherine,” he said, kneeling down before her, “this is very difficult to express. Please let’s talk about it later. Right now we should be concerned about finding our way out of here.”

She looked up at him solemnly, and he felt her disappointment all too clearly.

“All right,” she murmured. There was something in her gaze that made him want to weep. He didn’t deserve so much trust, didn’t deserve her concern for him, and least of all, her love.

Her voice all but startled him as she asked, “What can we do?”

“At first, I’ll try to find out where the light comes from,” he said, pointing upward as he straightened. “Will you be all right if I leave you alone for a little while? You’re safe here.”

She nodded mutely and his heart went out to her. There was so much she didn’t know about him, far too much. A chill swept through his heart as he realized that there seemed to be no way the chasm between them could ever be bridged.

“I won’t be long,” he promised, forcing an encouraging smile on his lips.

***

Rocks and stones broke loose beneath his feet as Vincent climbed up the rough cavern wall. There was an opening overhead, and he hoped fervently that it wouldn’t be too narrow for him to fit through. Breaking away a few chunks of rock, he finally squeezed through the crevice and lifted himself into a low corridor which opened into a faintly illuminated shaft. Cautiously edging closer to the light, he inhaled the smell of fresh air. He craned his neck to look up along the shaft, but it seemed endless and impossible to climb, so he withdrew his head and sat down to massage his aching ankles. The intensely bitter taste was back on his tongue and he closed his eyes against the wave of nausea that washed through him. He licked his lips and froze with terror when his tongue didn’t encounter his prolonged canine teeth as usual. His eyes flew open and he stared down at the backs of his hands. The russet tufts of fur were gone, and the bare skin shimmered whitely in the pale light from above. Still his mind would not acknowledge the truth. Even when his muscles convulsed and his tendons ached with the incipient change, he refused to resign himself to the transformation.

“No,” he heard his own voice reverberate through the tunnel. Not now, he prayed silently. Not like that. Not when I have no control over it.

Tears left a trail of coolness on his cheek before everything around him went black.

***

Catherine woke with a start. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, especially not in so uncomfortable a position. Raising her head, she looked around herself disorientedly. Was she only imagining things or was it brighter in here now? She looked up at the thin beam that slanted in through a crack in the ceiling, but there was a faint blue shine from outside as well. On her hands and knees she crawled over to the opening to peer around the corner. To her surprise she saw Vincent holding a softly glowing object in his hands as he investigated the broken wall at the far side of the cavern. Relieved to see he was back, she called his name, and to her surprise the light went out immediately. He turned and walked toward her and when he squatted down beside her, she realized that his hands were empty. Before she could make a remark, he began to speak.

“We should be able to get through there,” he explained, pointing at the wall behind him.

“Where did the light come from?” she asked.

“It’s daylight, filtering in from above,” he said, and she realized that he was misunderstanding her deliberately. “Many places below are connected with the surface more or less directly through shafts and crevices. Sometimes we place mirrors so we can make better use of the light, but in this case...”

“...there are no mirrors,” she finished for him.

“If there had been, they would be broken by now,” he added.

 
She nodded. “And what about the light you held out there?” she demanded.

His expression closed. “What did you see?” he inquired, and she couldn’t shake the impression that he sounded wary.

“I awoke and thought I saw you holding some sort of light out there,” she explained.

He shook his head thoughtfully. “You know I require very little light to see by,” he said evenly.

Catherine noted with surprise that he was evading her, but before she could reply, he was on his feet again. She watched as he returned to the broken wall and continued to remove rocks and stones. She rose and went to him.

“Let me help,” she said.

He paused, inclining his head as he looked at her. “That won’t be necessary, Catherine. Please step back a little. I don’t think this will take long. Maybe you should rest some more. We do have quite a walk ahead of us.”

“How long will it take us to get back home?” she asked.

Heaving a sigh, he said, “We won’t be able to return home right away. The cave-in cut us off from the direct route to the home tunnels.”

“Then where...?” she began.

“I’ve created a place,” he interrupted her question, “deep in the farthest reaches of the tunnel system. Sometimes I go there, spend some time there...”

“To find yourself,” she said.

“Among other things, yes,” he conceded. His reply puzzled her but before she could ask, he added, “I have a supply of food there, and we’ll be able to rest before we set off for home.”

***

Catherine thought that she must have dozed off again, for when she looked up, Vincent was standing before her, studying her thoughtfully. She cast him a smile and he returned it wearily.

“We can go now,” he said, extending his hand to help her up. She watched as he bent to retrieve his cloak. He shook off the dust before he placed the heavy garment about his shoulders.

Catherine felt tired and hungry, and the thought of the impending underground hike did nothing to lift her spirits. Vincent’s hand closed around hers and he gave it an encouraging tug. “It’s not that far,” he reassured her.

Walking through narrow tunnels and crawling through low passageways in near darkness took its toll on Catherine. Fortunately she had a tiny flashlight which was a vast consolation, although it was too weak to properly illuminate the way before her. After an hour or so the light flickered and died and they walked on in darkness.

She wondered how it was possible that Vincent could see anything at all down here, but she trusted him implicitly, and simply holding onto his warm, strong hand as she trailed behind him made her feel better already.

Suddenly Vincent stopped. “What is it?” she asked with concern.

“We will have to climb a little,” he explained evasively.

“Climb?” She didn’t relish the thought of climbing rocks in total darkness.

“I...will carry you,” he offered. “It’s not a long climb.”

“You don’t have to carry me,” she protested, releasing his hand. “If it’s not far, I’m sure I can feel my way up there.”

He was silent for a long moment, and she hated the fact that she couldn’t see his face.

“Very well then,” he said at last, taking her hand again. He pulled her gently toward a wall and put her palms against the rough stones embedded there. Judging from what her probing fingers told her, the wall must go up at an angle of almost ninety degrees. Before she could voice her concern, Vincent turned her slightly so that she stood directly facing the wall. Then he positioned himself behind her. “I will give you directions,” he promised, and she was grateful for his reassuring presence at her back.

Once they started climbing, it went better than expected. He explained to her where she would find her next handhold and made sure that she didn’t lose her footing. At one time he suddenly froze and pressed his body against her. A shudder ran through him, and Catherine thought she heard him release a muffled groan.

