This Crossover Story is inspired by The Moonlight episode, 'Sleeping Beauty'.
This night had brought Mick too many discoveries. Standing outside Josef's New York Brownstone, Mick had fully expected Beth to accept his offer of a steak and a martini. Then as rapidly as her eyes lit up, her sparkle for him diminished and she admitted her need to return to LA and settle things with Josh.
When faced with the reality of a "turn gone badly", had Beth's fear of commitment to a vampire pushed her back into a human relationship that seemed tenuous at best? Mick reckoned the whole Sarah Whitley situation would have flipped his switch, Beth was intrepid she wasn't stupid.
Mick peeled his flat hand off the cab window and sought to seal the sentimental gesture in his heart by clutching his fist into his coat pocket. He'd take that walk, find the park and see what amounted to the "local wildlife". Josef had graciously fed him well so he could catch the flurry of the city's scents and sounds without his fangs urgently dropping. Yes, Mick could take a walk, set out to enjoy the jazz, the street scenes and the people watching, perhaps some of it would paint a brighter picture in his heart, his heavy undead heart.
The revelations of Josef's assassination attempt, his New York secret and Mick's strenuous physical defenses went down hard on top of the scene Beth and Josh played out before they left. It was too much to process with Beth jumping into the cab, sure her quivering lip almost gave him hope she'd cave and stay. Yet, she had not.
Mick ambled in the glow of the street lights, the humidity cast a rosy glow around the globes and he had cause to think back at the last time he had been in NYC. Coraline had brought them out in 1969, dragged his militant ass into that Hippy musical "Hair", he recalled fidgeting in his box seat while the cast sang songs about peace and love. Coraline kept a rigid hand on his thigh to keep him from bolting for a smoke and a drink. Her pacifist streak stopped this side of feeding, she was never one to show mercy to a prospective meal yet she had expressed in public that she felt Mick's tour of duty in WWII was an act of "interfering" with foreign governments. So "déclassé", she'd hiss.
tonight's soundtrack:
Where Do I Go - Hair (The New Broadway Cast Recording)So that night in 1969 he anxiously awaited the end of Act 1, as the men of the stage "tribe" burned their draft cards. That act rankled Mick, he just wasn't of that generation. The character, Claude put his card in the fire, then changed his mind and pulled it out. He asked, "where is the something, where is the someone, that tells me why I live and die?" The tribe emerged naked, intoning "beads, flowers, freedom, happiness."
Mick had quaked in the chair, his hands steeled like talons around the armrests. This scene ending in generally gratuitous nudity had wrapped up all the questions of his vampire life in 1969. Indeed "where is the something, where is the someone, that tells me why I live and die?" Mick did not know. He wanted to rip the throat out of Coraline. The cast wasn't even realizing how their plaintive words could affect a very disturbed member of the audience…..one very unhappy vampire.
When the last note of the song left their lips he bolted, a virtually unseen streak within the rising house lights. He blew past the ushers and flew into the vulgar lights of Broadway, seeking the quiet of Central Park; he literally leapt up the fire escape of a building and gracefully executed what Cora would have called a Jeté en avant, grand across the tops of the tar papered brown stones. The night air had invigorated his dead lungs, even with the city's filth he felt the sting as a sign of life, a life he had lost.
Where do I go - Follow the river, Where do I go - Follow the gulls
Where is the something, Where is the someone that tells me why I live and die
Where do I go - Follow the children, Where do I go - Follow their smiles
Mick flinched at the sounds of the city, actually the sounds of humans firmly ensconced in their fashionable brownstones. If they had known who was crawling across their roofs they would have locked their windows. Although Mick heard the sound of families, those sounds were foreign to him now.
For Mick and Coraline there were no children in their lives, unless you counted the comely 17 year olds Mick knew Cora seduced and consumed in one sitting. Floating to earth he took the street in a couple of loping strides and headed to the quiet greenery of Central Park, far, far away from the stink of Coraline's entourage.
If he didn't think he'd warrant rousting my NYC's finest he'd have stretched out on a park bench and enjoyed the night sky. Instead he prowled in the moon's bright path, collar up on his tux jacket, gliding thru the night. He sniffed the air to find the remnants of sex behind a copse of trees, and then he saw the prostitute wiggle off on Lucite platforms, oblivious to the vampire 50 feet from her. Mick shook his head and walked on, head down, biting at his bottom lip as the man emerged a few moments later adjusting his tie up to the collar of his dress shirt to saunter on the path out of the park.
Down the sidewalk further the waft of rot filtered toward Mick, the torrent of young decay washed over him as he deciphered the direction of the pack of fairly new turns. Mick sprung down a side path, away from the young Turks. Tonight he wasn't ready to rumble, he didn't need to display vintage strength versus callow savagery. No matter which direction he headed, the echo of their barbed comments hung in the air.
