SECRETS

The heady smell of damp earth and fresh grass wafted in from the park and Vincent tried to ignore the tug of spring at his senses. The grate that protected the secret door to the underground world stood ajar as he paced the small space in front of it. The children should be home by now and a cold dread held his heart in its grip as he worried about their safety. Kipper and Samantha had gone Above on an errand assigned to them by Father. What could have possibly kept them so long? Although Vincent felt very protective about all members of the community he lived with, he wasn't usually this nervous. It was just that only recently there had been an incident that had shaken his already tenuous peace of mind. One of the young women living Below had been attacked on her way back home through the park. Vincent still shuddered at the thought of what could have happened to her if he hadn't been there at the entrance, impatiently waiting for the evening to fall. He had seen a man step out of the bushes and reach for Sarah, even before he had heard her muffled scream.

Vincent had long since resigned himself to the fact that killing was part of who he was. Protecting the only world he could live in was what he did. But over the years he had learned not to give in to the maddening frenzy of ripping and tearing attackers apart. He now killed in a more controlled way by simply applying his superior strength without using his sharp, claw-like nails or prolonged canine teeth. Killing 'cleanly' made the aftermath of it a little more bearable.

Vincent tore himself away from those dismal reflections. It was no good pondering so dark and terrible a thing when he should simply care about the children's welfare. It was not yet dark enough for him to leave the tunnel safely, but he had to do something. The sun had just set behind the trees of the park, and the beginning dusk would offer sufficient shelter for him to venture outside, or so he thought. There was a woman over there, obviously looking for something, but her attention seemed occupied enough for him to get by her without being noticed. Moving like a shadow among shadows, Vincent set off in the direction the children had taken when they'd left the Tunnels in the afternoon.

*

A crime had happened in the park, quite close to the place where Catherine liked to come when she needed to center herself and regain inner peace. The very thought that her sanctuary had been violated sent a cold shiver down her spine. Ever since the morning after her quarrel with Tom, when she had climbed the old plane tree for the first time, this place had become special to her. She couldn't explain why, but it seemed to her that it held some mysterious power to bring about changes. Her life had begun to change that night. Here she had found the strength to free herself from Tom Gunther and to start a new life. She had joined the district attorney's office, but that had been only a few months ago, and she was rather new to it all. Yet she could already feel how much her life had improved, simply through the fact that she was feeling passionate about her new job, hard and draining though it might be.

The young man whose body had turned up here, about thirty feet away from the tree Catherine liked to think of as her tree, had been identified shortly after he'd been found and reported to the police. He was in the files of the police department because he'd attacked people in the park several times before. But this time there was no one who had placed a charge against him. This time he had met his own death. Catherine had seen the photos. His neck had been broken as someone had thrown him forcefully against the trunk of a tree. Very forcefully, the coroner had said.

Catherine scanned the area and her eyes strayed once more to the tree and the drainage tunnel beyond. She had never forgotten the stranger she'd watched there, and her imagination had spun all kinds of mysteries around him. But, she had to admit to herself, she wasn't sure anymore that she'd actually seen someone that morning. Maybe her own loneliness and longing had taken form in some way and had deluded her senses. And yet, even now, remembering him brought about a feeling of familiarity, and she savored the warmth that it evoked in the pit of her stomach.

Joe Maxwell, her new boss, had been right in trying to dissuade her from coming here. This was taking her nowhere. The forensics team had already gathered all the information available, and she could do nothing beyond that. In fact, Joe would be quite furious that she'd come to the park at such a relatively late hour. Although it had been a bright spring day, dusk was now settling fast, and Catherine was just thinking that she'd better leave for home when she noticed a movement in the bushes that framed the lawn beyond the path.

Run! her mind demanded, but her heart whispered, Maybe it's him. And so she melted out of sight by slowly circling the huge trunk of the tree she'd been leaning against. But when she peered at the bushes from behind the trunk, she could see nothing out of the ordinary. As she eyed the dark opening of the culvert at the far end of the lawn, she remembered the peace she had felt when she'd ventured in there last Christmas Eve.

