A/N: Some of our readers may have realized by now that we enjoy more than one TV series or fictional world. This story, written by one of our members sometime ago, relates to the world of Diana and Vincent before Harry Potter came into their lives (Harry Potter and the Escape to New York)– a short time before – and illustrates the growing dynamic between the two of them. There are references to this story in Chapter 24 of Escape, but as a story, it is a stand-alone.
The Beast Within
It hurts. The voices, the cries, the people. They knock to gain entry, demanding, pleading. Must still them. Must have silence.
There is another one. She is taunting, she is seducing. Using her body to lead men on. Her flesh cries out for release, for purification by the angel of light.
Must still the voices, must purify her flesh. Her sinful flesh resists, striking: she is untrue to herself, to what is good and beneficial to her. Struggling against her impurity is my purification and hers. Only a few moments longer and she will be released and the voices stilled. Only a few moments longer.
An emissary of the evil one approaches. Must flee. She will not be cleansed. I have failed my Master. Please stop the voices….
Diana at first didn't register the incessant ringing of the telephone, immersed in studying the latest piece of evidence of the Angel of Light killing spree. At the seventh ring she picked up the offending instrument.
"Bennett."
"Diana, it's Joe!" Something in his voice jolted her empathic senses to full alertness. "I hate to call you like this, but you better come down to St. Vincent's"
"Another victim?"
"Yeah." He paused, then continued. "I think we've got a break on this case. The victim's still alive."
The victim still alive. That did sound like the first major break in a case that, even by Diana's standards, had dragged on too long. Fifteen women brutally beaten and killed by someone calling himself the Angel of Light. Her thoughts were interrupted by Joe.
"Bennett, you still there?"
"Yeah, I'll be right down."
"I'll see you there." His end clicked down.
Diana couldn't help but smile. Still as aggressive as ever, Joe would never be one to waste time on the telephone. Say what he wanted to say and then hang up.
As the cab pulled up to the front entrance of St. Vincent's Hospital, Diana spotted Joe pacing the sidewalk. He took her arm almost before she finished paying the far and walked her rapidly to the I.C.U.
"We still haven't established the victim's identity. Whoever did this took care to remove any identification she may have had," Joe began.
"Same MO as our friend?" Diana asked.
"It seems to fit. An isolated spot in Central Park, no sexual assault, just physically assaulted, a white angel T-shirt."
"How come the victim's still alive?"
"A patrolling cop noticed movement in the bushes and went to look. Scared the creep off."
Diana couldn't repress a shudder. She'd seen too many examples of 'The Angel's' handiwork since she'd taken the case on, several frustrating weeks ago.
"Did the cop get a good look at him?"
"Enough to confirm the Angel is a man," said Joe sourly, since that had been plain to everybody from the beginning, given the nature of the crimes. How many women beat up on other women, after all? Joe continued, "It was dark in the drainage tunnel – the cop couldn't make out too much detail."
"How bad is the victim hurt? Given any statement yet?"
"Not yet, and we can ask the doctor right here," Joe replied, as they turned the corner and entered the intensive care unit.
A doctor bending over a patient hooked up to an IV unit turned and straightened as Diana and Joe approached.
"Dr. Fournier, Diana Bennett, NYPD." Joe made the introductions quickly. "How is she?" he continued, looking past the doctor to the woman on the bed.
"She's still unconscious. We suspect internal bleeding and she's being prepped for a complete battery of tests. We can't say anything more than that."
"Any idea on who she is?" Joe asked.
"No. She hasn't said anything, even in delirium."
"Can I see her?" Diana asked suddenly. The doctor nodded and Diana approached the bed.
It was perhaps the sight of the victim's pale white hand or her abundant auburn hair that jolted Diana. Lunging nearer, she turned the victim's face gently away from the wall and looked down into the face of her sister, Susan.
"My God!" she breathed quietly. She stood stock still, aware of the doctor's and Joe's eyes on her, yet unable to move. Instead her hand gently caressed Susan's battered face.
"Bennett! Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost," Joe said to break the silence. He moved closer to view Susan.
"Joe, I can identify the victim for you," Diana began in a calm voice which surprised even her. "She's my sister Susan."
The face she lifted to Joe was white with shock.
"Your sister? Oh, no!" He moved to place his arm around her and led her to a chair next to the bed. "Just sit down and take it easy," he counseled as she began to shake uncontrollably.