“Vincent’?” she asked into the darkness, glad that she could feel the reassuring pressure of his stomach and chest against her back as he held them both in place. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” came the quiet reply and they resumed their climb.

It was with relief that Catherine pulled herself over the edge of the wall at last. Vincent followed right behind and sat down beside her where she had sagged to the moist ground in order to catch her breath.

“We’re almost there,” came his comforting voice. “But please stay on your hands and knees for a while. The ceiling of this corridor is quite low.”

“Vincent,” she gasped, still out of breath. “Can we please rest for a moment?”

She heard the rustle of his clothes as he settled himself beside her and drew her onto his lap. Tears of relief gathered in her eyes as she leaned her head on his shoulder and allowed herself to relax.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she murmured into the coarse fabric of his cloak.

His hand came up and he cupped his warm palm around the back of her head. “I’m here,” he whispered, caressing her ear with the pad of his thumb.

***

Catherine looked around the strangely furnished chamber and tried to connect it to the Vincent she thought she knew. It was so different from his chamber in the home tunnels. Of course, there was no stained glass window here, and the few candles Vincent had lit only served to enhance the eerie atmosphere of the room with their restlessly dancing flames. The shelves along the walls were stuffed with countless books and manuscripts, some of which looked quite ancient and awe-inspiring. Catherine stepped closer and tilted her head in order to read the titles on the spines of the tomes, but she didn’t recognize any of them. They sounded as if they were more suited to Narcissa than Vincent, she thought with a wry smile. She reached hesitantly for a manuscript and flipped through the first few pages. Although the handwriting was clear, she couldn’t grasp the meaning of the words. Her sight blurred and she put the book back on the shelf, absentmindedly rubbing the bridge of her nose. Turning around, she scanned the room again. What was this place? Still slightly dizzy, she settled herself in a large armchair and closed her eyes. The moment her head made contact with the backrest of the chair, her eyes flew open again. Her hair felt strangely stiff and as she reached up to touch it, she realized that it must be mud-caked.

Vincent’s voice startled her from her thoughts and she jerked around. “I’ve heated some water for you,” he said, indicating a bucket and a basin on a crate which apparently served as a makeshift washstand. “I thought you might like to clean yourself,” he added, pouring some water from the bucket into the basin.

Tired beyond words, Catherine just nodded her head. She rose from the chair and unthinkingly started unbuttoning her jacket and blouse. When she looked for Vincent to make sure he wouldn’t be embarrassed if she undressed before him, he was already gone.

Vincent had also placed three threadbare towels on the crate. With a sigh, she spread one of them on the floor and finished undressing. Stepping onto the towel, she washed herself from head to toe as thoroughly as possible under the circumstances. At last she knelt down in front of the bucket to clean her hair with the remaining water. She dipped her head into the bucket and rubbed her hair vigorously, wishing she had at least a little shampoo. As she straightened and wound a towel around her soaking wet hair, she froze. The water in the bucket had turned a reddish brown reminiscent of...

Hastily Catherine removed the towel from her hair and examined it. Blood. This had to be blood. Oblivious to the fact that she was still naked, she felt at her head for any sign of injury, but she found nothing. Then it must be Vincent’s, she decided, although she couldn’t remember anything which might have indicated that he was hurt. Aside from the suppressed groan when he was climbing behind her, she mused.

Although the air in the chamber was pleasantly warm, a shiver ran across her wet skin and she looked around for her clothes. No matter how much she detested putting on her soiled things again, she had no choice.

By the time she was completely dressed, Catherine began to wonder where Vincent had gone. If he had just meant to give her privacy, surely he could sense that she was finished. She closed her eyes and listened into the silence, but there was no sound which might have betrayed his whereabouts. Only then did it occur to her to concentrate on the bond like she had done before, but this time that didn’t help, either.

Tears formed in her eyes as she thought of how distant Vincent had appeared since he had found her just before the cave-in. She remembered how strangely he had behaved and how reluctant he had been to touch her, talk to her, or answer her questions. Suddenly a chill crept down her spine as an image of the bluish light in his hands came back to her. Pushing herself from the chair, she began pacing the room. What if it was all a trick? What if he wasn’t even Vincent? What if... With a shudder she remembered Paracelsus’ uncanny ability to assume the shapes and voices of other people. What if it was Paracelsus she was actually dealing with? But if so, what had he done to Vincent? Without thinking twice, Catherine grabbed a torch which was ensconced in the wall above her head, and left the chamber. She had to find him, whoever he was, in order to find Vincent, and if there was no bond to guide her, she would simply...

The sound of splashing water interrupted her thoughts and she froze. Lifting the torch a little higher, she surveyed the corridor before her. There was that soft, blue light again. This time it was slanting in from a side tunnel, and she extinguished the torch, leaving it behind as she walked on. As she rounded the corner, the corridor before her opened into a vast cavern which was partly flooded with water. The blue light drifted across the surface like mists above a lake. She raised her gaze and there he was. Vincent. The water lapped around his hips and his bare chest heaved as he met her stunned stare.

Catherine had never been more certain that it was really Vincent who stood before her. She couldn’t help but think how beautiful he was. His hands were braced on his hips as he inclined his head and met her eyes with a questioning look. For a moment she thought she saw a flicker of amusement cross his features, but a second later his expression was serious and closed.

“You found me,” he stated the obvious, and she relaxed with a smile.

“I guess I did,” she replied. “I’m sorry I interrupted your bath.”

“I’m finished,” he said simply, starting to wade toward her, and her heart skipped a beat as she wondered if he would actually leave the water like that. Just to busy her eyes, Catherine looked around the cavern.

“Where does this light come from?” she inquired.

“I…caused it,” Vincent answered from beside her. She trembled, unable to move. When she turned her head at last, he had grabbed a blanket and wound it around his hips. The sight of his strong, masculine body drove all thought from her mind and she forgot to question him any further.

***

Back in the chamber, Catherine watched as Vincent walked over to the table and pulled out a chair, indicating for her to take a seat. She complied, trying not to think of the image he had presented when she had surprised him during his bath. Slowly he settled himself in a chair opposite her and studied her thoughtfully.

“Please tell me about the light,” she demanded.