Against her better judgment, which told her that she should long be on her way home, she directed her feet towards the entrance, inhaling deeply before she stepped into the tunnel. A rustling from outside made her stop, and she turned in time to see a large shadowy form ducking out of sight behind the shrubbery. As if in trance, Catherine withdrew her head, but not before she had seen another man run across the clearing where she had stood only minutes ago. When she looked again, he had disappeared, and so she moved further into the tunnel, deciding that it would be best to hide until both men were gone. At the junction of several tunnels she paused and leaned against the cold concrete wall, her tightly clenched fists shoved into the pockets of her coat.

Suddenly a soft, rapid footfall stunned her into immobility and all she could do was watch helplessly as a large shadow filled the access pipe, coming directly towards her. Catherine wished desperately that she were able to shrink into the wall behind her, and her hands flew to her mouth to stifle the cry that was suddenly building in her throat.

And then -- there he was, his eyes haunted, widening in panic as he caught sight of her where she leaned and fought to regain her breath. In the evening light that came in from the park, their gazes locked, and they stood riveted to the spot, neither of them able to move or produce any sound.

All Catherine was aware of at that moment out of time was that it was him. She didn't care how she knew. She just knew, and that was enough to take in his strange features without fear or repulsion. It was him...and he was perfect.

Suddenly a noise from outside the entrance startled them into alertness again. He spun around and back to her again, and despite the nightmarish quality of the situation Catherine did not fail to read a silent plea in his eyes before he set into motion, reaching for a lever above his head and disappearing behind a heavy steel door that slid into place behind him as mysteriously as it had opened only an instant before.

Catherine had hardly any time at all to gather her wits about her again, for the source of the noise from moments earlier skidded to a halt in front of her, looking around searchingly. The man flinched as she suddenly pushed herself from the wall and took a step in his direction. She hoped fervently that she appeared more confident than she felt.

"Hey, lady," he gasped, "you...I mean...I thought...."

"Yes?" she prompted, meeting his stare defiantly. She regretted that she couldn't see his face more clearly. It was getting quite dark outside now.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he apologized, raising his hands and turning his palms towards her as if to prove that he didn't carry anything threatening. "I obviously confused you with someone. I didn't mean to...interrupt...whatever you were doing in here."

Catherine could tell by his rambling that he was bewildered and insecure, and she noted that his movements were a little awkward, as if he were favoring one side of his body to avoid pain. But there was no time to ponder her observation as he suddenly stepped up to her, startling her. Keeping her voice as even as she could manage, she demanded, "Maybe you'd better tell me what you are doing in here, mister. I'm with the district attorney's office, investigating a crime that took place nearby." And before she even knew it, she was producing her badge, holding it up for him to see. "Maybe you should tell me..."

"I told you I was looking for someone," he said hastily. "And I thought I saw him disappear into this tunnel, but it must have been you I saw." With that he backed off and was gone before she even had time to request that he identify himself.

"Just as well," she mumbled resignedly, slumping back against the wall and sliding down to sit on the sandy floor. "This whole thing is getting out of hand anyway."

Only now that the jolt of adrenaline was slowly subsiding did she find the time to face what she had seen. Whom she had seen. That face...although she hadn't been able to see it all too clearly...had been like nothing she'd ever encountered or could have imagined. Once again she found herself doubting the reality of him, for how could anyone look like that? How could anyone possess features like a blending between man and lion? And yet, she realized with a shake of her head, there had been nothing threatening about him. Nothing animal-like. Those eyes, she mused, would have been all but normally human, if not for the otherworldly intensity that had shone from them. At least, she conceded eventually, she had never seen any human being with eyes like that. Nor any non-human being, for that matter. Catherine knew that she should have been scared out of her skin, and yet the fact that she was not didn't astound her in the least.

Scrambling to her feet, she brushed the sand off her coat and walked over to where she knew must be a lever. It was hidden behind a small grate overhead, and she traced the rusted iron bars with her index finger. For a moment she was tempted to pull it in order to learn more about the secrets of the man who had been haunting her thoughts since the first time she'd seen him. Yet she knew that she must not do this. She must not let curiosity get the better of her. There was too much at stake here. She could feel it, although she'd have been helpless to explain how she knew.

Leaning her head against the bars of the large grate in front of the steel door, she realized that it was high time she put her mind to the problem ahead. She had yet to walk home through the park at nightfall! Not particularly smart, Chandler, she thought with a sigh. But it couldn't be helped, and so she turned slowly and walked toward the exit to the park, trying not to think of all the dangers lurking outside.

