Chapter Eleven
Quest for Answers
As his blood mixed with hers, he hurried through the dim tunnels. When he arrived at the hospital chamber, Father and Mary were waiting to take Catherine from him. One of his family had tapped a message on the pipes when he passed them carrying an unconscious Catherine in his arms.
"Are you all right?" Father asked his son as he cleaned Catherine’s wound.
"Yes. Is Catherine going to be all right?" Vincent asked anxiously, hovering beside the hospital bed.
"I believe so. The blade missed all the vital organs. Who did this?"
"Paracelsus. He tried to get me to kill her, and when I wouldn’t, he drugged me and tried again."
"Why would he do that?" Mary asked.
"He knew I could not live if I harmed her."
Mary nodded, "Of course."
Moaning, Catherine called his name. Instantly, he was at her side. When he took her hand, she calmed down. Gently he kissed the fingers folded into his.
"Vincent?"
"I’m here, my love. Truly here."
"How wonderful," she murmured, and she drifted off to sleep. When he tried to free his hand, her grip tightened. She was not about to release him, even in her sleep. Mary brought him a chair, and he gratefully sat down, suddenly very tired.
After tending to Catherine, Father said, "Your wounds need to be taken care of also, son."
As Father and Mary cleaned and dressed his wounds, he said sadly, "I saw weapons in the hands of my family,"
"Yes, we did what we had to, " Father replied. "It was not an easy decision to make."
Mary sighed deeply, "It certainly wasn’t."
"You too, Mary?" Vincent asked shocked.
"Yes," she nodded, "There was no other way."
"To think I was the cause of all this."
"No, Vincent, never think that. It was John’s actions and no others."
"He will never harm anyone again," the young man declared.
"How sad. Such a wasted life," Mary added.
"He was a good man . . . once." Father finished bandaging Vincent’s wounds.
*
Catherine slept through the remainder of the day, holding tightly to Vincent’s hand. He marveled at her quiet courage, she who claimed that her strength came from him. He knew differently. It was the courage that he had sensed in her when they first met, and it had saved them all.
Someone was running their fingers through his hair, waking him from the first truly restful sleep since the nightmare had begun. He raised his head to gaze into her happy swimming eyes. He gently wiped away a tiny tear that rolled from of the corner of her eye.
"I was afraid that I would never do this again," she whispered, continuing to comb through his hair with her fingers.
"I was afraid that I would never come back. The Other other one is very powerful."
"Where is he?" she asked, wondering if he had gone forever.
"He is here. I don’t know how to explain this, but he is very quiet. He seems to be resting, waiting."
"When I met him on my balcony the first time, I thought it was you. Only when I looked into his eyes did I realize you weren’t there. How did you stop him from killing me?"
"I didn’t. I was still far away at that time."
"He stopped himself," she said in wonder. Then gripping his hand excitedly, she said, "Don’t you see what that means? You can never hurt me. He came to my balcony many times after the first time. One time as he was leaving after I had told him that I loved all parts of you, even him, he said, ‘I love you.’ Oh Vincent, he loves too. He must have learned how from you."
"I have been afraid of him all my life, yet you accepted him without a qualm."
"How could I not? He is part of you."
*
Seeing them together as he fully realized they should be, Father’s heart was filled with joy. He stood in the entrance unwilling to interrupt them. When Vincent noticed him and waved him in, he entered with a contented smile on his lips. "I’m glad to see you’re awake, Catherine. How do you feel?"
She turned a dazzling smile on him. "I hurt a little, but I’m fine."
The dressings were dry. He was pleased to see there had been no further bleeding. "You should stay in bed for a few days then you can get up. It’s good to see the two of you together again."
"Thank you, Father," she said, beaming at him from her position in Vincent’s arms.
"Father, would it be all right if I took Catherine to my bed?" Vincent asked. "I believe she will rest better there." At Father’s nod of agreement, he picked her up and strode from the hospital chamber.
Constantly at her side, he cared for her until Father said she was well enough to return Above.
*
At last the day came when she was given what some would consider good news: that she was well enough to go home. But she didn’t want to go home, thank you very much; she had found what she had searched for these past few months, and she was loathe to part from him.
Father gave her the ‘happy’ news when they were sitting in the library, indulging in a spot of Father’s favorite brandy to mark the occasion.