“I believe we have to talk,” he said quietly, his voice so low that she had to strain in order to hear it.

“This place,” she began. “It’s so...strange.”

“And yet it is a part of who I am,” he replied. “I created this place to be able to separate myself from the community whenever I feel the need to...pursue my studies.”

“Your studies?”

He sighed and she scanned his face for any clue as to why this might be so difficult for him.

“I’m afraid this is going to be a very long talk,” he said at last. “Wouldn’t you like to rest first?” She just shook her head, and he smiled. “But at least you should eat something.”

She agreed to that and he set about preparing some tea. She watched him go through the routine of heating water and preparing teapot and mugs. All the while her mind worked frantically, trying to figure out exactly what it was about him that seemed so strange. Finally he set a tray on the table and offered her dried fruit and crispbread.

“It’s not very much, but it’s nourishing,” he apologized. “I don’t require much when I’m down here.”

Until now, Catherine had paid no attention to the demands of her body, but the moment she took the first sip of her tea, she felt ravenous.

“Please chew slowly and carefully,” Vincent advised her. “Otherwise your stomach might reject it.”

For many long moments they ate together in companionable silence, but finally Catherine could contain her curiosity no longer.

“Your studies,” she began between bites, “what kind of studies are they?”

Vincent took a deep breath. “Actually, I’m not sure where to start.”

“How about the blood in my hair even though there’s no wound on my head?” she suggested. “Or that odd blue light which seems to come out of nowhere?”

He nodded resignedly. “It’s what some would call magic, Catherine.”

All she could do was stare at him in bewilderment as he put down the slice of bread he had been eating and leaned back in his chair.

His face was strangely devoid of expression as he began to speak. “It started when Devin left and I realized that I could never be part of his dream; that I could never be part of anybody’s dream. One day, I happened upon a book on Magic and Alchemy which captured me completely. After I had read it twice, I thought that nothing, nothing was impossible at all, that I just needed to find the proper rites and charms in order to turn myself into a normal-looking human being.”

Catherine felt her heart turn over in her chest. “Oh, no!”

“Over the years, my view of things gradually changed, but not my desire to become a…normal man. There were times when I hardly thought of it, but then there were times when I was obsessed with the idea. When you came into my life, Catherine, my need to be transformed became so overwhelming that I even turned to Paracelsus’ scriptures which I had discarded the moment I realized that they dealt with black magic. That was a long time ago. But then there came a time when I was desperate enough to try anything.”

She looked at him questioningly.

“It was when you met Elliot Burch and I thought I would lose you. I thought if...”

“Oh Vincent,” she gasped and quickly rose from her chair, putting her arms around as much of him as she could grasp. “I know I was blind back then, not only where Elliot was concerned, but mainly because I didn’t realize sooner how much I was hurting you.”

She felt him stiffen under her touch and released him.

“It wasn’t your fault, Catherine,” he murmured. “How should you have known that I...that someone like me would dare...”

His voice broke off, and she raised her hand to stroke his hair. “To fall in love with me?” she asked quietly.

He hung his head. “Yes.”

“You’re right,” she confessed. “I didn’t realize that from the start. At least not clearly enough. And although I know now that I loved you from the first time I heard your voice, it took me a while to become aware of the true depth and nature of my feelings for you.”

Slowly his head came up and he cast her a tentative glance. “I was never able to understand fully how such a thing was possible; how a beautiful woman could feel anything other than gratitude, or at most friendship, for someone such as me.”

Gently cupping her fingers around his chin, she held his gaze with hers. “But I did, Vincent. I fell in love with you even though I wasn’t aware of it right from the start. It was a lot of little things which made me realize what I really felt for you. There was that sense of well-being whenever you were close. The anticipation when I knew you would come. The joy I felt when you gazed into my eyes without looking away. The thrill when you took my hand or held me against you. Oh, Vincent, I began wanting you so much that I had a hard time keeping it from you.”

His fingers closed around her wrist and he dislodged her hand from his chin, pulling it against his heart. She half-expected him to say something, but when he didn’t, she continued, “And then there were those dreams, Vincent.”

“I know,” he rasped and looked away. 

“You do?” she exclaimed, feeling a blush spread over her face. “Oh my.”

An unexpected smile flickered across his face, but all too quickly he grew serious again. “Those dreams tortured me, yes, but at the same time they were the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me. Those dreams made me want even more to have a normal body.”

Slowly withdrawing her hand from his chest, she knelt down before him. “Normal by what standards?” she asked. “You do have a normal body, Vincent. It’s completely normal for you, and...” She paused, momentarily unsure if she wasn’t taking this too far. “You are beautiful,” she said at last.

“Beautiful!” he tossed out between gritted teeth, and the bitterness in his voice tore at her heart.

“To me you are beautiful,” she insisted, placing her palms on his wrists. He tensed and she took her hands away, giving him space to stand up and start pacing. She watched him spin around again and again and couldn’t help thinking how much she would have loved to hold him now, to caress all the tension away from him and show him exactly how beautiful she found him.

He froze and lifted his hands before his eyes. “To have…these…touch you would be unthinkable. I want hands that can hold you, caress you…hands to love you with. But these...?” His fists fell to his sides and he dropped his head in a gesture of resignation.

Swallowing hard, Catherine gained her feet and took a few steps toward him. He didn’t move and she stopped, suddenly too shy to go to him and touch him. She had always thought she knew the man before her quite well, but now she found that she hadn’t even scratched the surface yet.

“As I understand it,” she said quietly, “magic always has a price. What would have been yours to pay, assuming your transformation had worked?”

Slowly turning around to face her, Vincent shrugged. “What makes the path of sorcery so dangerous is that it is the opposite of every life situation you may think of. Most people settle down in the realm of the functional. They have left the realm of the unknown and the mysterious behind and have turned their backs to the world of the foreboding and the exulting.

“To be given a chance to enter the world of mystery and magic is sometimes too much to bear. The danger of being waylaid by the high adventure of the unknown is a grave one. You may forget the initial quest if you sink into the unknown and begin to love it for its own sake. The price may be your health, your sanity, even your heart and soul.

“It may sound strange but I found some measure of protection in the fact that I had only one single goal. Keeping my undivided attention focused on it, obviously prevented me from getting lost in otherwise very common temptations.”