Then as Mick extended a foot to lope further across the park he heard the surprised gasp of a human, a young woman. That was it; he turned on his heel and sprung into "protector" mode. The three, dressed in cheap club wear – very "un" undead, just another sign of their brutish ways if their Sire had seen them. Who said the undead cornered style?
"If the lady said, NO, the lady means no" Mick spoke sub-tonally, to let the wild boys know his nature.
"She's making an informed decision" the shortest thug emphasized, still striking the pair of gloves into the palm of his other hand, in a defensive pose in front of the woman held down by his brothers in crime.
"Really?" Mick voiced, his eyes cutting to the inebriated woman, perhaps in her late 30's. Her club wear had been pawed, if she hadn't been frightened at the invitation in the bar, she was now, "Let the lady go and see if she runs or if she stays". Mick took a defensive stance a good distance back from them. The trio sniffed at Mick, recognizing his age, yet ignoring his judgment.
"Pops…..take a hike" one of the guys holding her jerked his head at Mick as he shook her by the arm.
"If I was your Pops I'd take more than a hike, I'd take a strap across your backside" Mick confessed, showing his age.
"Whoa…you run old school, huh? How about we school you" and with that they dropped the girl for a more formidable opponent, Mick. As they rushed him the woman kicked off her shoes and ran like a scalded dog. The trio, spiked with drug infused blood, exhibited more erratic energy than Mick.
Their punches landed in all the right places for bringing the older vamp to his knees, Mick gave it his all but found himself on the receiving end of an ornate silver bladed stiletto. As they hurled verbal taunts they wiped his blood on their trousers and made steps backward from his frozen body, "You just take a little rest there, Pops, maybe a dog will come by and keep you company" The alpha man tipped his cap at Mick and they were gone in a vampire second.
Mick lay there, staked in the park. He watched the clouds move over the moon, he speculated this might be it. His burning paralysis allowed him to only reflect on his wasted life and his untimely death while the lyrics of the song ran in a loop:
"Is there an answer in their sweet faces that tells me why I live and die
Follow the wind song - Follow the thunder - Follow the neon in young lovers' eyes
Down to the gutter - Up to the glitter, Into the city where the truth lies
Where do I go - Follow my heartbeat, Where do I go - Follow my hand
Where will they lead me and will I ever discover why I live and die"
The dew kissed grass began to seep thru his jacket, the backs of his trousers. He pegged his hopes on dealing with Coraline when and if he limped back to her. She'd have all kinds of "I told you so's" if he got out of this, "If", was the biggest two letter word in Mick's vocabulary tonight.
So he waited, for the essence to drain out of him, for his strength to dull, for his senses to shut down. Mick lost count of the times the lyric looped while his eyes locked on the wafting clouds. Did he fear the sounds of heavy footfalls? He figured it was his just desserts, didn't his Aunt always say, "You'll get your just desserts?"
Mick waited for the slice of machete or the cavalier flick of a lighter to finish the job. His eyesight was dim now as the heavy figure stood behind his head, just out of Mick's peripheral vision.
The heavy breathing didn't frighten Mick. What more could happen? Had Mick's eyes fallen shut or had he gone blind? Mick felt a presence over him and scented a damp, strong musk as he was lifted effortlessly in two strong arms. Mick numbly felt the roughhewn fabrics of whoever held him in those two arms; it had to be a strong guy he surmised as he felt the behemoth moving cautiously thru the night air. No words were exchanged as he moved with stealth, he could feel the mountain of a man ducking into shadows, yet the stake had paralyzed his senses, he couldn't see his savior. Mick heard heavy lungs heaving whistled inhalations, where was he being taken?
He felt the sensation of descending in darkness, was he going to Hell? He gave up and his protector felt Mick's resignation, it added about 20 pounds to Mick's weight. Thru caverns and winding paths the savior moved silently, his gait mirrored the rhythm pinging from the rock walls as he carried his injured find.
"Vincent, where have you been, who is that?" a gentle voice lilted in the cavern room as the man she called Vincent gently laid his injured burden down. With a swish of wool he removed his cape and hung it on the ornate hall tree. The delicate older woman's face took on a more serious expression when she saw the tuxedoed figure awash in blood, clutching the carved wooden handle of the silver stiletto thru his heart. Then Vincent held the lantern aloft to hang it over the table she gasped back in fear, their guest sported blue-white eyes and fully descended fangs.
"What nature of beast have you brought into our home?" her hands rose to her face as she stepped backward from their "guest", "Vincent, you're only 17, haven't you read of the recent attacks. These demons walk the earth and now you have brought them to us, Below?"
"Mary, this demon, you call him; he was defending the honor of an innocent. There were three of his type and there was no way for me to overpower the three of them" Vincent straightened Mick's legs out, then gently uncurled the two handed grasp around the wooden stake. He stood at the foot of the table and scanned every inch of the "demon" on his table, "If understanding serves me correctly he is paralyzed as long as the stake is in place."