"What was Susan doing downtown?" Diana wondered aloud. "Why did he do this to her? Oh, Sue, Sue." She grabbed hold of Joe's arm so hard she probably was cutting off the circulation. He didn't object until, after some minutes, Diana released him, looking up apologetically. "Sorry, Joe. I was just a little shook up to see her there."
Rubbing his arm, then shaking it, Joe's eyes followed Diana as she rose and gazed upon her sister's motionless form. The only sign of life was the rise and fall of her chest. It was obvious to Diana's experienced eye that Susan had been subjected to a severe beating. Her face was distorted and bruised, bearing little resemblance to the smiling, cheerful individual Diana knew so well.
"I'll make him pay for this, Sue," Diana said in a voice so low Joe could barely hear her. She raised her head and looked in Joe's direction, lost in thought. The thoughts weren't pleasant. Her eyes had gone glacial.
"Bennett, can I talk to you outside for a moment?" Joe asked, interrupting Diana's thoughts. His voice sounded harsh in comparison with his sympathetic tone moments before.
His hand on her arm was tight as he propelled an unresisting Diana to a nearby waiting room. Looking around to confirm the room was empty, he turned to Diana.
"Bennett, I'm taking you off the Angel case," he said in that same hard tone.
"Off the case! Maxwell, this is the first break we've had in weeks, and you're taking me off the case? Why?"
"I think we both know why."
"Spill it, Maxwell."
"Diana, I've seen a lot of good cops cross the line and make a case personal. That's your sister in there and I'm really sorry she was the latest victim. But because it's your sister, in my professional opinion you're ready to cross that line. You're ready to make this personal."
"Joe, I'm a professional. I know how to stay on the right side of the law – on this case as well as any other one. After all, I've been on cases that involved me deeper than this without becoming a vigilante. I've invested a lot of time in this guy, Joe. I know a lot about him. Now, with Sue's recollections, we should be able to find enough to put him away. Please, Joe. I want him to come to justice."
Joe eyed Diana. For a moment, her sincerity seemed to have brought him to the point of relenting. Then he shook his head. "Bennett, you almost had me convinced. But I can't forget another case in which you got personally involved which ended up in a dead suspect. I've never said anything about what happened to Gabriel, but I know enough to know that it wasn't an open and shut case of self-defense. Go ahead, tell that one wasn't personal, Bennett. I nearly had you arrested because I thought you were on his side until you came through with the tiles and where he was. And you never did come through with the files on Vincent and the Chandler case. And I just heard you in that hospital room telling Susan you'd make him pay." Joe shook his head again. "No, Bennett: as of now you're off the case. You're on family leave due to the seriousness of Sue's condition. I want your files up to date and on my desk by tomorrow morning."
Diana opened her mouth to protest, but a look at Joe's face convinced her of the futility of any further words. Instead she averted her eyes and stared stonily ahead, hoping that Joe would take her silence as acceptance.
Joe looked at her quietly. "Bennett, I know how you're feeling. You forget that I've been there. I've seen friends gunned down and I've wanted to go back out there and nail the low life who did it. But it's no answer and I hate to see you ruin your career because you've turned vigilante. Because if you do, I'll be on your butt like flypaper on a fly."
Diana's face remained neutral as she turned to look at Joe. "If you don't mind, Maxwell, I'd like to go back in to see how Sue's doing," she said in a low voice.
"Just remember, Bennett, the files by tomorrow. And remember, I'm only doing this for your own good." With that, he turned and left the room.
Diana's thoughts on the drive back to her loft were a sea of conflicting emotions. The animal had gotten to Sue, had beaten her to within an inch of her life. The doctor had been frank with her, advising her that Susan was in critical condition with massive internal bleeding and fractured bones. He'd added it would be some hours before they would know if there was any permanent damage or if indeed Susan would make it.
Her anger had grown by the minute as she'd watched the emergency staff bending over Susan's pale, still form: she had always been the calm one, the trusting one, the one person in the family with a smile. The only person able to penetrate the wall of indifference, of isolation, Diana had built around herself – until Vincent had come.
She couldn't help comparing the figure lying on the bed with the memory of Susan's birthday party a week before. Then Susan had been so alive, basking in the love and acceptance of Larry and Alex. She had even confided to Diana that she was considering another pregnancy.