“And that one goal was to alter your appearance?” Catherine asked when his voice fell away.

He nodded shyly. “That was what I wanted more than anything else in this life.”

“But what about your ability to heal and to create light?”

“You could say those were by-products which I found along the way. That’s not unusual. Even people who only mean to study the realm of the spirit without magical goals acquire simple powers like that.”

“How do you come to know all that?” she asked. “Did you meet others who…studied magic like you?”

He shook his head in negation. “My second protection against black magic was that I was studying so many different books on the same subject. That way I developed a sense for discriminating black magic from white magic. And after trying the shape-shifting rite once...”

“You did?” she exclaimed breathlessly. “What happened?”

“I became very ill,” he replied. “I almost died.”

“And yet you wanted to try the same sorcery again?” she whispered hoarsely, unable to stay away from him any longer. She stepped up to him and took his hand in hers.

He released a heart-wrenching sigh. “After what happened with the outsiders, I thought there was no way I could live with what I was...what I am...any longer.”

Leaning her head against his arm, she asked, “You mentioned that you had to make a conscious decision to kill the way you did.” Instantly she felt his muscles tense beneath her cheek.

“That is one thing I learned along the way, one of the prices I had to pay. Whenever I call upon that source of superhuman strength within me, I have to give up humanity. In most cases that decision is taken out of my hands. The moment rage sets in, the strength is there and all rationality is gone. But this time it was different. For days I’d been able to sense the…beast below the surface as it was trying to break through. To my own amazement, I was able to hold it at bay quite well, although my instincts told me to fight, to eliminate the danger once and for all even when you were in danger, Catherine, even then my mind prevailed and urged me to find a solution other than the obvious one. But I clamped down on it. I wanted you safe again...right away. And so I released...the beast.”

She thought about it for a while. “Was that the reason why you told me not to come below?” she finally asked. “So that I wouldn’t interfere with your newfound control over your instincts?”

“That’s part of the reason, yes.”

“And the other part?”

He gave a helpless shrug. “The thought that you should see me if I…if I lost my humanity yet again...”

She encircled his waist with her arms, grateful when she felt him return the gesture, and they clung to each other in silent desperation. Suddenly she felt his muscles ripple beneath her touch and he tensed within her embrace. A low growl rumbled through his chest and he wrenched away from her.

“Vincent,” she called out. “What is it?”

He sucked in a few quick gasps, obviously struggling to regain control over his breathing. “It’s nothing,” he rasped. “Fm just a little queasy.”

“Are you sure?” She went to him, intending to feel the skin of his neck for any sign of fever. With a swift reflex, he caught her hand and held it away from him.

“Tell me more about magic,” she demanded at last, hoping that talking would steady him. “Obviously you learned to master quite a few things, like the light for example. And from the blood in my hair I gather that you can heal, too.”

“Most things only work down here,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t know why. I’ve tried to accomplish the same things in my chamber at home, but there was nothing.”

She looked up at him curiously. “But some things do work at other places as well?”

He nodded against her head. “Healing, for example, but I kept that from the others, because most of them are wary of me already.”

“Why do you think some things work and others don’t?” she pursued the topic.

“Healing isn’t sorcery,” he explained. “It’s just an extended use of the laws of nature. Things like that have been known within all cultures around the world.”

“And the blue light?” she asked.

“That is sorcery,” he admitted with a smile. “Of the most harmless kind, as is the constant temperature in this chamber.”

Relieved that he appeared to be his old self again, she smiled back at him. “I can imagine that comes in handy in a world like yours.” Growing serious again, she asked, “Where did you find those manuscripts and who wrote them?”

The tension was back in his posture and Catherine regretted instantly that she had asked.

“Paracelsus wrote them,” he replied reluctantly. “When he was exiled, he left them in Father’s study, together with some of the other volumes on Alchemy you can see on those shelves. At first I tried to read them secretly in my chamber, but their teachings eluded me. Only when I brought them down here, away from the hub of our community, did they begin to make sense. Gradually I realized that Paracelsus had left them behind deliberately, so that they would be found and studied by someone who might become his apprentice.”

“And that someone was you,” she whispered, suddenly more afraid for him than she could say.

“Yes,” he replied quietly. “The more I studied, the more I realized that there must have been a time when Paracelsus did exactly what I’ve been doing down here. He studied everything he could get and then drew his own warped conclusions.”

“Which he wrote down in those scriptures,” she deducted.

“Yes, but at one point he chose the wrong direction. He turned away from the light and chose a path of darkness and selfish goals. He is a very powerful sorcerer, Catherine, and he has developed the art of shape-shifting to perfection.”

“Of course,” she said with dawning comprehension. “The way he assumes other people’s appearances is truly uncanny. Can you do that, too, Vincent?”

“I believe I could,” he replied, “but it’s not what I want. Not by far. I don’t want to have someone else’s body in order to deceive others. I need to discover who I am...beneath...” He indicated his own body. “Beneath all this.”

“All this,” she said, grabbing his sweater and giving a soft tug, “belongs to the man I love, and I honestly wouldn’t want you to change even the tiniest bit.”

Suddenly he gripped her upper arms and held her away from him. “Those are just words, Catherine. You don’t really know what you’re talking about. For me, this body means that I can’t give you even the smallest things like a simple walk in the sunshine. And with hands like these I could never touch you like…like a lover. You may believe otherwise, but that’s the truth, and nothing can change that truth.”

His outburst had caught her completely off-guard and she was at a loss as to how to respond. When he released her at last, she staggered and groped for the backrest of a chair to steady herself. Vincent seemed strangely oblivious to her plight. He just stood with his back to her, staring at the wall.

Gathering her thoughts, Catherine responded in a low, even voice, “Vincent, don’t you see? We are lovers already, and whether or not you touch me with your hands doesn’t change too much about that truth. And as for walking together in the sunlight...”

“You dreamed of that,” he interjected without looking at her.

“And of your buying me ice cream?” she asked softly. “But, Vincent, in that dream the world outside was changed, not you.”

She was answered with silence. Finally he sighed and turned around to face her. “The odd thing is that we could do that any time.”

“What?”

“Take a walk in the sunshine together.”

