Interlude
"Drink of me," he whispered. "And be one with the True Master." Whirling, shoving the priest away, Paul spun to face the congregation, to gain their help. Surely they must realise that the priest was insane? But gazing desperately among the faces, all Paul could see was a mass of rotted, withered bodies, slumped in pews. Bodies of men, women, children, some of them skeletal, some hideously bloody, all with hands raised, not in terror, but in horrific acceptance of their dark master. A congregation of the dead. In helpless horror, Paul returned his gaze to the priest, and in doing so, his eyes fell upon on the large crucifix position above the altar. Looking into the face of the Saviour for some kind of aid, Paul withheld a scream.
Blood was seeping from the wounds of Jesus Christ, from the wrists and ankles where the nails had pierced the flesh. The priest moved to face the cross, half kneeling in a cruel mockery of genuflection. As the disciple of darkness touched his fingers lightly to his forehead, the crucifix erupted in flame. Around Paul, the hitherto silent members of the congregation began chanting, chanting words which sounded Latin, which Paul half understood. With a howl of anguish the officer reached up to grasp the cross before fire could consume it. Holding the burning wood, heedless of the pain, Paul swung it in the direction of the priest. The chanting grew louder, louder, louder still. Desperate, Paul flung the crucifix at the altar, which the priest had been forced by the flames to vacate. The cloth was consumed almost instantly in fire, and the priest laughed insanely, amused at Paul's terror, delighted by his agony. Paul could only stare in disbelief as the fire began to spread, touching the pews, the congregation, who seemed to exult in it. Unafraid, the priest stepped sagely into the fire, his dark eyes reflecting it.
"Destroy us if you will, Paul. You alone can do that. But you don't truly want to. There is another way....all you have to is take my hand." So sure, so certain that Paul could be subverted, that he must choose the dark path.
"No. In the name of God and all that is holy I banish you from this world!"
"In the name of Satan," The priest replied quietly, "I banish you from yours." And the flame consumed him. Black ash lay before Paul, and that alone would serve as memorial for the evil which had existed in the parish at Kerentoth. Turning more slowly, Paul saw that the inhabitants of the village lay mewling and writhing in twisted agony as the fire ate at what remained of their tainted flesh. The fire began to eat into the wood, softly, almost gently, a force not of cruel destruction but of cleansing. Elvira, Paul thought sadly, as the flame consumed him, as well.
"We have no other option but to consider it." Seated at various positions in the large room, the other members of the San Francisco House stared at their precept in horrified disbelief.
"Possession." Nick repeated. He sounded dazed. Rachel sat up, and turned worried eyes on Derek.
"You're sure about this?"
"Not entirely. But it would seem to explain everything that has happened....would you rather believe that Philip would willingly attack his friend?" Heaving a sigh, Alex shook her head slowly. "Personally I have to agree with you. I can't see any other explanation, except for some serious psychological problem, I guess...."
"And that's out of the question." Rachel put in firmly. "That's my professional opinion, at least." Nick stood up abruptly, the only one not convinced.
"I can't accept that. If Philip was truly possessed, we'd be able to tell, right? I mean, come on, we've known him years! Do you honestly think that some spirit could fool us and make us think it was Philip?" No one answered; Rachel gazed at Nick sympathetically, Alex gazed down at the floor, and Derek stare resolutely out of the window. Nick stared around at them, shaking his head wonderingly.
"But how? And why?"
"That is what we must discover." Getting to his feet, Rayne headed for the door. "I'm going to speak to Philip now, alone. Rachel, I want you to go through his journal again, see if there's anything which may give us a clue to who or what is controlling Philip's body. Nick, find Kat and keep her amused until I'm done; Alex, I want you to run a check for me; get the computer to search for the name "Maria Kroftenstein."
"Why?" Alex was puzzled.
"I'll explain layer."
Philip Callaghan lay on his back, gazing up at the ceiling. His head ached severely, but his heart ached more. He could not remember exactly the events which had resulted in his being here, locked in Derek's quiet, still room, and was not sure that he wanted to. He was afraid.
Philip raised a hand to his head as the chanting began again; it had been there in his mind for days now, slowly getting stronger, as he inevitably weakened. He could feel that sound draining him of his will, of his faith, of his sanity, but nothing Philip could do seemed to have any effect on it. He whimpered softly as the noise became unbearable, biting his lips hard enough to draw blood, pressing his hands frantically to the sides of his head as the chanting ever increased, louder, louder, louder....
"STOP!" The priest shrieked, unable to stand the anguish any longer. "STOP, for the love of God, LEAVE ME BE!" Within him he could feel the chaos rise and the wind began to howl inside his tortured, agonised mind. Writhing on the bed, he moaned in horror as he felt the hideous twisted personality which lay inside begin to assert itself; he knew he must fight, but his strength was ebbing, slipping away into the dark, and as he threw his head back in a shriek of horrible release, the flame which had once burned so brightly in his soul flickered, and winked out.