*

Far too slowly, the heavy door slid into place behind Vincent, the grating noise it produced sounding much louder than usual. He stopped just inside the dimly lit passageway and turned to lean his head against the cool metal surface of the door. Instinct told him to run, to put enough distance between himself and the intruders, but he knew he had to stay and prevent as much of the impending disaster as he could. Quickly he weighed his options, all the while fighting the impulse to simply bolt from the place and hide deep down where no one would find him. But, no, that was not an option. The woman had seen his face, and the stranger who had pursued him was heading toward the entrance. In fact, Vincent's acute hearing was already picking up the man's footsteps as he passed through the access pipe.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Vincent hoped against hope that he wouldn't have to kill the man. Should the woman tell him what she had seen, he would no doubt use the hidden lever to gain access to the tunnels. And that must never happen. A small voice in Vincent's head told him there was a slight possibility that the woman might not betray him -- for some reason that was far beyond his understanding -- and in that case she might be in danger herself.

He had no idea who the man was and what he might possibly want, but that mattered very little right now. What mattered in the first place was that the tunnel world must be kept safe. If he hadn't outrun the stranger and put a safe distance between the man and himself, he'd never have dared to enter the access tunnel and thus risk the discovery of the park entrance. But then the woman had been there, annihilating his advantage of speed and thus setting off an uncontrollable chain of events.

Pressing his ear against the iron door, Vincent strained to make out what was happening beyond. The voices were muffled, but he was still able to follow the conversation taking place outside. His thoughts went back to the woman's face and he remembered the first time he'd seen her, last Christmas Eve. Again she had looked at him directly, only this time she had seen him. That shouldn't have happened. Too much depended on his invisibility. But she had seen him, and not only him but the lever as well. She had become a threat to his world, and yet he was sick with worry that she might be harmed by the stranger outside.

When the man's footsteps eventually faded as he left the tunnel, Vincent heard the woman sighing, a sound that seized his heart and made him tremble. She had not told the stranger about him, had not given away his secret, and Vincent felt tears of gratitude welling up in his eyes. He remembered her wide-eyed gaze as she had looked into his face. There had been wonderment, and surprise, and...yes...awe, but no fear. Of that he was certain. Fear he would have felt. He could feel such things in people -- all kinds of strong emotions...and fear above all else. This woman, however, had not been afraid of him.

The metal was cold against his cheek, and he pushed himself away. She was leaving, her footsteps barely audible anymore. Vincent turned and hurried down the corridor to where a junction of pipes emerged from the wall. He stooped to pick up a piece of broken brick and banged it against the protruding pipes. Only seconds later a response came in a rapid, metallic staccato. Vincent nodded, relieved to hear that Kipper and Samantha had come home safely a while ago. Without further hesitation he returned to the exit and reached up to trigger the opening mechanism again. A quiet shadow, he left the shelter of the tunnels and followed the woman into the park, into the night. She must not be left alone in the darkness. She must be kept safe. He would see to that.

*

A soft rain began to fall and Vincent pulled his hood a little more tightly about his face. The steady sound of the drizzle against the foliage overhead muted many of the familiar sounds of the park at night, yet he could follow the woman's footsteps quite easily. Keeping to the shadows of bushes and trees, he moved along swiftly and soon he could see her ahead of him, silhouetted in the halo of the lamps that lined the paths. But suddenly there was something else, a noise barely discernible from the symphony of sounds by which Vincent usually oriented himself in the dark. The hairs along the nape of his neck stood on end as he realized that there was someone else following the woman. Without taking his eyes from her slender figure before him, Vincent melted even deeper into the shadows, pausing and listening intently into the night. He didn't have to wait for long until a rustle in the bushes on the opposite side of the path drew his attention. The twigs parted and afforded him a glimpse of a face -- the face of the man who had hunted him earlier and had almost followed him into the tunnels.

The realization that most likely the man was after the woman and not after him was no consolation at all, and Vincent tore his eyes from the stranger to resume his pursuit of the woman who had already put some distance between them again.

To his vast relief the man made no attempt to actually reach the woman. He was just following her, watching her.