“But how?”

“It only requires a spell of the simplest kind to make people see things differently from what they really are.”

“Sometimes I think that requires no spell at all,” she replied drily, and very much to her relief he smiled.

“I meant that I can make them see what I want them to see,” he amended, “and conceal from them what they must not see without really changing anything else. It’s more like hypnosis than sorcery, I think.”

“Did you ever try that?” she wanted to know.

“When I was younger, yes, but it was a very unsatisfactory experience, and it never lasted long, because back then I lacked the strength to maintain the spell for longer periods of time.”

She shook her head incredulously. “I can hardly believe we’re having this conversation.”

He smiled. “You’re holding up very well, considering...”

“Considering that I’m talking to a sorcerer?”

Shaking his head, he replied, “The strange thing is that I found most of the things which others consider sorcery, to be natural and inherent in anybody. It’s just that those abilities remain dormant if they aren’t trained.”

“You mean I could learn it, too?”

Smiling again, he cast her a meaningful look. “I think you have already learned a lot…well, to some degree.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“For example, I produced a spell so that no one would discover me down here, but it didn’t work with you. Also, I tried to protect myself through a charm when I was bathing, yet you found me there as well.”

Hoping he hadn’t noticed her blush, she remarked, “I seem to have the right antidote for your attempts to keep me away.”

Slowly he walked toward her and enfolded her in his arms. “I’m glad you do,” he whispered hoarsely.

“So am I,” she replied, and with a mischievous smile he couldn’t see, she added, “I wouldn’t want to have missed the sight of you in there for anything in the world.” She felt him tense briefly and relax again. “What are you thinking?” she inquired carefully.

“That you should rest now,” he said, very much to her disappointment. But he was right, she was tired. Her eyelids were drooping already and her vision was slightly blurred. She was reminded of the handwriting she had tried to decipher earlier.

“I couldn’t read even one single word of those manuscripts,” she said, noting that her speech was oddly slurred.

“Paracelsus did that to prevent anyone else but me from reading them,” came Vincent’s reply as she found herself being led to a cot at the far end of the chamber. She couldn’t remember lying down; all she knew was that sleep felt incredibly sweet when it claimed her at last.

***

Clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides, Vincent stared down at Catherine’s peaceful face. She was soundly asleep at last, and he clamped down on a feeling of guilt because he had helped matters along with a little charm to ensure a certain depth to her sleep. The next wave of transformative energy wasn’t far away and he had to do find a way to stabilize himself before he could take her back home. Something was profoundly wrong, which was no wonder considering that the magic he had tried to work had been interrupted. Now he hung suspended between two phases of appearance and was in constant danger of slipping from one into the other. He couldn’t return to the home chambers like this. It had been difficult enough to keep his seizures of changing hidden from Catherine. It would be completely impossible to conceal them with even more people around. He rubbed his temples wearily. He had to act, and quickly.

Slowly he made his way down to the bathing cavern and discarded his clothes. He waded into the icy cold water and immersed himself up to his chin. This way he had once managed to regain control over the shifting, just before Catherine had detected him in here. He’d been lucky that she hadn’t come upon him sooner or she might have been very confused about what she would have encountered. When he had felt the change come over him, the surface of the water had shown him some incomplete, distorted image of his transformed face. His hair had been just as long but darker, and with the muzzle and cleft upper lip gone, there was no way to tell if he had looked anything like himself. He just wished he could have seen his eyes.

But the chill of the water had quickly pulled him back from the change and anchored him in his true self. With astonishment he realized that it had taken the unsettling side-effects of this particular magic to make him appreciate how right it felt to be what he was. Catherine had been trying to tell him that all along, yet he hadn’t understood. He simply hadn’t listened.

His thoughts shifted and he wondered what Catherine might have thought when she had seen his naked body earlier. He knew that his build wasn’t too different from that of other men, except maybe that his musculature was more exaggerated and his body hair denser. She hadn’t appeared repulsed, and he mused that she probably hadn’t noticed those differences too clearly in the dim blue light.

He remained in the water until he was feeling so chilled that he could hardly move. Only then did he drag himself to the rocky bank. Reaching for his cloak, he struggled to fight off the bone-deep weariness which suddenly overcame him, but finally he was so tired that he hardly cared about yet another onset of transformation. He wrapped the cloak around him and just dropped to the stony floor, heedless of everything but a gentle hum through the bond, telling him that Catherine was safe and sleeping peacefully nearby.

***

A distant sound drew Catherine from her dream, a soft whistle like the song of a bird. She wanted to sit up, but suddenly there was a weight on her shoulders, pressing her back onto the pillow. The whistling tune became more insistent, and Catherine experienced a deep longing to follow the sound, to hug her arms around it and take it into herself. With a last, forceful struggle she shook off the weight and sat up.

The sudden silence stunned her in the heavy darkness. There was no light either. She felt her way clumsily through the dark room to the table where her searching hands finally encountered a box of matches. She lit a candle and scanned the chamber for any sign of Vincent. His cloak was nowhere in sight, so she surmised that he wouldn’t be back for a while. The memory of the faint tune in her dream came back to her and she felt a wistful longing to go back to sleep and hear it again.

Suddenly a wave of anguish swept through her and she seized the edges of the table to steady herself. Vincent. It had to be him. If that was what he was feeling, she knew she had to find him quickly.

Once outside the chamber, there were only two ways to go. One passage lay in total darkness while the other, which led to the water cavern, was drenched in the soft blue shine she had come to know as magical light. Without further hesitation, Catherine followed that path down to the water. On entering the cavern, she immediately caught sight of the dark figure sprawled on the stony floor on the opposite bank.

“Vincent?” She waded through the shallow water and knelt down beside him. He lay very still and his face was gaunt and pale. Dark circles surrounded his deep-set eyes which were closed as if in sleep. Cautiously Catherine slipped her hand under the collar of his cloak to feel for the pulse at his throat. She wasn’t surprised to encounter nothing but bare skin, but it worried her deeply that it felt so cold to her touch. His pulse was strong and regular though, and she relaxed a little.