"So, how long will you watch him?" Mary's curiosity overwhelmed her, their guest seemed refined by the tuxedo, the jewelry he wore, especially his patent leather shoes. Mary had not seen shoes this fine in all her life.
Trusting Vincent's confident statement she skirted an arm's length of the broad table, peering with old eyes the handsome man/demon. She caught his frightened eyes, how the long lashes rimmed those clear eyes frozen open in a bright blue/white stare, had he seen his end Mary wondered as she drew her shawl closely around her old shoulders.
The vampire's hair had curled in response to the damp grass he had laid in, curling tighter in the subterranean cavern. She couldn't help but think he was stunning, a beautiful menace, "Father will want to know why you've done this, of all the creatures to bring Below" Mary's expression said it all, Vincent's heart ached at the thought of hurting his family or disappointing Father. Mary stepped backward after she had burned every inch of this extraordinary demon into her brain. Now she had seen everything.
At this moment in the echoing cavern Mick felt the senses of sight and hearing return. He felt the difference of the wet ground to the planked table, he felt the air cool and waxy, and most harrowing, he saw the behemoth who had carried him from the field. Mick felt like treasured prey as this lion/man skirted the table attempting to make Mick more comfortable. Mick felt Vincent's leathery hands as he massaged the stringent tightness out of Mick's desperately curled fingers. Vincent's claws curved dangerously from his fingers and thumbs, yet with a surgeon's grace his touch brought some relief to Mick's fears.
Vincent hovered over Mick's face, close enough to warm Mick's undead flesh as he spoke, "I do not wish to harm you, and I brought you here to save your "life," your existence. All I ask, is you take your leave directly after I have fed you. Are you able to blink or move your eyes?"
Mick darted his eyes to the right then the left with great effort.
"Is that a yes that you will not endanger my family?" The rumbling purr of Vincent's breath invigorated Mick and he repeated the movement.
"I am going to leave for a few moments, no one will bother you. I need to gather a few things" Vincent's voice hypnotized Mick, the rumbling velvet bass, the courtly syntax of his words. So Mick responded positively and Vincent was gone in a smooth, catlike swish of leather and flowing golden mane. Mick's confusion mounted, who was this man, where was he, what was going to happen next?
Why do I live (beads, flowers)
Why do I die (freedom, happiness)
Time was immeasurable. When Vincent returned he bore a wooden tray with a decanter, a wedge of cheese, a loaf of bread, cuts of cured meats and a large knife. Without regarding Mick, Vincent cut himself liberal portions of the food. He poured a goblet of what looked like sherry and then poured a small portion into another. "I believe that I need to take a bit of something before I attempt to feed you, sir". There, stilled by the stake Mick watched the muscular teenager remove his cape. Mick had heard the woman chastise him for being out at 17, Mick wondered if there were more like him and how much more powerfully built they'd be as adults. His staked heart sunk just a bit as this creature named 'Vincent' prepared to consume a hasty repast.
Once Vincent had brushed the crumbs of the crusty bread off his quilted vest he drew the goblet closer and picked up the knife. With some thought he made a face of resignation and held his wrist over the quarter filled goblet of sherry. With a shake of his golden mane he screwed up his courage and drew the knife over a prominent vein and dribbled his blood into the goblet.
Declaring the goblet's contents sufficient, he bound his wrist with a linen length and tied it off using his free hand and teeth. Mick compared the length of Vincent's canines compared to his fangs. Measure by measure bodily Vincent towered over and around Mick yet Vincent realized once Mick was fed he could crush the man who protected the world Below.
"All I ask is your kindness" Vincent whispered into Mick's ear as he bent to remove the stake.
Mick's body quaked at the sucking feeling of the stiletto exiting his chest. Exhausted by the ordeal he laid there, only able to nod. Vincent's arms once again lifted the dangerous creature and he carried Mick to the large settee. Sitting Mick upright, Vincent smoothed his jacket and shirt and then held the goblet to Mick's cracked and parched lips. Their eyes met and Mick took cautious sips of the lion/man's offering, sherry sweetened the deep carmine, thick blood. The copper tang of human blood seemed weak to the taste and texture of this communion cup.
Once a few sips passed Mick's lips he became fully aware of the slightest sounds underground. He heard the winds whispering outside the chamber, the skittering of tiny underground creatures, Vincent's husky inhalations as he watched his guest regain his faculties. Mick grasped the goblet from Vincent's furry clawed fingers as the two of them sat at opposite ends of the settee.
Color and humanity flowed back into Mick's pale face and a smile grew from his former grimace. Mick thought he saw a smile lift the corners of Vincent's mouth, but his host's head was down cast, his long golden mane obscuring his face. The two misunderstood men recognized their odd places in reality and they sat in a companionable silence for a few moments before Mick spoke.
