Chapter the Eighth
In which a Vision is had and a Conversation takes place
Damien sat bolt upright in bed. Delia had been screaming for him, but as he sat, there was now only silence. But something was wrong, even the dog could could feel it as he sat at the door nudging the doorknob with this massive head. Then, Damien could feel feel stark and potent terror from his daughter and realized that she must have had a nightmare and called for him in her head.
He made his way from his room to Delia's and no sooner did he open her door, then her dog fell out into the hall. He began whining and lead Damien into the room and Milo jumped up onto the bed and lay beside Delia, who was sitting up, licking her hand. The dog had not barked and Damien wondered if she had ordered him to keep silent.
At some point during the night, Alexander had ended up in his sister's room and was now a familiar lump under the covers, perhaps answering the question as to why she had not called a loud for her father. Damien didn't need much light by which to see and as he came over to the bed, he could tell that she was shaking and crying.
"Delia?"
But it was as if she could not hear him. Damien bent down so that he was eye level with her and reached out and touched her. "It's okay, I'm here," she turned her head towards him he nodded to indicate that she was not imagining him.
"Daddy?" Her voice quaked and even before Damien could acknowledge that yes, he was here, she burst into tears. Loud, heavy sobs racked her body and she threw her arms around him.
If Delia choosing to remain quiet had been a decision made in order to not wake up Alexander, the mission had now failed as her crying roused her brother, who sat up and moved closer to his sister.
"What's wrong with Delia?"
"She's fine, she's just had a bad dream; but I'm here and everything's okay."
"I'm here, too," Alexander looked up at his father, letting him know that he could be counted on for whatever his sister might need.
"Thank-you, she'll appreciate that," he smiled at Alexander, who was holding his sister's foot since her arms were wrapped around her father's neck.
While Damien could feel panic, terror, and grief, he needed to find out exactly what was troubling her. He had never taken lightly invading his children's privacy. He wanted to set a precedent and show Delia and Alexander that the family boundaries were to be respected, not to mention that at the age of nine, any sudden intrusion on his part would raise questions as to how he was doing what he was doing. However, Delia was upset, more so than he could remember in a long time, and he needed to find out what had caused her this much grief. He gently let his mind search hers and he flinched as he found the source of her distress.
Images flashed in Delia's mind. It was rare to have such clarity so long after the event, usually by now there would be only feelings for Damien to work with, but not now, for inside his daughter's mind swirled images of Kate, DeCarlo, Peter, and weaving a path of destruction throughout the tableau was a thick, black ribbon representing the nazarene.
Her nightmare had been his near death at the Fountains Abbey nearly ten years ago. But nightmare was the wrong word...vision more aptly described what he could both see and feel, for Damien could feel their oppression. For fear of further scaring Delia, he was tempted to disengaged himself from her, but instead, with great control on his part, he felt calmly at her. As he held his daughter, the images began to evaporate, but the presence of the nazarene hung on the longest. He sent his strength to her and eventually even the black ribbon disappeared.
Delia had stopped crying and she drew in a ragged breath and loudly exhaled. Damien reached over and pulled tissues from the box on her bedside table and got her to blow her nose. She rested her head against him and after a few more labored breaths, she was fine and Damien could feel her tiredness. He let go of her and stood up, but as she looked up at him, he could feel fear beginning to worm its way back into her as she sat and struggled to control herself, but exhaustion and the late hour were winning against Delia's attempts to keep her fear at bay.
"Do you want to come sleep with me?" She nodded and Damien could feel relief and renewed exhaustion sweep through her as she began to get sleepy again. He held out his hand and she took it and then realized that Alexander was hanging on to Delia's hand; wherever his sister was going, he was going too. "Okay, it's everybody in Damien's bed."
However, the statement did not lead to the usual riot of clambering onto their father's king-size bed. Instead, a solemn train of tired children accompanied their father back to his bedroom, including Delia's dog, who sat keeping an eye on the goings on. Damien sent his dog out into the hall, one Milo in the room was plenty, and Delia got into bed first and lay in the middle between her brother and her father.
Alexander looked down at her, "Goodnight, Deedledork."