“Vincent!” she repeated, shaking him gently, but there was no response. She had to get him out of there. He needed to be more comfortable and warm. Surveying his tall, heavy frame, she discarded any hope of moving him without his cooperation, but she knew she had to get him conscious as quickly as possible. His eyes moved restlessly behind closed lids, and she feathered a caress on his cheek to coax his awareness to the surface. Suddenly his lips parted and he started a restless panting which left her helpless and confused as to what to do. Finally she shifted her weight and sat down beside him. Gently massaging his scalp, she whispered words of endearment to him, and he gradually calmed under her caresses.

She called his name over and over again, hoping he would awaken, but he didn’t. At last she bent forward and pressed a kiss on his forehead. She trailed her lips down along the bridge of his furry nose and tenderly nibbled its tip. Too shy to actually kiss his lips, she contented herself with stroking them lightly with the tips of her fingers. Her eyes traveled down his neck and then further still. The edges of the cloak had come apart and revealed a large part of his hirsute chest. Working up her courage, she reached out to tease one nipple which was almost completely hidden under a profusion of fur-like, tawny chest hair. She thought that if anything could get him to awaken, this was likely to do the trick.

Her heart constricted in her chest as she heard him moan softly at her intimate touch, and she felt guilty for doing this to him just to coax him awake. A caress like that ought to be bestowed with love and mutual tenderness, and her heart ached longingly at the thought. He moaned again, and she withdrew her hand just in time to prevent him from catching her in the act. His eyes opened slowly, almost languidly, and she could see his struggle to focus on her face. To her delight his first reaction as he caught sight of her was a tentative smile, but then he jerked up his head and brought his hands before his face to study them intently. Obviously reassured by what he saw, he relaxed and lay back again, releasing a small sigh.

Catherine found the throbbing of the pulse in his neck oddly hypnotic. She extended her hand to touch him there as she had after he’d been shot by the savage child.

“There is no scar,” she observed with astonishment.

Slowly Vincent levered himself into a sitting position. “I can heal myself, too,” he explained quietly, pulling the cloak shut over his chest. Catherine wondered fleetingly why he should feel self- conscious with her now when he had strode toward her in all his nakedness without shame only a few hours ago.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Better,” he replied, casting her an uncertain glance. “When you found me. ..was I...?”

“I found you lying unconscious on the floor,” she replied, watching him scramble to his feet. He swayed and she hurried to support him. “Vincent,” she said entreatingly. “What’s wrong with you?” He didn’t reply right away, but stepped into the water, wading toward the exit of the cavern and not caring that the hem of his cloak got soaked as it trailed after him. She followed behind, watching over him as best she could. Suddenly a suspicion formed in her mind. “Does that mean something has gone wrong with the magic?” she asked. He froze and squared his shoulders, and she waited breathlessly for his reply.

“We’ll talk about it later,” he suggested wearily before he walked on.

Back in the chamber, Catherine reached up to help him out of the wet garment. She was surprised to meet no resistance at all. He just bent to retrieve a blanket from the cot and wound it around his hips. Then he straightened to get another blanket which lay folded on the top shelf, and Catherine couldn’t help but admire the play of his muscles as he moved about the chamber. His eyes were strangely opaque when he held out the blanket out to her.

“You should get out of your wet jeans,” he advised her.

She nodded her agreement and took the blanket from him. She changed quickly, grateful for the warmth the blanket provided when she wound it around her body.

She turned around and found Vincent lying on the cot, covering his face with one forearm. A patched comforter lay folded at the foot of the bed and she reached for it to cover him. He didn’t move, and she wished she were able to see his face. After watching him breathe evenly for a while, she tore her gaze away from his massive chest and shoulders and settled herself in his chair. Her eyes strayed along the bookshelves and came to rest on a black goblet with an elegant stem. She rose to investigate her find and took it in both hands to check its contents. It was empty, but there was a sharp scent clinging to it that captured her attention immediately. There were other strange scents in this room, but her senses had grown accustomed to them over the hours. This one, though, was really…bad. It made the hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end. Could it be that Vincent...?

She didn’t proceed further with her thoughts for Vincent stirred on the cot. He started to writhe and thrash about, tossing the comforter to the floor. Quickly she put the goblet back on the shelf and turned toward him just in time to notice a reddish glow emanating from his skin but only for a second, and then it was gone again. Concerned, she hurried to his side, evading his flailing arms as best she could. He seemed to be battling some invisible enemy, and the growls and snarls he produced sent a chill down her spine.

Suddenly he levered himself up off the bed, and she saw him change as if in a horror movie she had seen in her youth. The fur on the backs of his hands receded and the long nails shrunk while the knuckles stood out whitely under the taut, pale skin. Terrified beyond reason, she stared at his face which she feared was about to undergo a similar transformation. Instantly he jerked up his hands to hide his changing features from her; then suddenly all energy seemed spent and he slumped down on the bed, burying his face in the pillow. His shoulders shook with exhaustion, and she sat down beside him, putting her arms around his body. She noted fleetingly that his back was still covered with dense, sleek hair, and when she brushed back a few strands of hair from his face, she could see that his familiar features had returned. She reached out to seize one of his hands which was furred and clawed just as it should be.

“I…need to get back into the water,” he rasped, keeping his face averted.

“No,” she contradicted. “Your body is already too chilled for your own good.”

“But the coldness will keep the transformation away,” he protested weakly.

“It doesn’t seem so,” she replied, rubbing his shoulders soothingly. He didn’t answer that, and she wondered what he might be thinking. “What did you do?” she inquired carefully. “What kind of magic did you use?”

He didn’t speak; he just turned around and placed his arms around her neck, leaning his head against her shoulder like a child seeking comfort.

Holding him tight, she noted that his skin was warm again, even hot, and she tilted her head to press a tender kiss on his bristled cheek. He released a shuddering breath and pulled slightly away from her, averting his face.

“I was going through the procedure of a special magic of transformation when I felt your presence below,” he said quietly.

“Oh, Vincent,” she gasped. “I interrupted you.”

He nodded his head slowly in affirmation. “Now I’m caught between two phases, and I’ll have to find a way to go through with the spell or take it back.”

“Take it back,” she whispered imploringly and his gaze snapped up to meet hers with aching intensity.

“I’m not certain that’s possible,” he finally confessed in a hushed voice.

