Chapter Eight
Stirrings of Love
"Hi ya, gorgeous," Benny beamed, swooping up beside her as she exited Dr. Grafton’s office building.
"Hi, Benny. Up to your usual tricks, I see." Thin and intense, he reminded her of a roadrunner. After all, he claimed to be the fastest thing on two wheels.
"Yep, still the fastest and best in the city," he bragged. Straddling his messenger bike, he handed her a large manila envelope. "I been looking for you. Something from Father."
"Well, it looks like you found me all right," she commented, waving the envelope at him. "Thanks, Benny."
"See ya, beautiful." He was soon lost in traffic.
The note from Father told her that they had found Paracelsus, and as they feared, Vincent was with him. He wanted her to come as soon as possible. Because she wanted to tell him what she had learned from Dr. Grafton, she went directly to the tunnels.
*
"I just got your note, Father. I was coming right down anyway." She settled into the chair next to his desk. Jonah, Matthias, and Geoffrey had returned shortly after lunch, confirming Geoffrey’s information, and he had immediately sent her the note.
"Tell me," she urged.
He told her how Geoffrey had met Vincent and the confirmation of that information. And that Geoffrey had seen him there when he went back with Jonah and Matthias, and that he had let them leave with no trouble. "What did you learn from the psychologist?" he asked, leaning his elbows on his old mahogany desk. She had told him that she had an appointment with Grafton to learn what she could about amnesia.
"If we try to force a confrontation with Vincent, we could very well push him so far that he would never come back. Dr. Grafton says that we must wait for him to come to us. Chance meetings, little hints or clues are all right, but we must be very careful. He’s in a very fragile state right now, and he could go either way." She sighed, leaned back in her chair, and stretched her legs out, wriggling her cramped toes. She was frustrated. She wanted to do something, but her love and concern for him kept her from doing anything rash. She sighed deeply again. "I hate this, but I guess we just wait."
"Ah, Catherine, that’s the hardest thing to do . . . wait."
"Well," she pushed herself erect, "I’ve got work to do Above. Might as well get to it." She walked around the desk and bussed Father on the cheek. "I’ll let you know of anything that happens, Father. I love you."
She was gone before he realized what she had said. He smiled, warmed by her words. As bad as this situation was, it had one redeeming feature: it had brought the two of them closer together.
*
"There you are. Where have you been lately? You’re never here when I want you." Paracelsus had just entered Vincent’s room. "I need to talk with you."
"I’m here now," Vincent answered rather insolently. "What do you want to talk about?" Vincent settled back on his bed, resting on one elbow, a leg bent, waiting to hear what the other man had to say.
Paracelsus was not happy with his reply; he was getting a little too disdainful. But he had more important things to do than to chastise him now; that would wait until later. "It’s time to go after Catherine Chandler again. We must be rid of her soon if my plans are to work out."
Inwardly, Vincent cringed at her name. He knew he would be unable to kill her, as he realized with a sinking heart, that she had changed him. Nothing that Paracelsus had to say could convince him that she deserved to die. But by going along with his plan, maybe he could protect her.
"When do you want it done?" he asked.
"Anytime within the next few days. I want to send the DA a message; so I want her death as gruesome and gory as possible. You understand me?" He looked closely at Vincent.
Veiling his eyes, he nodded in agreement. Why was her death so important to him? She was just a woman working in the DA’s office. "Within the next few days," he agreed.
After Paracelsus left, Vincent began to think of all the things he had been told and how they differed from what he had found out. He didn’t trust the man anymore. In fact, he seriously doubted if he had been told one bit of truth. With the doubt, the dreams increased. He was dreaming day and night. Sometimes he couldn’t separate the dreams from reality. He was dreaming more and more of Catherine and others who had names such as Mouse, Jamie, Kipper, Samantha, and more, including the old man with the cane that he now knew as Father. This was the reason that he walked alone through the corridors. Still, he didn’t know enough to completely abandon Paracelsus. And the only way he could protect the woman was to remain were he was. Not only that, there were still so many gaps in his memory; he didn’t know where he could go if he left.
*
The dreams had changed. No longer were they brutal and ugly but gentler, more urgent ones of searching and seeking for something or someone lost. She had left some memento on the balcony of their past life together each night since her talk with Dr. Grafton. Last night she left her most treasured possession: the crystal pendant that he had given to her on the first anniversary of their meeting. All the other keepsakes had been moved and touched but left where she had put them. Only the crystal pendant had been taken, proving to her that it had some powerful hold over the other one.
That night some overwhelming emotion woke her: a sense of loss, of hopelessness, of yearning, of need, of desire, and of uncertainty. All these emotions were contained in one roiling emotion. It washed over her, leaving her weak and breathless. He was out there . . . on her balcony. This time there was no hesitation. He needed her. She found him standing in the same corner. Her heart ached for him when she saw how unhappy he looked. How she wanted to run to him and take him to her heart, but she waited for him to make the first move.
After what seemed like hours, he spoke, "What are you doing to me?"
"Nothing."
"I see your face every day and dream of you at night. What kind of spell have you put on me?"
"What you are experiencing is love, Vincent."
Agitated, he paced back and forth. "I see so many people and places in my dreams."
"When you are ready, I will tell you about them. Be careful, my love. Don’t let Paracelsus know you are remembering."
"Am I?" he asked, sounding like a little child.
"Yes, and Paracelsus will kill you if he can’t control you."
"No, not Father."
Taking a chance that she might drive him away, she went to him and took hold of his arm. He shivered as she touched him. "He’s not your father; Jacob Wells is," she said.
Recalling the dream, he asked, "The old man with the cane?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure? Father has told me of my past."
"He lies. He is the king of lies. Watch him. Judge him against you heart. You will accept it, Vincent."
"My heart tells me you are not as he says you are." He stared into space. Bringing his gaze back to her, he said simply, "There is someone else beginning to stir in my mind. And I fear him."
"Oh, don’t fear him, Vincent, what you feel . . . is the other part of you, his memories, his life. He is a necessary part of you as you are of him. You were a part of that life. A part that he feared. He is a gentle, kind man, and he feared your ferocity and darkness even as he used them to protect me and those he loved."
Clearly crestfallen, he stated, "And you love him."
"Yes, I love him with every fiber of my being. But I love you too because you are an important part of him. I love all that is Vincent."
Silently, he looked at her intensely then abruptly turned, and as he climbed over the balcony wall, he looked at her, "I love you," he said quietly as he disappeared into the darkness.
"Come back, Vincent. Don’t leave," she called after him. She waited a few minutes then went inside. He would not be back tonight. She hoped that she had given him a lot to think about.
As she was about to get back into bed, the phone rang. With a sinking feeling, she answered it. "Hello?"
"Sorry to wake you, Radcliffe, but we’ve had another slashing."
She sank down into the love seat, "Oh no." Could Vincent have left here and then gone on to kill again? No, he had just left.
"Hey, Cathy, it’s just another member of the syndicate. Why so upset?"
"I was hoping that the slashings were over."
"No premonitions this time, huh?"
"None. I guess that’s why I was so shocked."
"How come you’re awake?"
"Couldn’t sleep,"
"You haven’t been sleeping well lately, have you?" he asked with concern.
"No, I haven’t," she admitted. "Let’s talk about that later. Give me the address. I’ll be there as soon as possible."