"Thank-you, did I hear your name is Vincent?" Mick extended his hand to his host. Vincent's head drew up to survey his guest. Mick could feel the slow pounding of his host's heart; he deeply inhaled the musky, feral scent emanating from Vincent.
"I am Vincent, otherwise known as the Creature of Central Park, the stuff of Urban Legends" His hand met Mick's and dwarfed the vampire's pale hand. Was Vincent ribbing himself with the urban legend comment? The beast seemed to have a dry sense of humor.
"I'm afraid; I too am somewhat of a fantasy. Too much bad cinema I would guess" Mick smiled, breaking the ice between them, "Thank you for saving me from them. They were beasts, feral new turns" Mick caught himself before he spilled too much of the undead's lore.
"Do you spend much time in the park?" Mick's brow knitted at the thought of Vincent exposing his nature, even under night's cover, "I mean I'm grateful as hell you were there or I'd have been done for" realizing Vincent had secrets too, Mick shook his head and withdrew, "I'm sorry, that's an impertinent question, you too need your secrets kept"
Vincent watched in silence, measuring Mick's graceful posture.
"I can't thank you enough for the meal" Mick stroked at his chest, feeling fully healed, he pulled at the ripped and stained fabric, separating the dried fabric from his skin. Mick felt Vincent's eyes bore past the torn shirt, watching the rapid healing process, "Will your community be concerned for their safety with me here, like this? It seems your friend was concerned" Mick nodded toward the hallway, where he caught the heartbeat of a lurker.
"Mary," Vincent raised his voice and they both heard shuffling in the sandy hallway, Mary entered looking rather guilty at her eavesdropping.
"I'm sorry, Vincent, I feared for your safety" Mary's eyes met Mick's and she glared until Vincent's hand made a peaceful pass as if to say, "we are safe". Suspense hung in the damp air, the two anomalies stared between sentences, as they sought to see the humanity in each other's eyes….to look past their supernatural veneers.
"I should be going, no need to stir your community, Vincent" Mick took care to rise slowly, his hands in the air in peaceful surrender. Vincent mirrored his movements, and then wrapped his arm around Mick's shoulder, partially obscuring the stranger from other's view. As they took slow steps toward the portal they made quieter, introspective conversation. They found the portal came too quickly and each of them hung against the wall wanting for more time, each of them sensing they shared more than physically evident.
As Mick stared out the partially opened portal he turned and extended his hand, Vincent caught him in an embrace and held Mick's head to his chest. The two of them rumbled unnaturally in their own way until the rumbles gave way to hearty chuckles.
"Good night, Mr. St. John" Vincent rumbled.
"Good night, Vincent" Mick choked back as he turned and sped at a zephyr's speed across the dark green grass. Mick knew the sunrise was eminent, the glow had backlit the trees and Mick felt somewhat naughty for straying from the show. Not that Coraline would have missed him.
The memory of their meeting ended as Mick subconsciously found his way in the general area where he had been rescued by Vincent. He skipped flat stones over the pond in Central Park as he thought about the underground community, wondered what it had become since 1969. 39 years changes a community, or so Mick felt as he regarded his perennially 30-something reflection in the pond.
Had Vincent aged much? Would he be the "Father" figure now? Drawn by curiosity, drawn by loneliness Mick recounted his steps toward the tunnel. Under cover of the stars he found himself where he left Vincent decades before. Mick made feeble efforts to knock, seeking the weak spot to trigger the door mechanism. His hearing told him nothing and he drew back in frustration.
First Beth and now this social defeat, Mick stepped back sadly to return to LA, he buried his hands deep into his trouser pockets and tucked his chin, with an unnecessary sigh he turned and froze at the obstacle before him.
"Mick St. John?" The cloaked figure's voice was unmistakably familiar, hoarser with age yet velvet in its maturity. The furry clawed hand reached out and Mick enthusiastically fell into Vincent's broad embrace.
"I was in the neighborhood" sure it was a weak excuse, it even sounded funny to Mick yet Vincent spun him around to give them entry to his world below.
"I would have felt slighted had you not dropped in" Vincent politely rejoined, "Has it been almost forty years?" The lion/man's voice wavered with a tinge of humor as he expected Mick to keep up with him thru the curves and topography of the world below.
"I've been in LA all that time; this was my first trip back, honest!" Mick smirked as he caught Vincent's profile in the LED lights strung along the ceiling of the tunnel, in 69' they had torches and lanterns, oh how far they had come.
"So, what brings you to NY this evening?" Vincent's introspective tone cut thru Mick's pain, it was as if they were college pals bellying up to the bar for a reunion brewski. Perhaps Vincent had spent 40 years alone too….would there be a wealth of support waiting for Mick in that cavern Vincent called a chamber? Mick swallowed hard and hoped to be welcomed for a while.