Vincent had been more taciturn then usual. He glanced at his father then asked, "Father, what happened to me?" These quietly spoken words shattered Father’s peace of mind as he had dreaded this conversation, even as he knew it would happen, afraid of what it would do to Vincent’s newly restored balance and contentment.
He shook his head, wanting nothing more than to bolt from the room but knowing that his son deserved the truth, no matter how it hurt him to tell it to him. "We don’t know exactly. Did John ever say anything about it?"
"Only that I was found unconscious with chunks of the tunnel ceiling around me. I thought that possibly a piece had hit me on the head. The other one never worried much about it."
"I believe Catherine has the possible answer to what happened." He felt like a coward but he passed the question to her.
"Catherine?" the young man glanced in surprise at her.
She nodded. "Yeah, I was walking through the office when I was driven to my knees by two blows: one to the back and one to the head. It didn’t feel like something falling or hitting me. Both of them were forceful blows. I believe some of Paracelsus’ men caught you unaware."
"It is possible," he agreed. "I had much on my mind as I walked back home."
"I was unconscious for two days," she added.
"Paracelsus said that I was unconscious for two days, also. Could our bond have grown that strong?"
He shook his head in wonder.
"I think so. How else can we explain it?"
Cautiously, Father asked, "Do you remember what happened to you while you were with John?"
Noticing the look that passed between Catherine and Father, he said, suddenly afraid of the answer, "Not much. Not until the last day. Why?"
Father stared at his hands and Catherine’s grip tightened on her love’s arm. "What? What is it, Father?" he asked almost frantic with fear. "You can’t ask me a question like that and then say nothing. What did I do? Tell me."
"After all you’ve been through, I don’t want to cause you any more pain."
"Please tell me. I can stand anything but not knowing." He pulled free from Catherine’s restraining grip and marched across the room. "Tell me," he pleaded.
Almost wringing his hands, Father rose and paced to his agitated son. Looking up at him, compassionately, he said, "What I am going to tell you will cause you great pain."
Vincent braced himself for whatever was coming. "Go on."
"You don’t remember much until you woke up in the cavern, protecting Catherine?"
Vincent nodded. "Only snatches of conversation."
"And you weren’t in control during that time?"
"No, the Otherother one was in complete control." Vincent was becoming very uneasy with the way this was going.
"Well, during that time John used him as a . . . what would you call it, Catherine?" he turned helplessly to her.
"A . . . hitman."
"Yes, that’s it. He used him as a . . . hitman." It was becoming more and more difficult for Father to continue as he saw the dawning horror in his son’s eyes.
Almost unable to say the words, Vincent asked, "How many did I kill?" He began to close in on himself.
"Three," Catherine answered, coming to him and taking him in her comforting arms. "But they were the lowest of the low. Drug lords. I believe, if Paracelsus had achieved his goal of driving you insane, he would have used the other one to take over the drug trade."
He dropped his head on her shoulder, shaking with shame and dejection. "Three innocent men," he moaned.
"Vincent, listen to me. They were not innocent. They were evil."
"But who am I to pass judgment on them? They never harmed me or my loved ones."
"True, but they harmed many others," Father interjected.
"Paracelsus judged them, not you. He is the only one to blame for the killings," Catherine said.
He shook his head. "But my hands committed the deeds."
As she took each hand and kissed it, she gazed up at him steadily and unflinchingly. "These hands, yes, but not the will behind them. Vincent, you judge yourself too harshly."
Sadly, he said, "Still they were the means of three deaths."
"Guided by Paracelsus. You weren’t there to guide the Other, to hold him in check. Don’t you see, Vincent, during the time you were gone, he had only Paracelsus to guide him?"
Gazing into the distance, he said, "I didn’t want to come back. It was so quiet and peaceful. No pain."
"Where were you?" she asked.
"Remember how we talked about going to the mountains, to your special place?"
A look of pain crossed Father’s face as he remembered that it was his fears that had kept Vincent from experiencing that innocent joy with his Catherine.
Wistfully, she answered, "Yes."
"That’s where I went. A valley in the mountains. I sat beneath a huge oak tree, my back pressed against its rough bark. There was a lake at my right hand and a river at my feet. Small animals and birds came out of the forest that surrounded me and played around me unafraid. I was content; I was at peace." The look of utter peace and contentment on his face as he remembered his safe place made Father turn away and wipe the tears from his face with the edge of his shawl.