Despite the terror that had roused Delia, Alexander had as usual managed to elicit a good mood from her. She smiled at Xander and teasingly stuck her tongue at him and apparently satisfied with his sister's change of mood, he lay down, pulled the covers up over his head and fell asleep.
Damien put his arm around her and she curled up next to him and again he gently felt calmness inside of her head and he watched as her face went slack and she was asleep. Delia's dog yawned, relaxed and joined his mistress in slumber.
The incident involving Delia and Alexander trying to get into the chapel had been the beginnings of his daughter realizing that there were differences between her and her family and everyone else; this was especially true after what she had done to Benjamin Patterson two years ago, about which Delia still hadn't press him too hard. She mainly asked why she felt different from others and why being around Damien and Alexander felt different than being around other people.
At first, he had been able to explain it by telling her she felt different because all of them were exceptionally smart, and it had worked, but recently, for some reason, that excuse was no longer holding water with her and when Damien would tell her that she felt different because she was gifted, he was met with looks of suspicion and her patented frown.
Damien watched his daughter sleep and suddenly he could feel his Father and knew that he had been right...the dream was no dream, but had been a vision sent to his daughter. Delia had been able to ignore it in the past, but not tonight as Satan had insured that she would no longer be able to keep it to herself, even if it was only having her scream for her father.
Damien had hoped that this moment was still a few years away, after all, he had only begun to feel differently when he had been twelve and his understanding about his true nature had come after help from Paul Buher and Daniel Neff. Delia was only nine and so much of what he had to tell her was disturbing and he didn't know what he would do if she ran away from him, from Alexander, from Satan and from herself. Then there was Mark, but Damien pushed that idea away…that was too much to think about right now.
He had been tired, but now he knew there would be little, if any, sleep tonight. He would keep Delia home from school today and the two of them would have a talk and Damien would try, as best he could, to explain to his nine-year-old that she was the daughter of the Antichrist, Satan's grandchild, a jackal and, in fact, not a human being at all.
-oOo-
Damien had fallen asleep just before five in the morning and his eyelids felt glued together as he reached over and shut off the alarm. He rolled over and there was Alexander staring down at his sister. He looked up at his father and smiled.
"Morning pater, is Delia okay now?"
"Good morning and yes, she's fine, but your sister is going to stay home from school today with me."
"May I stay home as well?" He raised a hopeful eyebrow at his father.
"No, because you're going to bring home Delia's work so she can do it tonight."
"Okay," Alexander didn't bother hiding his disappointment as he got out of bed and went into his room to get ready for school.
Damien took a shower and dressed in the bathroom and when he came out, Delia was still sleeping. Her dog looked up at him and once given permission, he jumped up on the bed and curled up next to Delia.
Now dressed, Alexander came back to Damien's room and the two of them headed downstairs for breakfast and he took his usual seat to the left of his father. Cecile set a plate in front of Alexander and he began to devour the contents. Damien would wait to eat with Delia.
"I know that when I'm home, I usually take you to school, but Tom will drive you this morning."
Alexander shrugged. "It's okay, Delia doesn't want to be alone so I'll let it go, but don't let it happen again," he pretended to glare menacingly at Damien.
"What a generous son I have."
"Yep, that's me, generous to a fault," Alexander continued eating, taking seconds of everything once he was done his first plate of food.
Eventually, Alexander was finished and said goodbye to Cecile. The school the children attended provided their students with snacks and a lunch and before Damien had sent them to Briarwood Academy, he had made sure that the food was good enough to be given to his children, a fact that he had had to share with Cecile before she had stopped insisting that Delia and Alexander bring food from home.
Damien lead his son outside to Tom, who opened the back door of the car for him.
"Will you please tell Deedle that I love her and that I want her to feel better?" Alexander could be counted on to have a smart ass comment for nearly any occasion, but where the well-being of his family was concerned, he was willing to stow the funny guy routine for a few minutes.
Damien bent down so that he was eye level with his son, "Of course, and you have a good day at school. I will call and tell them Delia won't be coming in today and that her very thoughtful brother will be getting her homework so she can do it here." Damien hugged and kissed his son, "I love you."
"Right back at ya, D-man," Alexander winked at Damien and made a gun with his right hand and fired it at his father, pretending he was too cool for all this touchy feely nonsense. Alexander got into the back seat and did up his seat belt. After Tom made sure that he was properly buckled up, he closed the door, got behind the wheel and began to drive away and moments later, the car disappeared out of the gates of the Thorn estate.