She brought up one hand and ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his face. The tenderness and love she was feeling for him, brought tears to her eyes. If only he would accept that love. If only...

His movement interrupted her thought. He broke the contact of their eyes and gently disengaged himself from her embrace. “I can’t fall asleep,” he said, rising to his feet, “or I’ll be helpless when it starts again.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, looking up at him. “Do you think you can influence it in any way while you’re alert?”

He threw up his hands in a gesture of helplessness and dropped them again. “I think I can…resist it, fight it back.”

“Or carry it through?” she asked apprehensively.

“I don’t think so. The magical formula hadn’t been finished yet, that’s why the transformation remains incomplete. All I can do is repeat the procedure and finish it, but I can’t be sure what kind of effect the double dose of the potion might have in the end.”

She pondered his words carefully. “Maybe Narcissa could help,” she suggested at last.

He shook his head in negation. “I’ve thought about that myself, but one must never mix different kinds of magic,” he said. “The outcome would be entirely unpredictable.”

“So, what are we going to do?” she asked.

He expelled his breath forcefully. I have to find a way to regain my strength,” he said. “Only then can I hope to undo the effects of the magic I’ve partially worked.”

“Then you’ll need to sleep,” she offered.

“The problem is that I must remain alert,” he replied.

He looked so defeated standing there, head and shoulders bowed under the weight of his plight. She got to her feet and went to him, taking his hand. “I will watch over you,” she said firmly. “I’ll remain on guard and wake you when I feel it coming.”

“You won’t notice in time,” he reminded her.

“I will if I’m close enough,” she insisted, meeting the confused glance he shot her. “Lay down,” she ordered, nudging him toward the cot. He complied hesitantly, and she watched his eyes go wide as she took off her sweater and removed the blanket from her hips. “Is it night or day uptop?” she asked, trying to sound casual as she slipped under the covers beside him.

“Night,” he replied, edging away from her as far as the relatively narrow cot would allow.

“How can you tell?” she inquired, pulling the covers more tightly around them both.

She heard him swallow. “It’s a matter of practice,” he said.

“No sorcery?” she teased, and he chuckled softly.

“No sorcery, I promise.”

Turning on her side, she placed one arm across his chest and rested her hand just above his heart.
“This way I will feel it when you get restless,” she explained and felt the movement of his head as he nodded his understanding. “Sleep now,” she crooned, knowing how tired he must be after all he’d been through. It didn’t take long until he grew utterly still and his breathing deepened. Catherine savored his warmth and nearness more than she could say. Cautiously she snuggled closer, concentrating on the rhythm of his heart as it pounded steadily beneath her palm. She even placed one leg across his thighs, careful to avoid brushing against his sex, knowing that she mustn’t risk waking him until he’d had the rest he needed.

At one time during the night, Catherine started awake when Vincent rolled away from her in his sleep. He ended up lying with his back to her, and so she simply spooned herself around him before she drifted off again.

The next time she woke, he lay facing her, and she was grateful for the soft shine of magical light which seemed to come out of nowhere but illuminated the room enough for her to take in every detail of his face. Studying his relaxed features, she imagined how it might be to be kissed by him.. .deeply, passionately. With a drowsy sigh she closed her eyes. I mustn‘t fall asleep, she admonished herself, hoping she would sense any change in Vincent’s sleeping pattern anyway. I didn‘t feel it when he turned toward me, she reminded herself worriedly. With a tingle of excitement she was helpless to resist, she became acutely aware of the weight of Vincent’s thigh across her hip. Carefully she reached down and touched his knee where it rested heavily at her waist. The blanket he had worn around his hips had come apart and fallen away long ago, and she tried not to think too much of the fact that he was completely naked. Pictures of him as he had stood in the water drifted by her inner eye, and she saw herself wading toward him, placing her palms on his chest to feel the reassuring beat of his heart.

***

The unfamiliar sensation of someone breathing close to his face pulled Vincent from his sleep. He lifted his head from the pillow and looked down at Catherine in momentary confusion. When the reason for her being in his bed came back to him, he closed his eyes and inwardly scanned his body for any signs of impending change, but everything within him felt normal and calm. Careful not to make any sound, he lay down again and watched Catherine’s face as she slept peacefully beside him. His body stirred as he became more and more aware of her, but he ignored it, concentrating on the ebb and flow of her even breathing. How beautiful she was and how brave. He marveled at her determination to stand by him in all this without faltering, no matter how unsettling his revelations had been. He let his eyes follow the gentle curve of her neck and stopped at the swell of one barely concealed breast. Oh, to be free to touch such beauty, to make it his, if only for a moment. Tears blurred his vision and he closed his eyes, helpless to resist the fathomless yearning to be human, totally, unquestionably human.

Instantly his muscles tensed and, rolling on his back, he massaged his aching wrists. “No!” he gasped helplessly. “Not again!”

He heard Catherine call his name close to his ear, but he was unable to respond. A wave of pain and nausea shook him and left him spent in its wake. “My hands,” he managed weakly. “Look at my hands.”

He didn’t hear her reply for his ears were ringing with an eerie, high-pitched hum, but he felt her touch as she seized his hands and rubbed their backs with her thumbs. It was as if every single one of his nerve-endings came alive under her touch, and he was grateful that she was there to anchor him when the world suddenly spun out of place.

Something like a bolt of electricity raced through him and he arched his back reflexively, unable to control the shivers that shook him. There was a weight pressing him down onto the mattress, and when he reached up to push it away, he found it to be Catherine who lay atop him, struggling to calm him as he fought against the currents of magical energy coursing through his blood.

His own voice sounded bodiless and strange to him as he called out her name at last. Over and over he repeated it as if it were a mantra with the power to finally free him of the seizures of transformation.

Her hands seemed to be everywhere. One instant they were framing his face, the next he felt her rubbing his shoulders and neck. Her fingers trailed down across his chest, and a moment later he winced when her nails dug into his back as she clung to him with desperation.

Struggling for breath, he arched his back again and turned her upside down, pinning her to the mattress with his weight. She went utterly still beneath him, and he felt his muscles relax as the pain subsided. Slowly he lowered his head to her shoulder and buried his face in the curve of her neck. Her skin smelled of grass and leaves, and he inhaled deeply, releasing his breath on a sigh of momentary contentment. Gradually his body began to feel normal again, and he couldn’t help but notice how good she felt against him. Her soft curves met the hard planes of his body as if they had been designed for one another. Quickly he shook off the thought and rolled away from her so that she wouldn’t notice his hardening flesh.