Diana's thoughts drifted to her conversation with Joe. He had taken her off the case. She was close to catching the Angel, she had the extra incentive from the attack on Sue, and then he'd taken her off the case. Something about not wanting a vigilante on the loose. As if he thought she didn't know how to draw the line. She'd been with the department for many years. She knew the ropes, the rules. Didn't he trust her? She asked herself angrily.
As the elevator took her up to her loft, her mind hardened. He wanted her off the case…fine! He'd get his blasted files in the morning, but nothing would stop her from making copies. No one else had the handle on the Angel that she had. And there was nothing to stop her from following up on some of her hunches. She knew how to be unobtrusive and secretive. After all, hadn't she kept the secret of the tunnels all this time from Joe?
She moved quickly on her resolutions, bundling together her files after copying all important leads and depositions. So -let Joe have the files, now. When that chore was done, she took a cab to New York.
Walking along the park trail near the drainage culvert she knew was one of the main entrances to the tunnels, Diana marveled how close the site for the Angel's attack had been to the World Below. Perhaps someone from the tunnels had seen his attack or similar ones. It would be one more lead to pursue.
Surveying carefully the taped-off crime scene, she mentally cursed the investigating officers. Footprints all over the crime scene proved once again that the greatest obstacle to successful resolution of cases were New York City's so-called finest.
Casting in a larger circle, Diana picked up traces of a man moving quickly away from the area. She bent down and emptied her mind, attempting to connect with the individual's mind.
"You were upset, discouraged. You had failed your master. He had sent you to purify, to cleanse yourself…and another. She is not clean. She will be eternally condemned. You must return to where you kept the child. She was young, is young. She had not had the chance to become impure, to have allowed the corruption of the flesh. You know the master will be pleased with such a young vessel."
Abruptly Diana felt her flesh grow cold. Of course: Susan hadn't been alone. Alex had been with her. She belatedly remembered that Sue had told her she intended to come downtown to go shopping with Alex. She mentally berated herself for not checking where Alex was sooner. But she's assumed that Alex was still in day care.
The Angel has Alex, Diana thought, feeling her anger harden into a cold steel purpose.
"Now it's personal, Angel!" Diana swore to herself. "Now it is personal!"
She continued to walk about the crime scene, images and thoughts filling her mind. Part of her cringed from exposure to the twisted impressions that invaded her, but her anger over Susan's beating and concerns for Alex drowned any reluctance to touch the Angel's mind further. She had to get to know him, get to know him so well that she could predict where he would be next: to stop him and….she didn't think any more about what she'd do when she finally caught up with him.
At midnight, she was reviewing the copied files on the Angel case and fitting into them her impressions of the crime scene. Alex's kidnapping presented a new wrinkle to the case: until then the Angel had only assaulted grown women and beaten them to death, afterwards performing the mutilations he called "cleansing" and "purification" in the notes he'd sent the police. With his assault on Susan interrupted and with his abduction of Alex, he no longer fit the predictable pattern established in earlier crimes.
Diana was so deep in thought that she failed to hear the door to her roof opening. Nor did she see the tall large figure enter. It was only when she felt Vincent's hand on her shoulder that she jerked in surprise and recognition.
"Vincent! You startled me!"
"Diana, something is troubling you. I came as soon as I could."
"How could you know something was troubling me?"
"I felt your distress earlier in the day…and now I feel nothing from you…as if you've closed yourself off from anyone."
"Something bad happened this morning," she replied quickly – too quickly, she felt. Vincent would be sure to pick up on that point and she didn't want him involved. "Afterward – I got busy, that's all."
Vincent regarded her for what seemed an eternity with his clear blue eyes. Then he shook his head. "No, Diana. There is something more. I know what you're like when involved in a case. What I felt this morning was pain, grief…and anger. What I feel now is not your usual concentration on a case, but something cold, something hard. No, Diana – you are still troubled."
Diana thought quickly. At times she cursed the bond between them. She needed all resources, all her skill and training…and she needed to be entirely focused on the Angel if she was going to catch him. Vincent's involvement would be a distraction; yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shut herself from him completely. Despite her best efforts, he'd been able to sense that something was wrong. Perhaps if she told him enough to quiet his concern but left out the details about Susan and Alex, he'd be content to comfort her and leave the case itself alone.