Halfway up the stairs, Derek Rayne froze, hand on the banister, as he heard the bloodcurdling screams from above. Terror grasped his heart in its cold cruel fingers as he began to run, calling Philip's name. After what seemed to be an eternity he reached the bedroom, fumbled frantically at the lock and finally flung the door open; inside, his friend lay on the bed, moaning softly in hideous agony.
"Philip!" His worst fears confirmed, Derek lunged towards the bed. Around him the world seemed to ebb and change; as chaos held the priest in its maddening grip, that instability transferred to the outside, and the room was charged with madness. It was suddenly incredibly difficult to move; refusing to give his friend up without a fight, Derek struggled, inch by painful inch, the rest of the way across the room. The door slammed heavily behind him as, from another world, he heard the shouts of Alex, Nick and Rachel as they attempted to come to the rescue. From somewhere beyond all human experience a sound began, softly at first, then growing, growing, becoming deafening, tearing into his very soul....the sound of chanting.
With a superhuman effort Derek reached Philip. The priest was writhing, his eyes fixed sightlessly on the ceiling, as his head was snapped cruelly back and forth by an unseen hand.
"Philip!" But there was no reply. The priest was too far gone even to hear the Precept's pleading cry. Derek stared down at the crippled form helplessly.
"Philip, you must fight this! You cannot let this creature control you!" A howling, unearthly wind screamed from nowhere, the storm brewing almost instantaneously, drowning out Derek's desperate words. Still he continued, knowing that if Callaghan could not beat the demon wrestling for control of his body, then Rayne himself could not.
"You are stronger, Philip. It cannot defeat you. Now fight it!" For an instant, something flickered in the priest's eyes; he gazed wonderingly up at Derek, as without warning the storm thrust a gleaming golden sword deep into the Precept's heart. With an agonised cry, Derek reeled backwards, collapsing against the wall. Philip Callaghan released a piercing howl of anguish, falling back helplessly on the bed as the storm rage around him.
Then, as abruptly as it had began, the chaos ceased.
Derek Rayne looked up dazedly as a familiar voice addressed him.
"Are you all right?" As the mist cleared from before his eyes, Derek found himself gazing into the eyes of Philip Callaghan, as the priest knelt beside him on the cold, wooden floor.
"I....think so. Are you?" The other man nodded, smiling slightly. Derek rose shakily, realising abruptly that he had been mistaken. The tone had been wrong; there had been no concern, no warmth, in the eyes, merely a kind of detached, indifferent curiosity.
"Who are you?" The stranger turned, gazed at Derek with quiet amusement.
"My name" he said softly, "is Heinrich Tallander."
V
"So....this man, who claims to be called Tallander, also claims that he was a priest in the late nineteenth century. And he's not a threat?"
"I never said that, Rachel." Derek Rayne sat across from her, in the soft chair which she kept for patients. It was odd to be in such a position, she reflected. Quickly checking her watch, Corrigan communicated with an apologetic glance that the exchange would have to be concluded for now, at any rate.
"I understand. Come over when you're done and we'll discuss this further. I'd also like you to meet our....guest."
"You've got a deal." As Rayne got to his feet and headed for the door, Rachel stopped him with a concerned question.
"Derek....what have you actually done with Tallander?"
"Done?" Rayne was puzzled.
"Well....he's not free to roam, is he? I mean, we're not talking ball and chain here but I would have thought...."
"Your caution is admirable, Rachel. As a matter of fact Alex and Nick are keeping an eye on him constantly, but he's done nothing so far which would make us perceive him as actually dangerous....except possibly to Philip." Rachel heaved a faint sigh, nodded, and turned back to her desk as Derek left the room.
The man who looked like Philip Callaghan was sitting calmly on the couch, gazing out of the window at the far-reaching grounds of the Legacy house. Alex Moreau sat opposite him, watching him intently, while Nick Boyle pretended nonchalance, reading a paper, his sense constantly acute to the possibility of attack. He tensed as the priest raised his head.
"Mister Boyle, Miss Moreau, this continual guarding is indeed understandable but hardy necessary. I pose no threat to you."
"Then why have you done this to our friend?" Alex forestalled Nick's angry response by a more diplomatically phrased question.
"That's also what I would like to know." All three looked up at the sound of the Precept's voice. Derek stood leaning casually against the doorframe, eyeing Tallander thoughtfully. The priest - if indeed he was such - stared back at him, his eyes cold, unmoved. Derek smiled faintly, ran a hand lightly through his hair.
"So tell us, Father. What is it that made you invade the body and soul of a gentle man who never did anyone harm? A good man, who gave his life to help others? What made a creature like you wish to inhabit such a one as Philip Callaghan?" This last sentence was spat with such starting venom that Alex and Nick exchanged bemused looks. Throughout the tirade the interloper's eyes had never left Derek's face; now the indifference in them vanished, replaced by sudden shock, then rage, then vicious contempt.
"You cannot force me to answer your question, doctor Rayne." The words were sneering, almost amused, as though appreciate some poetic irony. Derek's smile grew wider.
"That, Father," he demurred, "remains to be seen."