When she finally reached the exit of the park and stepped into the light of the street lamps, mingling with the stream of passersby on the sidewalk, Vincent was forced to stay behind. He watched helplessly as the stranger kept following her, crossing the street behind her and even entering the building into which she disappeared.

Vincent's innate sense of protecting people he cared about made his mind reel as he searched for a possibility to help the woman whom he owed so much. Finally he decided that all he could do was warn her, and in order to do so, he must get into that building. A thousand warnings, the likes of which he had heard from his father a million times, went off in his head, yet he couldn't help himself. Pulling the hood of his cloak more fully around his face, he scanned the front of the building and directed his attention to those apartments that lay in darkness. After several minutes, lights had gone on in four of them, so -- assuming that the woman must live in one of those -- he stepped out of the bushes and made his way across the street. Of course, there was no way of openly entering the building, so he hurried to get away from the brightly lit sidewalk and ducked into a small alley between two adjacent buildings.

Vincent knew the streets of Manhattan very intimately, and so it didn't take him long to find a manhole from where he could get into the basement of the building. It wasn't too difficult, either, to ride up to the roof on top of a freight elevator. Only now did the truly hazardous part begin. Climbing down to the terraces in question held a great danger of being spotted, but Vincent was lucky and his second attempt was successful. Not without a twinge of guilt, he peered through one of the large French windows and was rewarded with a look at the woman moving about in her apartment. How could he warn her, though? He wished he could leave her a note, but even if he had pen and paper with him, there was no way of knowing that she would find his message in time. And tapping against the window pane to tell her right away was out of the question. That she hadn't been afraid of him when she'd encountered him down there in the drainage tunnel didn't mean she wouldn't be beside herself with terror when she found that he had followed her to where she lived. So he decided to simply stay where he was and watch over her as best he could. He would try to get a message to her another time.

Slowly Vincent withdrew from the window to the darkest corner of the terrace. He sat down and leaned his head against the wall so that he could hear what went on inside the apartment. The muffled sounds that reached him told him that she was showering and preparing for bed. Everything was quiet and peaceful and he shifted slightly to make himself a little more comfortable on his long, silent vigil.

*

Snapping shut the book she'd been trying to read, Catherine sighed and swung her legs over the edge of the bed once more. She was too excited to concentrate on the story or to relax enough to find sleep. So she grabbed her robe and went to the small kitchen area in order to prepare herself a cup of herb tea. Maybe that would soothe her agitated state of mind a little. Settling down with a mug on one of the small couches in her living room, she allowed her mind to wander back to the events of the evening. How could something like that be possible? How could someone like...him...be real? Although she had seen his face for only a few seconds, his features were deeply ingrained in her memory. Regrettably it had been rather dark in there, yet it had seemed as if some mysterious light had shone from his eyes.

Taking another sip of the aromatic tea, Catherine wondered what color those eyes might be. She couldn't help but imagine that they were the shade of bright amber. Somehow that seemed the appropriate color for a creature like him. She remembered the first time she'd seen him standing in the early morning light, throwing back his head in a soulful gesture that had instantly captured her heart.

Suddenly her mind returned to the stranger who had staggered into the tunnel right after the lion-faced man, obviously in pursuit of him. It had been even darker by the time he arrived, and all she could recall was his silhouette. She had hardly been able to make out his face, but his voice and the way he had moved, despite the slight incapacity she had noticed, had told her that he was still a young man. Now that she thought of it, she realized that she had not felt threatened by him, although he had startled her enough to almost make her panic. But what she remembered most clearly was the fierce protectiveness she had suddenly felt for him, the hunted man with the haunting face.

Setting the mug aside, she uncurled her legs and rose to her feet, but she was still unable to let go of the enticing memories that wove through her mind. Did he live down there? Did he live alone? Were there others like him? Pushing open the French doors, she drew a deep breath of fresh air before she crossed the terrace and leaned against the balcony rail, looking out over the city. The park below was a dark rectangle, interspersed with tiny points of light. Was that where he hid? Where he spent his days and roamed the nights?

She sighed and turned around, facing the apricot light that warmed her apartment. For a fleeting moment she wished she were able to give him that, to give him light. Light above all else.