"This morning," she began slowly, not looking directly at Vincent, "I found that somebody I know…I knew…had become the latest victim in a string of killings I've been investigating. If you sensed grief and anger, it must have been when I went in to see my ….friend. I should be grateful: she's the first one to survive. This afternoon, I went to the crime scene to try to pick up impressions and clues. I can't let him continue to attack innocent women, Vincent. That's why you might sense some anger and hardness."
She had the sense that Vincent's eyes were piercing through her and were condemning her for not being completely honest. She could sense his concern and his love, but she refused to let him get involved in this case. She absolutely wouldn't.
"Diana," Vincent began. "Are you sure there is nothing I…"
"The answer is no! It's too risky, and we're handling it. You can't help me. Besides, babe, how many times have I told you that I know how to handle myself out there? I work best alone."
Vincent shook his head. "Many times I have helped Catherine in her work. I sense for you this case is different and I am….concerned for you."
Diana could sense the depth of feeling Vincent attached to that word. He had never identified his feelings for her, but her empathic sense tingled with feelings of love, concern, and chagrin.
Chagrin? She reflected, puzzled. Then she understood: of course. She had always presented a strong front to Vincent, emphasizing her independence, her refusal to call him into her casework. And he had respected that strong front. For Vincent to consider discussing this concern with her was a violation of his own self-imposed standards.
A strong desire to open up completely with him rose within her, but she brutally crushed it. His involvement could put Alex at risk, could put himself at risk. Most of all, she wanted to nail the Angel alone and she needed all her faculties to concentrate on the hunt without worrying about Vincent.
"Babe, I appreciate your concern. But you know how I work. I work alone – without distraction. This man has got to be stopped before he hurts more people."
"Diana, I sense this case is ….. Personal for you. I am concerned you will take risks."
"Vincent, some cases are a bit more personal than others. I know where to draw the line, know how to control myself. The risk is only increased by involving anybody else."
Vincent looked as if he wanted to say more, but the firm, decided air about Diana appeared to convince him and he let the issue drop. And when Diana insisted he cut his visit short because she had a lot of work to do, he made no objection. After he'd gone, Diana sat down inwardly shaking. It had taken all her control to keep Vincent from sensing more of her pain, concern and grief over Susan and Alex as well as her rage to see the Angel apprehended and Alex rescued.
She had to get that creep, she swore to herself – and she had to move quickly. No telling what he might do to Alex, how his twisted mind would attempt to 'cleanse' her. Diana longed desperately for someone to talk to about the case, but all doors were closed: Joe by taking her off the case and Vincent because she wouldn't risk him.
She'd been in situations like this before, if not so intensely personal: she knew what to do.
For Vincent, the days following his visit to Diana's loft were filled with growing unease and dark premonitions. He felt cut off from her to a degree he had never experienced before and what he could sense alarmed him even more. He felt a cold hardness which reminded him of killing steel. It touched a chord within him, unleashing visions of rage, violence, and the kill.
On the third night, he had a particularly vivid dream where he had seen the Other, observing him closing on a fleeing figure. He felt strange in this dream, however. He was an observer rather than a participant, watching in fixed fascination as the Other cornered his victim and raised his hand in the killing stroke. Then he saw the Other's face: Diana's.
Bolting upright, he knew it had been a dream. But he could ignore the vision no longer. His unease about her told him something was wrong, something she'd kept secret. Something that was turning her into her counterpart of the Other.
On his way to her rooftop, Vincent reviewed the resolution he had made. He had to see her, talk with her, and convince her to share her case or her feelings with him. And he wouldn't leave until she'd done so.
Glancing down through one of her clerestory windows, he found the loft in darkness. Quietly trying the window Diana usually kept open, he was surprised and alarmed to find it locked. He then stretched his senses to capture any sense of her presence. What he could feel was faint. Diana hadn't been there for some time – perhaps even days.
He considered breaking in. Would Diana leave any hint, any clue to where she might be? He shook his head – she was too thorough on her cases to slip up in this manner.
After further reflection, he shook his head sadly and began the long trek back to his chamber, knowing his sense of worry had just increased.
Lying on his bed a half hour later, Vincent could not silence his racing thoughts. Something about their last conversation, something she had said was on the fringes of his mind. It seemed elusive, like grasping a fog.