Damien wanted privacy for him and Delia. Luckily, today was not one of the days for the cleaners or anyone else to come, so once back inside, he headed for the kitchen.
"Cecile, you can have the rest of the day off. Delia isn't feeling well, so I'll stay home and take care of her."
"Mr. Thorn, are you sure? I don't mind staying...what about dinner?"
"The children and I will go out to eat, or have something delivered if Delia still isn't well. Besides, it'll give me an excuse to take a day off of work."
"Okay," she went to the closet to get her coat, and Damien helped her on with it and saw her to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow morning then. S'il vous plaît dites Sweet-pea à se sentir mieux bientôt."
"Bien sûr, au revoir, Cécile," he closed and locked the door behind her. Father and daughter would now have the house to themselves.
Damien went into the study and called the school and informed them of Delia's absence, a first for one of the Thorn children, and then called work and spoke to Thomas and told him to handle things for today, but to call if there was some kind of an emergency. Damien went back upstairs to his room, grabbed a book and sat down on a chair and read, every once and a while casting his eyes over to the bed.
Delia began to stir and at eight-thirty she sat up, her dog jumping down from the bed when Damien came over to sit beside his daughter.
"How are you this morning, Junior?"
"Okay...did Alexander go to school without me?" Delia frowned.
"Yes, you are staying home with me today. Both he and Cecile wish you a speedy recovery and your brother also sends his love."
"But I feel fine now."
"I know, but we need to talk about some things and what I have to say requires privacy, but that can wait, for right now, let's go have breakfast," the two of them headed downstairs with Delia's dog trailing behind them.
However, once they got to the kitchen, she looked around, a confused expression on her face. "Papá, ¿dónde está Cecile?"
"Cecile no está aquí, así que es sólo tú y yo hoy."
"Really!?" She grinned from ear to ear, happy that it was just going to be the two of them.
"Deedle, you make it sound as if we never spend any time together."
"Well, you, me and Alexander spend time together, but not just you and me, or not just you and Alexander."
"Really?"
Now it was Damien's turn to sound surprised. He made sure to spend time with both of his children, but with so much of his day being take up by work, it was hard to be with them individually. However, if everything with Delia went the way that he wanted, he would be spending much more time with her. "Well, hopefully this will be the first of many quality father/daughter bonding days. Go wash your hands, please, so we can eat; I'm starving."
Delia went to the bathroom and when she returned, Damien was putting her plate on the table. She disliked most breakfast food, so her plate contained generous amounts of bacon, toast and fruit salad and he had added a small container of strawberry yogurt.
As she ate, her occasionally hand disappeared under the table giving pieces of bacon to her dog and once she was done, she brought her plate to the kitchen, rinsed it and put it in the dishwasher. "I'm going to do take a shower and get dressed."
"Okay, but when you come back down, we are going to have a talk about last night and about some other things, yes?"
"Yes," and Delia took off running up the stairs.
"I'll be in the study," Damien called up to her and all three dogs followed him into the room. He cleared off his desk and sat on the leather couch and waited for Delia to come back down. Each passing moment made his anxiety grow, but he stuffed it back down. She could feel what he felt and being anxious wasn't going to help him with anything that had to be discussed.
Once she made it back downstairs, she cartwheeled into the study, "Ta-da!"
Damien applauded and came to the door, "The American judge gives it a perfect score, but the judge from Russia only gives it a six."
"Damn that Russian judge, now I'll never get to the Olympics," years of socializing with her brother had given her a sense of humor she might have otherwise not had.
"We can talk in here, or in my room or yours."
"In here, please, father, this is where you talk about important business."
"In here it is."
Delia went to sit in the chair across from his desk, but Damien grabbed her and sat in the chair instead, "If you want, you can sit in that chair."
She gleefully grinned at her father, sat behind Damien's desk, and did what any reasonable child would have done: spun around in the chair, but she stopped and looked at him, "You're so far away," Delia got up and came back over to Damien, who got up, picked her up and sat her on the desk.
Damien picked up the chair and moved it closer to her, "Better?"