*

The clicking noise of the door handle startled Vincent into immediate alertness. His heart pumped frantically as he realized that he must have dozed off, if only for a second. Instantly, he froze, knowing that his only chance of not being discovered lay in total, silent immobility. It was dark in this part of the balcony, and he forced himself to believe that she wouldn't discover him.

From the corners of his eyes he watched as the woman stepped out onto the terrace. She stood there for a long moment before she turned and afforded him a look at her face. He had never seen her in such a wealth of light and he swallowed at the picture she presented. Her hair fell loosely about her face, and her eyes held a dreamy expression. He couldn't help but notice that she was beautiful, a thought that -- with the practice of many years -- he was quick to suppress.

Her sudden movement startled him anew as she turned to walk slowly along the balustrade, her fingers idly stroking the leaves of the balcony plants. For an instant he considered flight. He knew that she'd be too startled to see much before he'd be off into the night. But he also knew that such an action would leave her disoriented and scared -- and with a feeling that her home wasn't safe anymore. She deserved better than that. He owed her. There was no way of not startling her, but if he stayed and confronted her, at least there was a slight chance that he might be able to explain himself and assuage her fear.

"Please don't be afraid," he said quietly, his own voice sounding strange to him in this strange place.

"Who's there?" She spun around, her eyes searching the shadows, and he could only marvel at her restrained panic given the situation she was facing.

"I only came to leave you a message," he said truthfully. "I didn't mean to frighten you." Relieved, he noted that his voice seemed to have a calming effect on her. She wrapped her arms around herself in a gesture of self-preservation, looking intently in his direction, waiting.

"I have reason to believe," he began again, "that the man who followed me into the tunnel was actually following you."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Me? What makes you think that?"

"He followed you through the park earlier," Vincent said hesitantly, "and I saw him enter your building shortly after you did."

"So, you followed me, too?" she concluded, and he was momentarily helpless as to how to respond.

"At night the park is a dangerous place," he explained eventually.

"Please could you come out of that corner?" she asked suddenly, taking him by surprise.

Slowly, carefully, he shifted his weight and rose to his feet, still reluctant to have her see him clearly. Yet, he took a step into the soft light that fell through the balcony doors and lifted his head to meet her gaze. "Thank you," he said huskily, "for saving me earlier."

Her eyes smiled at him as she answered, "You're welcome." For a moment they just stood facing each other, at a loss for words. "Do you live down there?" she inquired softly. He lowered his gaze uncertainly, and before he could respond, she added, "No, don't answer that. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

His head came up again, and he gave her a fleeting smile. "You must be careful," he admonished gently. "That man may still be in the building." With that he slowly turned to leave.

"Wait," she exclaimed, impulsively reaching for his sleeve, and he stopped his motion. "Please can you tell me how you got up here?" she asked, clearly worried that, if he could do it, someone else might, as well.

After a brief pause of consideration, Vincent explained his ascent, certain that this would alleviate her worries. "To take such a risk," she said at last, shaking her head.

"It's not...too much of a risk...for me," he replied haltingly, feeling how his fingers curled into fists with his increasing unwillingness to pursue the topic any further.

"Will you tell me...your name?" she asked softly, and the sound of her voice dispelled the tension that had been building between them.

"Vincent," he heard his own hoarse reply.

"I'm Catherine," she replied, and his eyes fastened on the small hand that she extended to him in silent invitation. He swallowed hard at her obvious intent to actually touch him. With effort, he finally lifted one large, furred hand and held it out before him, suspended. She took it and squeezed it gently. "I'm glad to meet you at last, Vincent," she said, smiling.

Her palm was smooth and soft in his, and he couldn't help but return her guileless smile, thinking fleetingly that he hadn't felt such a tender warmth around his heart in a very long time.

"I...must go now," he managed finally. She released his hand, and he withdrew it, automatically hiding it between the folds of his cloak.

"Thank you," she said, and he nodded briefly before he turned to start his ascent to the roof. Although he knew that she couldn't see him any longer, he felt her eyes following him.

"Good night, Catherine," he whispered as he reached the top of the building, and he couldn't resist glancing back down to the terrace where she stood, her upturned face pale in the dim artificial light from inside her apartment. "I'll never forget your kindness," he added quietly before he straightened and headed for the elevator.

REVELATIONS