"A friend, his. . . ."Mick stumbled for a term for Sarah "wife passed away" Mick felt he was mostly telling the truth.
"I am very sorry for your friend's loss; perhaps you know the Dylan Thomas poem, that line seems especially appropriate: Though lovers be lost, love shall not; and death shall have no dominion." Vincent recited the words reverently and Mick felt the truth of those words for Josef and Sarah.
"Vaguely, written sometime between WWI and WWII?" Mick somehow remembered that point of trivia, must have been something familiar from riding a troop ship, it was all muddled in his memory.
"Well, since you were here last, I have taken new quarters, life goes on" Vincent had his own crooked smirk at the word "life" when trying to relate to his vampire guest, "I believe my wife is with our daughter, Above for at least another hour. I do have some wine, would you care to share a drink?" Vincent's tone softened as he drew back a heavy tapestry on a larger cavern encircled with illuminated stained glass demi-lunes. Large overstuffed furniture was grouped into two conversation areas, behind them rows of bookcases held volumes of old books. Although the room seemed to be artificially illuminated there were no phones or computers. The corner was dominated by a large writing desk holding prominent silver inkwells and quill pens. There as a letter opener was the silver stiletto Vincent had plucked from Mick's chest an age ago.
A graceful portrait hung over a mantle with no fireplace, Mick was visually stunned by the image. A notably fine-looking young woman stood in front of Vincent, his arms wrapped protectively and lovingly around her shoulders. He was his usual cloaked and fierce feline self with an added layer of affection for the woman. The loving image stabbed at Mick; here a man living underground had found a beauty for himself, while he stumbled thru the decades. Mickshook his head and wiped at his face while Vincent left the chamber for a decanter and glasses.
"That portrait was painted for us before our joining" Vincent reverently nodded to their idealistic image.
"She is a beauty" Mick accepted the goblet as his mind flew back to the night Vincent saved his life with a meal.
"And she drew me back from the edge of my feeling like a beast" Vincent raised his glass and Mick joined him, "To the beauty in this world" and they found fragrant leather wing chairs and began their reunion. While Vincent spoke Mick regarded the differences between the color photographs and the pastel sketches. The Photographic reality showed a Mother and Daughter at several ages both Below and Above, the romantic pastel portraits showed Vincent and presumably a son, from the cradle all the way thru a musical recital. The pastel proudly showed both children with their violins in a candlelit room festooned with wreaths and bows.
"You have children?" Mick drew on the images and Vincent mentioning his daughter being "Above".
"Yes, our daughter has elected to attend college at Columbia, Catherine keeps a brownstone near Central Park for their Above time together" Vincent could see the cogs whirring inside Mick's mind, "Freshman year will be especially hard on me" Mick could see Vincent's poignancy at his daughter growing up. "Our son is already in bed, his school day begins early"
"One of each, what a blessing" Mick pronounced the words as if it had one day been his wish.
Vincent nodded as they sipped and Mick wasn't sure what he could say without sounding odd, then again….this was a conversation between a Vampire and a Lion/Man. Could Mick recount that he had rescued a 4 year old girl, murdered his wife, stalked the girl until she grew to adulthood then sought to wrench her from her human boyfriend?
"Are you still the protector?" Mick queried, running his finger around the rim of the goblet. Vincent admitted Catherine had connected him with a publisher and he had been Editing University literature textbooks, it had given him a foundation for intellectual expression rather than to thunder thru as a caped avenger. "I'm getting older, Catherine was concerned for my safety" and with that confession Mick could see the occasional gray hair in his muzzle and mane, "I would surmise this is not an issue for you".
Vincent's eyes narrowed at Mick's unchanged physique and they both re-settled themselves in their chairs. Before they could pour their second goblets Mick's sense caught the fragrance of vanilla and musk followed by the clatter of clogs. A smattering of code on the pipes made an announcement that caught Vincent's ear.
"Catherine is returning, she'll join us shortly" Vincent rose as if to straighten the room, he gestured to Mick, "Please excuse me for a moment," then he entered the next chamber returning in a few moments with the very same tray he had eaten from in 1969. Vincent arranged the tray on the ornately carved coffee table in front of them, "When Catherine returns we generally share a midnight snack, I realize your dietary concerns….." Vincent was unprepared for his guest this evening.
"I'm well fed tonight, no stake adventures" Mick held open his coat for emphasis, "This is quite pleasant, being with good company, if I'm not the third wheel" Mick demurred as Vincent nodded and rose to meet Catherine at the threshold.
"Good evening, my love", Vincent tucked her into his embrace and kissed her lips, they shared a loving glance and Vincent turned her to introduce Mick, "Here is a very old friend of mine, Catherine, Mick St John".
Catherine began to remove her gloves as Mick reached for her hand, hoping to not shock her with his body temperature. Her delightfully bright eyes danced at Vincent's introduction and she embraced her mate as the three of them made small talk for a few moments. It was only after Vincent and Catherine made their small plates that she realized Mick wasn't eating.