He began replaying their conversation in his mind. He had questioned her about her anger and grief. She had responded by saying it was only a friend. Except – that was it! It was more than a friend. The attack victim was someone close to her, very close. He had sensed her hesitation and something more when she'd spoken. Reviewing his impressions, he realized she'd been acutely worried and frightened. This from a person who had confided in him only two weeks earlier that she was close to no one from the world Above except her sister.
Her sister! Everything was now falling into place. Her sister must have been the attack victim. Yet for Diana, the situation hadn't ended with the attack. There was something else.
In the light of his new insight, his premonitions and dreams about Diana took on a greater urgency. She was hunting the perpetrator of these crimes – seeking revenge. That was the difference in Diana for this case: the hunt had become personal.
It was then that Vincent cursed again his being restricted to the world Below. He could not easily search for Diana Above and he didn't know where to begin even if he had been able.
An idea began to form in his mind, an idea of such risk and so radical that he realized then how important Diana had become to him. After much thought and reflection, he decided to risk sharing his thoughts with Father.
Father was uncharacteristically silent as Vincent completed his tale. He then formed a pyramid with his fingers and began idly tapping them together as the minutes stretched on. Then, just as Vincent felt he could wait no longer, he spoke.
"Vincent, many times I have tried to forbid your forays into the world Above and risks you have taken for Catherine and others. My efforts were born of a desire to protect you, to preserve you from those who would harm you or destroy this world, our home." Vincent moved as if to speak, but Father raised a hand to stop him. "Please let me continue. You are no longer a child nor the innocent idealistic young man you once were. Reality has bruised you and you are now more aware of the dangers Above for you than I could ever be. I must learn to let you go, to lift my restraining hand. I cannot tell you if this plan is wise. Diana is an extraordinary woman to whom we, and I, owe much. Do what you think is best and know I will support you."
Vincent rose, embraced his father warmly and then was gone so quickly he didn't hear Father's final words" "Be careful, my son, and Godspeed."
The black of night was fading into the pink tones of dawn as Joe looked out of his apartment window to the familiar yet changing landscape of the city he loved. His eyes, however, were not regarding the streets below but instead were focused on an image of a red-haired woman.
Joe was worried about Diana.
He had castigated himself for being too harsh with her at the hospital, considering all she'd just suffered – the shock of seeing her sister an assault victim. Of course she'd be concerned and angry with the animal who had done it.
Yet he'd had to remind her of the law, warn her about crossing the line. That plus his professional judgment told him Diana could bend the rules if she believed what she was doing was right. He felt instinctively this was such a time.
Still she had complied with his request to turn over all her files on the Angel of Death. In record time too, he admitted. Yet it wasn't like her to submit so easily, so quickly. He had expected stalling, arguing, pleading to stay on the case.
Then she had disappeared into thin air.
He was certain she hadn't been at the hospital or near her loft in the last few days. The black and whites and the undercover officers he'd assigned after her first day's absence had come up completely dry. Not wanting to hang around her loft, he could understand: there was nothing he'd hated more when he'd been suspended during the Chandler investigation than the seemingly endless hours cooped up in his apartment, knowing a good friend was in danger but knowing his own hands were tied. That his suspension had been due to a crooked boss was little comfort even now.
But Diana hadn't even visited the hospital to see her sister. To Joe, a strong family man, this was a violation of every principle he believed in and he felt, somehow, of Diana's principles as well. If only…
His musings were interrupted by a tapping on his balcony door. Startled, he turned to the door and was further surprised to see an envelope stuck in the door frame with his name written on it in a fine distinctive hand. When he opened the balcony door, picked up the envelope and examined it closely, he felt a sudden chill of recognition. He's seen this handwriting before in a book of poems in Cathy's apartment. Vincent!
Tearing the envelope open, Joe devoured the contents of the small note within:
If you seek to find answers to Catherine, I can supply them. I need your help, in return, concerning a mutual friend.
Vincent
As Joe yanked open the balcony door, something he's once said echoed in his mind" "Up seventeen flights of stairs with no witnesses." He scanned the balcony. By the lights shining from his apartment, it looked empty; but he felt he wasn't alone.
"Vincent?"
Only silence replied, but Joe couldn't shake off his feeling that Vincent was here.
"Vincent, it's me, Joe Maxwell. If you loved Cathy as much as I think you did, you'll know you've got nothing to fear from me."