He sat up, burying his face in his hands, but she was instantly at his side, putting a comforting arm around his shoulders.

“Is it gone?” she asked huskily.

“For now,” he heard his own hoarse reply.

She tugged at his arm and coaxed him to lie down again. He hesitated but then complied without resistance while his mind reeled with conflicting thoughts and emotions. He mustn’t want it. His wish to be something other than what he was, had brought about this most recent seizure. He was certain of that. But how could he not wish to be…normal…for her? Even now as he lay beside her, exhausted and spent, his desire for her was a palpable thing between them.

“I must find a way to carry it through,” he said, unaware that he’d spoken out loud.

Her face appeared above him as she leaned over him and looked down into his eyes. “No,” she said gently. “This will pass if you let it.”

He wondered fleetingly how she could possibly know, but the touch of her fingers as she traced his lips made it difficult for him to think.

“You told me that there were times when you were content with who you were,” she said, “and that you became obsessed with the idea of changing your appearance when I came into your life.”

“No, Catherine,” he interrupted her. “It’s not your fault.”

“That’s not what I was trying to say,” she continued. “I only meant to point out that there is no need at all for you to change because of me.”

He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain of longing that cut through his heart, and suddenly the incredible feel of her lips on his made him forget everything else as his universe narrowed down to that single sensation.

“I love you, Vincent,” she whispered against his ear, and her breath caressed his cheek like a morning breeze. “I would still love you if you had to go through with that change after all, but I wish you wouldn’t. You are you, and I believe that there is a reason why everyone is just the way they are. And you...” She seized his  left hand and brought it to her heart. “You belong to me, and no magic in the whole world can change that.”

Her lips touched his again, and he marveled at their softness as he surrendered himself to her kiss. His body stirred and a jolt of intense desire undermined his ability to think clearly. Catherine pressed into him with slow, intoxicating movements and the heat of her body all but seared his skin. He became aware of the awkward position of his hands as he held them slightly away from her body, afraid to actually touch her now that his hunger for her had grown so overwhelming.

“Don’t,” she said, and the husky tone of her voice made him shiver. “Fighting it will only make things worse. Welcome it. Acknowledge your desire, and don’t be afraid. I’m here and I want you every bit as much as you want me.”

Her words poured into his soul like a gentle rain, and he pulled her on top of his body, cradling her head against his chest. His heart raced as if it was going to burst, and suddenly her lips were there, kissing him, nibbling his skin persistently. Finally she found his nipple and gave it a playful tug with her teeth. He hadn’t known just how sensitive this part of his body was and he thought he would die from the sudden ache centering in his groin as his sex hardened and strained toward her. Just when he thought he couldn’t bear it any longer, her hand was there, encircling him tenderly. To be touched like that was more than his mind could take, and he couldn’t prevent a low growl from rumbling through his chest. It shamed him and he suppressed it as best he could.

She shifted her weight, and when he opened his eyes she was straddling his hips, guiding his painfully engorged penis toward the heat of her body.

He heard himself rasping her name, meaning to caution her, needing her to be sure that this was what she wanted, but it was too late to be sensible. She lowered herself to receive him and her inner muscles tightened around his sensitive flesh. Groaning, he arched his back to meet her downward movement with a desperate thrust. She threw back her head with abandon, and in the bluish light of the room he saw her body before him in all its beauty for the first time. For the flash of a moment her nakedness confused him. He’d been unaware of her undressing, but he quickly forgot to wonder about it, for she began to move above him, and he lost himself in a wave of passion so intense that it took his breath away. She leaned toward him to kiss him and, still anchored firmly inside her, he turned her onto her back, hungrily sucking her lips as he buried himself more deeply within her. The touch of her tongue against his took away the last shred of his control, and he thrust down forcefully one last time, shuddering against her as he released his seed into her body.

Her love wove around him like a cocoon, soft as moonlight on the water, and he reveled in her tenderness as she held him to her, rocking him gently. There was a warm glow of completeness around his heart and he wanted so badly to saturate her with it, to make her feel every bit as loved and cherished as she was making him.

“It’s all right,” she whispered. “I can feel it, too.” With effort he lifted his head from her breasts to look into her face. She smiled, and he bent down to kiss away the tears that glittered in the corners of her eyes. She tasted of heaven and he was helpless to resist her beckoning lips. So soft, he thought yet again. So incredibly tender.

“You’ve cast a spell over me, Catherine,” he confessed huskily between sensuous nibbles and kisses.

“That’s what I was hoping,” she mumbled against his mouth, and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes sent his heart racing. He rolled himself on his back, looking up into her face which had become serious again. Her palms felt warm against his skin as she stroked his face and hair. “A spell to protect you,” she said, “to guard you against the darkness and guide you toward love.”

“Your love,” he murmured, deeply moved by her words.

“Our love,” she replied. “We don’t need any other magic.”

That made him smile, and he reached up to weave his fingers through her hair. “Are you sure? There may still be a way for me to change, to become completely human.”

She shook her head resolutely. “I don’t think you will change as long as I’m close by. You said it yourself, I do hold some power over your sorcery.”

He couldn’t keep from smiling. She was so precious. “You certainly have power over me,” he said, pointedly arching one brow.

Her eyes softened and she pressed a lingering kiss on his forehead. He cupped his large, furred hand around her pale, smooth cheek, sobering instantly as he became aware of the contrast yet again. Releasing her, he brought up his fists before her face. “I’ve worked so hard to get rid…of these,” he said through clenched teeth.

Catherine leaned forward and kissed first one hand, then the other. “Vincent, you found incredible gifts along the way. It’s those gifts you needed to find, not any kind of outward transformation.”

He pondered her words carefully. “Maybe,” he finally conceded. “And yet...”

She muffled his words by covering his mouth with hers, and as he lost himself in her kiss, he mused that no magic lied ever been as convincing as hers. Gently he rolled her on her back and when she opened up to him and took him into herself, he knew that at last his transformation was complete.