"Mick, how old of a friend could you be?" she leaned over the tray of grapes and cheese about to snag a second helping on a crust of sourdough bread. Their eyes triangulated and in silence Catherine realized this was "Mick" from Vincent's tales of interesting people he had "rescued".
"So you've heard of me" Mick tilted his head and grinned a bit, "I guess you were just a young thing when I met Vincent in 1969" Mick caught the expression on Vincent's face, his pure regard and affection for her. Did Mick behave like this with Beth? He thought he did by the way Josef ribbed him. From Vincent's point of view, he shared an undeniable bond with Catherine. What did Mick share with Beth? Lately it seemed to be switched signals and confusion.
"Catherine was not even known to me at that time. We met in 1987" Vincent and Catherine reached for each other's hands and shared a brief lacing of their fingers. She swept a lock of gray streaked hair behind her ear and Mick caught the faded evidence of a scar on her cheek.
They sipped, the Wells snacked and Mick listened to tales of their courtship and finally Vincent facing his fears over hurting the woman he loved because of his "animal nature". Oh, brother….. Was this providence that brought him to the tunnel tonight? Catherine's gaze locked on Mick's reactions to Vincent's confessions.
"Vincent kept insisting I marry the man who was pursuing me Above, even though we would have never been a good match" Catherine's gray green eyes sparkled at proving Vincent wrong on this point, she glanced at him over her shoulder and Mick missed Beth so much more.
"I think I understand Vincent's position, honestly I find myself in the same place now." They felt Mick's pain and nodded.
"Does this woman pursue you ardently?" Vincent leaned in as if to say something Catherine wouldn't hear. Mick felt self-conscious for just a moment, his head down in his glass, and reflecting on Vincent's question.
"You might say that, she's not one to be ignored" Mick mused as he smiled at his hosts. All the similarities between the two couples flashed before Mick. Did Mick have any choice but to return to LA and speak up for Beth's heart?
"Well, then, Mick, you owe it to yourself and your love to reveal what's in your heart." Catherine inhaled deeply, and smiled with great satisfaction at her statement, then as if to share a secret, she gazed at Vincent for a second and returned her smile to Mick, "He lingered, I languored and then we both we finally leapt" She closed her statement with a soft chuckle, the two of them were quite a pair.
Just then soft footfalls approached, the loving couple exchanged a humorously suspect expression and waited for the child to enter the chamber.
"Father, it's loud tonight, the other boys won't be quiet, I want to sleep in your chamber" The small boy's words lisped "fatigue" yet his face screamed "curiosity" at the guest in his parents chamber. He was the image of Vincent, although Mick couldn't estimate his age.
"Jacob, your Mother arrives, we're entertaining an old friend and suddenly the dormitory is too loud?" Vincent reasoned with the boy as he held out his arms, the child lithely scampered on furry bare clawed feet into his Father's lap, then smiled at his success. "Jacob, may I introduce Mr. St John, an old friend of mine. Mr. St. John, may I introduce our son, Jacob"
The boy leapt to his feet and bowed at the waist, "Good evening, Mr. St John. Welcome to our Chamber, are you moving Below?"
Mick found the boy engaging, his heart flew into his throat at his old fashioned behavior, "I am pleased to make your acquaintance" Mick stood up and returned the bow, then sat back down feeling he had traveled thru time to West Adams when boys doffed their caps. Jacob climbed back into his Father's lap and Mick regarded their appearance. Jacob was less "furry", his face more dimensional like Catherine's. Jacob's coloring was more like a younger Catherine.
Before Mick could answer the young boy he drilled, "Do you live in another Below?" Jacob's small voice piped as he gave long looks at Mick.
"Jacob that is not a polite question for our guest, the important issue is that he is with us now." Vincent whispered, turning his eyes back to Mick as he nuzzled his son affectionately, "Let's get you tucked back into your bed" Vincent rose with the boy in his arms and took slow steps toward the arched doorway. "Say good night, Jacob" Vincent return to swing the child in for a kiss from his Mother, and the family swelled with warm emotion. Mick's heart quivered at their lives together, as good as he could wish it, his life even with Beth would never find this peace.
"Excuse, me, Catherine, Mick, I am going to tuck Jacob into bed" Mick listened for heavy footfalls yet with his son in his arms, Vincent fairly flew with weightless feline energy.
"Are you afraid of her being injured by your nature?" Catherine asked demurely as she poured more wine. Mick's head tilted as the question registered. He shook his head as his thumb drew across his lips, as if to feel Beth's kiss.
"I believe she would be a better. . . ." and then Mick hesitated using the "V" word, not wanting to frighten lurkers, "well, better at what I am than I am" Mick and Catherine leaned over the coffee table, speaking quietly, as if confiding inevitable truths.