Again silence. Then a sound, the sound of breathing followed by a voice which sent a shiver up Joe's back. "Good evening, Joe. Catherine always spoke well of you."
By now Joe could see a shadowy, hooded figure on the edge of his balcony.
A storm of thoughts rushed through Joe's mind. Vincent was here. The last pieces of the puzzle could finally be filled in on a case which had affected Joe more than any other. Yet he was filled with apprehension which he could not dismiss.
A sudden hunch flooded Joe's mind. "Vincent," he began. "Your note mentioned a mutual friend. Would that be Diana Bennett?"
Despite the shadows, Joe thought he could see Vincent stiffen at Diana's name. Of course, Joe thought: Diana had become involved with Vincent, too. That would explain why she had suddenly clammed up about him, about the same time Joe had met Jacob Wells. But why had both Cathy and Diana been so secretive about him?"
He tried to see Vincent more plainly, but the dark and the drawn-up hood gave him barely more than an outline. Then he heard that voice again.
"Yes!"
It took Joe a moment to return to what Vincent had said and realize it was a confirmation: he did know Diana. "Do you know where Bennett is? I have to see her."
Vincent shook his head. "I'm…concerned. I have not seen her for three days myself, and our parting was not on the best of terms."
Joe noticed the stress on the word concerned and felt he understood. Vincent had feelings for Diana. He asked, "Why did you come to see me?"
"I need your help….to find Diana. And thus I am prepared to make a trade for information. For days, I have felt there is something wrong, something looming over her. I felt you could help."
Joe felt the strong similarity between Vincent's voiced concerns and his own thoughts only moments earlier. "Why come to me? I don't know where she is any more than you do."
"Perhaps a sharing of information may help us both find her."
"Both?" repeated Joe, startled, "How did you know I've been looking for her?"
"It's one of my talents – that I can sense what you're feeling," Vincent replied in a low voice, seeming uncomfortable about the subject.
"Like you could tell how Cathy was feeling, when she was in danger?" At Vincent's sharp intake of breath, Joe nodded. "You see, Vincent, there's a lot about you already. Why didn't you come to me sooner?"
The hooded figure glanced at the growing pink tinge at the eastern horizon, then back at Joe. "I had my reasons. I would like to explain further, but…."
His comments were interrupted by a sudden movement from Joe, who crossed the distance between them and, reaching up, pushed back Vincent's hood. A growl escaped and fangs were bared as Joe involuntarily stepped back.
"Jeez!" Joe said as he took in Vincent's leonine features. His words fell silent as brown eyes stared into clear blue eyes for what seemed an eternity. Then Joe chuckled.
"No wonder Cathy never introduced you anywhere," he commented lightly. "How long have you been like this?"
"All my life," Vincent replied after a pause of several seconds. "You are not frightened?"
Joe considered his next words carefully. "Well, you did startle me at first. But it makes sense in some weird way – I mean anyone who can climb to Cathy's balcony, and now mine, can't be all that ordinary. I somehow expected you to be different, some way or another – given the way Cathy and Diana said nothing about you, protected your identity."
Vincent seemed to be reassured by Joe's lack of alarm. "I think now would be a good time to answer all your questions."
Joe clapped his arms together in a gesture to warm himself. "Great. But can we do this inside? I don't know about you, but I'm freezing out here."
Vincent nodded and followed Joe into his apartment.
An hour and many cups of coffee and tea later, Joe rubbed his eyes. "So that's where Jacob Wells fits in with Gabriel's case," he said. "It all makes sense."
Vincent set his cup aside. "Joe, there will be time later to answer any further questions you have. Right now, I'm concerned about Diana."
"Jeez, you're right. Diana!" Joe hesitated as he struggled with how much information to share with Vincent, but it lasted only a moment. After all, he reasoned to himself, Cathy must have shared confidential information many times with Vincent with no apparent breach of security.
He quickly summarized the events of the Angel killings case and the events leading to his removal of Diana from the case. He listened to himself speaking so openly with Vincent and realized Vincent's appearance had lost any hint of strangeness to him.
As he finished, Joe got up and walked over to his balcony door. "I don't know if I was wise to take her off the case, Vincent. It was just a professional hunch on my part. But then she disappeared."