"Yes," Delia sat cross-legged on her father's desk.
"I am going to ask you something and I want the truth. Have you woken up like how you woke up last night, only I didn't come to see if you were okay?"
She nodded.
"You didn't want to bother me, or wake up Alexander; am I correct in assuming that?"
She nodded again.
"Delia, when you are that scared, to wake me up is not bothering me. If that happens again and your brother is sleeping with you and you don't want to wake him up, you can come to my room. What happened last night? That will never happen again, okay?"
She nodded for the third time.
"Okay, do you remember calling for me a loud last night?"
"No," she paused. "How did you know to come into my room?"
"You know how you say that you feel different from other people. That when you look at me or Alexander, you feel something different than went you look at other people?"
"Yes."
Damien was beginning to monitor Delia's emotional state, "And I tell you that it's because you're very smart?"
"Yes, but that's not the reason, is it?"
"No."
"I'm not like other girls am I?"
"No, Deedle, you're not," Damien could feel relief, as if the whole time she had thought that there was something wrong with her. "Before we go on, I know that sometimes I tell you something and tell you not to tell your brother, but you go ahead and tell him anyway. This time I am being serious; you cannot tell Alexander about our conversation."
"Why?"
"You're both very smart, but you understand things that he doesn't, not yet, anyway. Alexander hasn't come to me and told me that he feels different from other people. I've tried to ask him, but he doesn't get it, he's not ready to hear what I have to say to you, but know that what applies to you, applies to him: he's not like other boys."
"If I promise not to tell Alexander, will you tell me the truth?"
"As much as I can, there are some things that you are too young to know, or that I just can't tell you yet, but I will tell you what I can and do so in a way that you can understand, okay?"
"Then we have to shake on it," Delia got down off the desk and stood in front of Damien and then held up her right hand. "I promise that I will never, ever tell Alexander what you tell me until you say that it's okay to tell him," she spat into her hand, but left it turned up so that the spit didn't run out onto the floor. "Now, it's your turn."
Damien got up, "I promise to tell Delia the truth, as much as I can, and in a way that she'll understand," he looked at her and she nodded. Damien spat into his hand and they clamped hands like old business partners who had worked out a fine arrangement and one big pump between the two of them had sealed the deal.
Delia removed her hand and wiped it on her pants. Damien said nothing, as it appeared to be a part of the ritual, no doubt performed dozens of times between her and Alexander. He reached over onto the desk and pulled a tissue from the box, wiped the spit off his hand and sat back down again.
Delia got back up on the desk, sat, and waited for her father to continue.
"Tell me about what woke you up last night."
"I had a nightmare about two bad people and one I don't know."
"And you've had this dream before?"
"Yes."
"When did it start?"
Delia thought about it, "Less than a year, maybe nine months ago."
Damien did not bother mentioning that she should have come to him sooner; he was sure he had driven home that message that she was not keep things like that to herself anymore. "Describe the people."
"One man was a priest, the other was a woman, oh, and there was a boy."
"And the other?"
"I don't know, not a person, like a...ghost, but it wanted to hurt you, too. But it wasn't like a normal dream. I was watching you and you were in a church."
"Describe the presence."
"It made me feel sick, like I wanted to throw up. I felt like something was squishing me. I didn't like it, whatever it was, it felt bad."
Rage moved through Damien, but he quickly stamped it out. Delia would not understand the sudden burst of anger and he didn't want her to think that he was mad at her. They had tried to kill Damien, but now their vileness had touched one of his children, "Tell me what you saw."
She closed her eyes, "You go into the church…the priest is hiding…the woman walks past him. Then you come down the stairs. The priest comes out, he's going to stab you, but you take the boy and push him onto the knife. You start to choke the priest, but then you walk away from him. The woman goes to the boy, and holds him and then looks back at you, picks up the knife and moves towards you, she's going to sneak up on you on your left. I think she's the boy's mother. Now, daddy, you stop…there's something wrong with you…and then…the presence is gone and you're fine. The woman keeps coming for you, but you sneak around back of her and then you choke her and tie her up. You come back and kill the priest and then you back, get the woman and leave." Delia opened her eyes.