"What brought you back?" Catherine asked softly, having felt the same peace he had felt there when she would visit the real valley in the mountains, knowing how difficult it was the leave.
He lowered his eyes to hers. "A shadow crossed in front of the sun. I knew someone I cared for was in danger. Then it passed, but my heart was reawakened. I began to remember faces. I remembered you. Then I knew I had to leave my safe haven because you needed me."
She clutched at him, bringing his face down to hers. "I’ll never stop needing you, my love," she declared. And then she kissed him in front of Father, in front of anyone who happened to be there. Never again was she going to deny the rightness of their love.
"I knew the Other would never readily return control to me so I waited until that final day when Paracelsus was trying to get him to kill you." His words stumbled as he continued, "Then I-I joined with the other one and we slew him. I am a murderer."
"No, Vincent, you are not. John is the murderer," Father said. "He is the one who planned everything. He used the Other. He was trying to drive you insane. You weren’t accidentally hit by a piece of falling rock. Some of his followers laid in wait for you, struck you over the head, and kidnapped you. All for his own nefarious purposes. We learned all this from some of his minions and that he had been drugging you from moment that you were brought to his domain."
"Remember how the crystal dust affected your ability to control the Other?" Catherine said, clutching him tightly around the waist.
He nodded in shame; recalling an image of his father with a bandaged arm.
"Remember how hard it was for you to work your way through its affects to come back to us as the gentle and loving person we all know."
He nodded again with a heavy heart. He didn’t know how much more he could take.
"Yes, remember, Vincent. The blame is not yours; it’s John’s. Believe that," Father stated earnestly.
"How can you look at me?" He hung his head in shame and turning away from the loving eyes of his beloved, he stumbled to the far side of the chamber. With a hand pressed tightly against the rough stone wall, he leaned forward dispiritedly.
"Oh Vincent, Vincent," she breathed, coming up behind him and sliding her arms around his waist and laying her cheek against his back. "What can I say to you? What can I do to convince you that it wasn’t you?"
Leaning his head back, he replied, his voice filled with agony, "I need time. I need to be alone. I have only just returned, but I feel that I must leave you again. Can you forgive me?"
Slowly she nodded against his back. "If time is what you require, then take all the time you need. We will be here waiting for you when you return."
If you return, Father thought, hoping with all his heart that his son was at last free of the man who had tortured him from the moment he had been brought to the tunnels.
Vincent’s eyes were alight with the love he felt for her, and he bent all the power of that love on her. As he turned to go, she called to him just before he reached the small metal stairs, "Vincent, come here."
He returned to her side. She reached up and pulled his face to hers then kissed him gently and lovingly. "Remember, Vincent, you are beautiful inside and out, and I love you. You are my life. Without you, there is nothing. Come back to me. Remember my words."
One last lingering love-filled look then he mounted the three steps and was gone.
Anxiously, she turned to Father, "Will he be all right?" she asked.
"I hope so; I pray so. I hope your words got through to him."
*
Catherine spent the rest of the day with her friends in the tunnels. She just didn’t have the heart to go back Above and have to answer all the questions that she knew would be coming her way. Sitting beside Father and Mary and downing one of William’s delicious stews, she glanced around the dining chamber. Her heart filled with love as she watched the happy faces of the children; some of whom had never known a kind word or loving embrace until they had found their way Below. Even Eric who had lost his sister to the plague had settled in and had adopted a young girl about Ellie’s age named Josie who had been brought to the community only a month ago. Even he would want to live nowhere else. He had found love here and acceptance. Catherine, herself, had found all the surrogate relatives here that she didn’t have in the world Above: parents, uncles, aunts, cousins, nieces, and nephews. The only blight on her happiness was that she could tell no one Above about them. And that was something she dearly wished she could do, but it was a small price to pay for her happiness. Joe always wondered how she could face the horrific things that she encountered in her daily duties, and she couldn’t tell him that when things got too hard for her, she simply retreated to her family Below and let their loving concern heal her. And then, of course, there was Vincent. Just his presence could remedy any hurt she felt.
After dinner, Father walked with her to the threshold beneath her building. "Are you sure you feel well enough to go back?"
"Don’t worry about me, Father; I’m fine."
"Those are Vincent’s words, and they never worked with him. I always worry."
Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I know you do and I appreciate it. Take care, Father."
"Take care, Catherine."