"Your hunch was truer than you knew, Joe. Diana is in grave danger."
"Danger? What kind of danger?" Joe's body stiffened as he instinctively tensed, ready for action.
"She is in danger of losing herself, of crossing the line."
"How do you know?"
"I can feel what she feels and I can sense a coldness, a rage settling upon her. She is a weapon poised for the kill."
"Are you saying that you have the same connection, this bond, that you had with Cathy?"
"Yes and no. It is not the same….Diana has the same gift that I have, the gift of empathy. I can feel her sinking into the rage, the coldness – and what you have told me puts a name to my fears, my dreams. There's not much time."
Joe paced up and down the living room. "What can we do? What can you do?" he said, turning again to Vincent.
Vincent stared blankly at the window which showed the rays of the rising sun. "I need information on the Angel, about where to find him. Where he is, there Diana will be as well."
"Vincent, I've already given you all we have on the Angel." Just then the phone rang and Joe picked up the receiver on the second ring. By the time he hung up, several minutes later, his face was grim. "That was the duty desk. Sue is conscious and has given us a description of the Angel. We're trying to get a make on who he is and where he can be found now." Then he reported the worse news: "Sue says the Angel must have her daughter, Alexandra. Jeez, Vincent! Why didn't Diana tell me? Alex is only five years old!" Joe absently scowled out the window at the lightening sky for several minutes. Then he turned again to Vincent. "As soon as we have a positive ID, you'll get it. Just go in and make sure Diana and Alex are all right. If you can, try to stop Diana before it's too late. You're welcome to stay here until night, if you want. And…your secret is safe with me."
Vincent nodded his head in acceptance. "I understand now why Catherine said you had a good heart. I only wish I had come to you sooner."
Joe shook his head in an effort to clear the sudden moisture which had filled his eyes. "Since you're going to be here for a while, want some cheese bagels?"
Diana shivered as the cool evening breeze cut through her windbreaker. She should have grabbed her sweater before she had left her loft. But it was too late now. No doubt Maxwell had her loft staked out. He was too much of a professional not to, once she had disappeared.
It was her third night away from the loft's familiar surroundings and her first on this West Side building roof. She had cast about for days chasing every lead, every hint, every hunch, before focusing on the seedy apartment building across the street. She still wasn't certain the Angel was there, but it hunched out as right.
Diana felt lightheaded and rubbed away grains of fatigue from her eyes. Her hair hung loose and dirty, but she ignored that and the hunger pangs of her empty stomach. She'd learned to shut off her body's feelings before when she was on a case and this was no different. Not that way, anyhow….
Harder than ignoring hunger was ignoring her guilt over not looking in on Susan. Her sister could be dead, or conscious and worried about where she was. But Diana reassured herself by thinking Sue's first concern would be for Alex. That was why she was here – to get Alex away from the Angel at any cost. And if she iced him at the same time, that would be her good deed for the day.
The sun was just setting as she looked again at the apartment building. He's there, she told herself. I can sense it. And Angel, when I find you, you'll pay. You'll pay, she swore to herself with all the force of a vow before a judge.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a nondescript man in blue jeans and a pullover approaching the apartment building. He had an average face and his appearance marked him as no different than any other of the neighborhood residents. Yet Diana felt certain this was her man.
He shuffled up the stairs and opened the building's outer door. For a moment, Diana doubted her hunch this was the Angel – it was hard to relate this nondescript man to the person capable of beating several women to death. But she remembered prior cases where the obvious conclusion had been the wrong one and decided to trust her hunch – it was rarely wrong.
Then she sensed the man's thoughts and knew she was right.
The Master is angry. I have failed him – the woman I sought to purify for Him remains unclean. I followed all the steps the Master had told me. But I failed and the voices remain.
What to do, to still them?
The young one might still be turned, redirected. There is still hope for her. Perhaps I can give her to the Master, offer her as a pure virgin. Perhaps the Master will be pleased and grant me a short release from the voices, from the pain.
The torrent of the Angel's thoughts almost overwhelmed Diana. His pain, confusion, his overwhelming desire to please the Master hit her so hard she had to take hold of herself with brutal force. She tried to sort through the conflicting images, but one thought came through clearly: Alex was alive, but he intended to offer her as a sacrifice to make amends for his failure with Susan.