"So what was it that upset you so much last night?" Damien pushed away the tendrils of fear that wanted to work their way into him. There were any number of things she had described that could have caused her to be so upset; the worst being that she had just seen her father murder a young boy not much older than Delia herself and if that was what had traumatized her, their conversation had already gone down hill.
But Delia had not been paying attention to what her father was feeling, for grief possessed her and she looked at her father with tears in her eyes. "Sometimes they kill you and that's what happened last night; the woman killed you," fat tears rolled down her cheeks. "Daddy, you died and when I woke up I was scared and I didn't want to call for you because what if you didn't come? That would mean that you had died for real." She began heavily sobbing, like she had last night.
Damien picked her up off the desk put her on his lap. He smoothed her hair and held her tightly to him, "I'm not dead, I'm right here."
Delia pulled away from him and looked at him, "You promised to tell me the truth."
"Yes."
"That really happened, didn't it? It's not just something that I made up in my own head. Those people tried to kill you, didn't they," she wiped the tears from her eyes with her arm and now anger filled Delia, who was incensed that someone, or in this case someones, had tried to kill her father.
"Yes."
And she hugged him, as if she could take away what those people had tried to do to him.
Damien felt her love for him and he smiled at her, but his smile quickly vanished, "Then, I need to ask you something. Yes, that happened and you saw it and I know how you saw it and today, you will come to understand why you had that dream, But, Delia, I killed that boy, I killed him so that I could live. I need to know how you feel about that."
"About what?"
"That I killed someone, and not just anyone, but I killed a boy who was not much older than you are right now."
Delia frowned at him, "You're not like them either and you did it to protect yourself. You'd be dead right now and Alexander and I wouldn't be here."
Damien didn't correct her just yet in regards to their conception.
"Father, do you remember Matthew's birthday party?"
"Yes, of course."
"When that stupid piece of crap Benjamin pushed Alexander and he hit his head and I saw his blood, I've never been that angry before, or since. I wanted to kill Benjamin," Delia paused, "I tried to, didn't I?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"We'll get to that eventually. Is there anything else?"
"When Alexander and I came back to you, Glen was trying to get Benjamin to apologize, I could feel you. I feel you sometimes, but Alexander mostly; when he's happy or sad, I feel happy or sad and the other way around. But that day, I could feel you. You were lying to Mr. Patterson, not exactly lying, but inside you were proud of me, happy that I had hurt Benjamin for hurting Alexander. Part of you wanted me to kill him, to teach Benjamin and his father a lesson about hurting your children. You saw Alexander's blood and you were furious too. If I had been alone with Benjamin and nobody else had been there, and I had killed him you wouldn't have cared. Do you want to know something?"
"What?"
"I didn't care then and I don't care now. I don't want anyone to hurt you, or me, or Alexander. I don't care that you killed somebody. Father, you killed that boy so that you could live. If anyone tried to kill any of us, I'd kill them, just like I tried to do with Benjamin. Does that make me bad?"
"No," he kissed the top of Delia's head.
"Father, we're different. Did those people try to kill you because you're different?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"This is the hard part, Delia, okay?"
And knowing now that she wasn't crazy for being able to feel what her father and brother felt, let herself feel what Damien was feeling, which was anxiety, worry, and fear, "It won't be difficult, daddy," Delia smiled at her father, who took Delia's hands.
"What do you know about god?"
"Jesus' father?"
"Yes."
"He's supposed to live in Heaven and Jesus is his son."
"And what do you know about Jesus?"
"We celebrate his birth at Christmas, but I like Christmas better because it's my and Alexander's birthday. But Jesus was born two thousand years ago. What does he have to do with what happened to you?"
"Would you believe me if I told you that the presence that you felt in the dream, that was Jesus?"
She looked at her father, "God is real?"
"Oh, very much so."
She left the Earth shattering revelation aside for a moment, "But Jesus is supposed to love everyone. Why would he want to hurt you?"
"Because I don't believe in the same god as he does."
"So Jesus came back?"
"No, he was only pretending to come back."
She made a face, "Jesus was only pretending? Why did he do that?" Delia was starting to get frustrated. None of this was making any sense to her and her father was being far too cryptic for her liking.
"So he could kill me."
"Why did Jesus want to kill you?"
Damien was quiet for a moment, "Delia, what do you know about the Devil?"