"If she loves you as you've shared, then trust me, your nature is the least of it. We joined in 1989, we've spent scant nights apart and when we do we hold each other so deeply within our soul's bond we know each other's feelings." Catherine's wistful expression bared her soul to Mick. It was as if Beth were speaking to him, "She won't see them as liberties or effronteries. If she desires you then she'll welcome all that you are – YOU just have to welcome all you are"
Catherine rose to open another decanter, as she returned Vincent returned to the chamber. When he saw her attempts at twisting the handmade closure on the home bottled spirits he extended his clawed hand and ran a clawed finger around the seal, gracefully returning it to her before he found his place sitting opposite Mick. Their lives were built of simple acts done with love.
"Has Catherine given you all my secrets?" Vincent shined the smile of a man long satisfied, satisfied by his mate, his life, his family.
"Just sage advice" Mick admitted as he reared back in the chair, crossing an ankle over his knee. The world Below seemed to have warmed with the three of them together. In the bit of silence between them Mick read from their faces their history of pain and triumph, their legacy of love for their children and the society that had seemed to burgeon in the 21st century. Josef wouldn't believe a word if Mick had ever deemed to spill his whereabouts tonight.
Vincent reached his hand out – as if Catherine were his lifeline, then leaned forward to Mick and he expected Vincent's emotional message to hold insight for his human/vamp quandaries.
"Mick, if I may be so bold for me to say…." Vincent's eyes wandered the chamber, perhaps reviewing the history of his life with Catherine, "For more than two years I buried my love, my need to be with Catherine. It nearly destroyed me; painfully it affected both of us. I upset Catherine on so many levels when I couldn't trust myself to love her, to become a real couple"
Two years? Vincent pined for her for only two years? Mick restrained a smile…"Vincent, I rescued Beth when she was a child. My devil of a wife wanted to give us a family, I had to…." Mick tripped over the words he'd use, "I had to fight her for the child, I had to stake her and then she burned while I drove Beth back to her mother."
Catherine's eyes widened at the brutal story. Vincent settled back, drawing a protective arm around his mate. Mick shifted uncomfortably then realized the story was spoken out loud; he had to complete the tale. "The child, Beth changed me. I stopped feeding fresh" Mick's voice lowered to a whisper, not wanting the confession to waft thru the tunnels., "I followed her in the shadows, kept her safe, hid from her for 22 years." While Mick spoke he noticed Catherine's head resting on Vincent's shoulder, nesting in for his dark fairy tale. "Then a few months ago she caught me watching her at a crime scene and she asked me if she knew me"
Vincent's head nodded, his white top teeth drew his lower lip into a bite as he processed their similarities and Mick continued the saga.
"I never intended to reveal my nature, and then thru a dark turn of events her friend became involved with one of the criminals of my past. He shot me full of silver and held a blow torch to my back, Beth shot him, killed him straight out. I thought I got away, of course she followed me and caught me feeding" Mick weighed how he'd delicately describe his state, and elected to just point to his canines and eyes, "I was full out. . . . and. . . . she saw me and when I admitted what I was she didn't run." Mick's face softened as he described Beth's resolve.
"So she does understand who you are" Catherine's appetite picked up as the story seemed to get tense. She slid out of Vincent's embrace and filled her small plate again, sitting back and chewing as Mick continued. "Our paths kept crossing, I'm a private investigator and she's an internet reporter and she's been seeing an Assistant DA for almost a year. . . . ."
"Catherine knows all about that line of work, we spent days and weeks apart with her job only for her to need my strengths desperately" Vincent kneaded her knee with a chuckle. Again they exchanged a soft gaze and Mick almost felt like he was interloping.
"Well, we weren't like this then, yet I am relieved to be out of that atmosphere" Catherine nudged Vincent back as she spoke and Mick truly could believe her sincerity.
"Well, he's not too thrilled that Beth keeps running into me. I know I generate a lot of heat and it's not the good kind." Mick bent forward, his elbows on his knees as he placed his glass on the table, "We came out here on a story and he hadn't expected her to be traveling with me. Then the story seemed to have affected her deeply."
"The two of you seem to have much to discuss" Vincent shrugged, thinking back to his days of reckoning.
"It's so much more than just our future as a couple." Mick figured, in for a penny, in for a pound, "You see, my dear friend attempted to turn his love in 1955. When she should have risen, she didn't." Mick watched Catherine's eyebrows knit in concern and empathy for this stranger and he continued the sad tale, "Josef felt so much grief he's kept round the clock medical care for her all these years. She lays there his "Sleeping Beauty" comatose and physically unchanged from the day he attempted to bring her into our world". Mick's head hung down, his elbows on his knees, his hands as if in prayer. Their calm pledged their empathy for Vincent's old friend.