But where did he have her? In which apartment? Time was of the essence now and one wrong move would mean Alex's death. Diana wouldn't get more than one chance.
She struggled with her anger to rush in and kill the Angel immediately. She had to be sure Alex was safe before she settled accounts with the man who had touched those closest to her.
Abruptly she sensed a cry of fright from one of the rear apartments. It took her only a second to confirm its source – Alex. The Angel was beginning.
Diana was in motion even as she tried to confirm the location of the Angel's apartment. She raced down the fire escape, jumping the last few feet. Her gun was out before she dashed into the building.
Her sense of Alex's distress, fear now mixed with pain, led her unerringly down to the basement level. Halting before a faded apartment door, she hesitated to gather her strength, then raising her leg, kicked the door open, yelling, "Freeze, police!"
Bringing her gun around the moment she was clear of the door, she fired at the man in the living room. Her shot took him in the arm and knocked him backwards, disclosing a white-robed Alex bound to a chair with blood already welling from a number of cuts on her arm. The Angel fell to the floor, cowering at the sight of Diana. Past him, Diana's image, reflected by a door-sized mirror, raised the gun again to complete the job.
Suddenly a tall, booted figure crashed through the basement window. Somehow, Vincent had found her and now had placed himself between her and the still-cowering Angel.
"Get out of the way, Vincent!" Diana said in a low threatening voice. Vincent felt himself taken aback by her appearance and the feelings emanating from her. Her lean, cold face combined in his mind with her cold killing rage to form the impression of a single-minded weapon poised to strike.
"You must not, Diana," he said gently, but firmly.
"Get out of my way, Vincent," she repeated. "He deserves what he's going to get! And neither you nor anyone else will stop me."
For Diana, killing was not an act conceived and performed in the heat of passion, Vincent realized, but a cold calculating decision. It was so different from why he killed.
"And when I am dead?"
"Who mentioned anything about killing you? This has nothing to do with you at all. All I'm saying is don't interfere. He has touched me and mine and deserves to pay."
Perhaps not all that different, he thought to himself. She protects those close to her with the same single-mindedness as I.
"Diana, listen to yourself," he continued in a low calming voice. "The slope of the road you have embarked on is slippery, dark and dangerous – and once you have started, there is no turning back. You can succeed in killing this man who did your sister harm, but know this – your action will kill me as surely as if you had fired at me with your gun."
He could sense her mind hesitating on his words, checking the force of her chill rage. Now it was time for his killing stroke: "For I love you, Diana, and cannot accept this thing that you would do to yourself."
Her resolve began to crumble as the impact of his words sank in. Her body shook uncontrollably, the gun in her hand wavering dangerously. "Help me, Vincent. I don't know if I can stop myself. The hate, the hate!"
The gun in her hand steadied and rose again, only to be met by Vincent's hand on hers. He took the gun from her unfeeling fingers and enveloped her in his arms. Embraced in a circle of warmth and security, Diana sank into his warm acceptance and allowed the rage to die even as she saw another familiar figure handcuff the Angel and then reach down to pick up Alex.
"Maxwell?"
There was a hint of moisture in Joe's eyes as he watched Vincent and Diana. "It's okay, Bennett. Take a few days off. And Vincent, get out of here before the black and whites arrive."
She felt no alarm from Vincent at Joe's words. "Joe, for all you have done, you have my thanks. When all is well, I will see you again." Then he strode quickly out of the apartment, one arm around Diana and the other pulling his hood up into place.
Diana's memory of the following hours were vague recollections of crying mixed with periods of depression and quiet, the one constant Vincent's strong, calming presence. Finally, a sense of emotional release filling her, she looked at her furry friend. "You and Maxwell are working together?"
"Love forces people to do hitherto unthinkable things, Diana. Even face another's beast."
She was quiet so long that he thought she'd fallen asleep. Then she said, "Didn't know I had it in me. Guess I shouldn't lecture you ever again on the Other."
"Perhaps we can introduce them to each other. After all, I believe we'll be together for a long time to come."
"And Maxwell?"
"Another time, another story. By the way, Diana, would you be interested in trying a new dish I learned about in the world Above?"
"What kind of dish?"
"Cheese bagels."
Fin
A/N: Of course, within the following year, a raven haired young nine year old wizard will magically apparate into New York City and begin the process of joining this world Below, thus beginning to change things for our Huntress and our Beast.