"Do you feel Beth is frightened that limbo could be her end?" Vincent posed the question Mick had been too fearful to speak out loud. In the silence of the cavernous chamber the Wells heard sniffs and Mick's unnecessary inhalation of tears as he caught them from his cheeks.
"Exactly" Mick nodded his head energetically, then threw his hands wide, "Josh can give her a family, a finite life in the sun. All I have is this" Mick's raised head revealed the full measure of his nature, fangs fully descended, eyes tear stained and glazed white with death.
Catherine's lips quivered for a moment, and then she shook her head as if this was an apparition. Understanding that the world was an even encompassing place than Below and Above, she hoped to bandage Mick's heart with words of earnest support.
"Mick, in your darkest hours, impediments seem to outweigh prospects. You feel your love is true, right now I know you feel Beth just needs your reassurance, you need to fly to her, literally, have that soul to soul" Catherine's words lay in his heart as seeds waiting to germinate in spring.
Mick's eyes reverted back to bloodshot hazel as he regained his composure. "I would guess it is sometimes easier to dream than to do". He said this emphatically, gathering his courage, "I'll bet this is the last time you let a wayward undead in your home"
"When you put it that way it sounds a bit bleak, don't you say?" Catherine reached across the coffee table and enclosed his hands in hers." Where's that confidence and swagger Vincent saw in you when you left him in 1969?" Mick would have blushed that Vincent had mentioned his "perpetual coolness" in retelling the tale, he nodded and smiled shyly.
Vincent's head reared back and a chuckle rolled from his chest, he shook his head, rippling a mane of golden hair with every move. At once Vincent raised his right hand in a "pledge" and swore, "I swear to you, Mick, I believe my mate has extrapolated on my tale" Once again the Wells shared almost a secret mirth and this time Mick was their topic. "Are you honestly telling me all the lore is legend? Does literature lie?"
"I think literature has dealt both of us a disservice" Mick capitulated, "I think I need to step above with a new attitude. I wanted to break the ice tonight before our flight back. So many issues tangled up in feelings, in facts. I suggested some jazz, a steak dinner" Mick and Vincent's eyes met on the mention of "steak" and they shared a secret smirk, "Not that kind of stake" Mick nodded to the stiletto still on the desk." I thought we could get over some of the bumps, then she got that look, and she was in a cab, pressing her hand against the glass and I just started walking" Mick voiced resignation, frustration, pain.
"When will you return to Los Angeles?" Catherine inquired softly, recalling she had no confusion over who she loved; Vincent had instantly stolen her heart.
"I should have flown back with her, it seemed she needed space to think about Josh, and I was ready to rush right in and make a play for her, romantic music, dancing" Mick shook his head as if he had gaffed big time.
"So, now you'll travel back to have that conversation?" Vincent poured another round of drinks and they claimed their glasses. "Here's to revelations ripe with romantic vistas".
"Here, here" Mick nodded in high spirits while he surreptitiously checked his watch, "Now, although I am a creature of the night, you good people have morning obligations. I'll take my adjusted attitude and catch a cab to the airport". The catharsis had Mick's scalp tingling; he was drawn to return to LA with a fresh position on his nature.
As Catherine and Vincent gathered beside Mick to walk him to a portal near a taxi stand they realized he might not pass this way again in their lifetime, another 40 years might find the two of them as bones buried under stones.
"I had no idea what we'd chat about tonight, I'm just grateful to have had the time together", Mick reached an arm around each of his hosts and clutched them into an embrace they returned.
"Let us know how all of this works out, won't you?" Catherine clasped Mick's hand fervently, "If you sent a letter in care of Catherine Chandler to the address above we'll get it"
Mick nodded graciously and grasped Vincent's hand with both of his, "Thank-you both for the perspective, you breathed new life into me tonight"
"Indeed, Mick, that is what friends are for, especially old friends" Vincent nodded as Mick's cool flesh slid from his hand and with vampire speed Mick turned and sprung with a vertical leap to the top of the ladder to ground level.
Mick memorized the street and number and hailed a cab back to Josef's for his suitcase, he was immersed in his optimism all the way to the Brownstone. Once he had collected his suitcase he made a bee line back to the cab. Before he lowered himself back into the cab he measured a lung full of night air, it smelled of opportunity and wonder, "JFK, United Departing flights, Please" Mick asked the cab driver as he settled in for the ride.
Mick figured if he caught the 6:30am flight to LA he'd be on the ground by 9:45 and perhaps catch Beth before her second mug of coffee. Would he catch the scent of Josh from her bedroom? He said a silent prayer that she had already sent him down the road, toothbrush in hand.
While he made his way thru the obstacle course that was JFK, he juggled scenarios of the conversation he and Beth might have. Catherine and Vincent made it sound far easier underground! By the time Mick was securely strapped into a First Class seat he had figured it was neither he nor Vincent to be a "Beast", Love was the bigger Beast.
finis