Tallander was locked firmly in Philip's room while the others sat round a computer behind the holographic wall, watching as Alex's fingers danced rapidly across the keyboard. Barely thirty seconds passed before she announced triumphantly,
"Here it is." Derek, Nick and Rachel crowded closer to see.
"According to what I have here, "Alex continued, "Tallander was the priest in a small village in south Germany, called Kerentoth. This is strange." She tapped a few keys and frowned.
"What is it?" Derek inquired.
"There's no record of him actually arriving in Kerentoth......and this is the strange part: I can't find any evidence of him being born there, either."
"Records weren't necessarily so trustworthy all those years ago." Rachel offer with a shrug. "Tallander's information was probably misplaced, or perhaps destroyed."
"Maybe. Still, it seems a little odd. There's a record of his death, though, a newspaper report dated March twenty-seventh, 1902: 'Father Heinrich Tallander, known to us and loved by all, passed on two days ago in a tragic accident which also killed a visitor to the village, police officer Paul Reichlok.' That's all."
"Is there a photograph with the article?" Derek asked. Alex looked faintly surprised, but nodded. "Sure." She called up the image, and the text was replaced by a faded black and white picture of a handsome young man, tall, with piercing eyes and something a little peculiar in his smile. Rachel, standing close to Derek, heard the Precept's sharp intake of breath as he gazed at the photograph. She glance at him questioningly, but he declined to elaborate further.
"Clearly we need more information about Tallander before we can decide what to do with him." The psychiatrist commented. "Surely there must be more?"
"I'll keep looking. Meanwhile, I think someone had better go keep our visitor company." Alex suggested.
"I'll do it." Nick volunteered swiftly. "If he tries anything...."
"Nick." Derek shot him a warning look. "You have no idea how powerful this being may be. If he does "try anything" you yell for me, okay? Don't tackle him yourself. As far as Tallander is concerned, consider yourself vetoed."
"But...."
"End of argument."
"He knows something."
"Nick..."
"I'm telling you, he knows something and he's not letting on." Alex was taking her turn at guarding Tallander while Rachel and Nick took a break downstairs. Derek was in his study, hunting through various battered volumes in an attempt, he said, to learn something more about Tallander. Nick, however, was convinced that such activity on the Precept's part was pretty much unnecessary.
"He's kept information from us before." The young man glanced darkly in the direction of the study. "I don't trust him."
"Nick, you've known Derek all your life, for God's sake! I've only known him for a few years but I trust him totally. There's no reason why we shouldn't."
"Oh, come on, Rachel! Haven't you noticed how weird he's been acing ever since Tallander turned up? You're a psychiatrist, you must have noticed."
"All right, fine." Exasperated, Rachel stood and began to pace. "I've noticed he's acting a little oddly, yes. But it's stress, Nick! How do expect him to react?"
"I'm telling you, Rachel, it's more than that." Corrigan gave in with a weary sigh..
"Okay, okay. But if you really think so then why don't you just confront Derek with it rather than trying to incite me to mutiny?"
"I wasn't...." Nick caught the glint in his friend's eyes, and smiled unwillingly. "Yeah, well, maybe I was trying to drum up a little support. But what could I have said to Derek? 'Hey, sorry to bother you but are you by any chance in league with the Dark Side?'"
"I never suggested that you openly insult him. Just make your position clear, that's all. Derek's a reasonable man, he'll understand your concerns." Slowly, Boyle nodded, then got to his feet. "You know, you're right....as always. I'll got talk to Derek." Rachel smiling to herself, followed him as he headed for the study.
"Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?" For the past fifty minutes Alex had been sitting on a chair beside the bed where Tallander lay, as he sprawled prone, gazing at the ceiling, ignoring her completely. Determined to get some answers, she had dispensed with tact and subtlety and decided to interrogate him outright - as pleasantly as possible, of course.
"Are you likely to believe anything I tell you?" For the first time the priest's eyes met hers. He sat up, suddenly becoming animated. "Not one of you in this place trusts me. I came here intending no harm and yet you treat me like a prisoner."
"You can hardly complain, Father Tallander." Alex replied smoothly. "You invaded Philip with no consideration for his welfare. Have you any idea of the mental torment he's suffered?"
"Naturally the process could not be easy. Your friend fought me quite impressively. However, it was required that I return, and, as I tried many times to assure Father Callaghan, he will suffer no permanent harm from my....invasion."
"If you're so harmless, then why not just explain to me what you want from us? Perhaps we can help." Tallander smiled slightly, and his whole countenance seemed to brighten.
"I wish you could, Miss Moreau. I genuinely wish you could."
Nick Boyle marched up to the door of Rayne's office, and was about to storm inside when he paused, remembered Rachel's words. Besides, if Derek was up to something, Nick wanted to play his hand carefully; the situation in fact called for a little more tact than the young man usually could be considered to have. So he hovered for a moment, then taking a breath, knocked calmly on the door.
"Come." Nick stepped inside; Derek was sitting at the desk, scribbling away in a notebook; to Boyle's surprise, he leaned back and placed his feet calmly on the desk, the picture of quiet comfort. The very idea that he could be so calm and unconcerned in the middle of Philip's crisis enraged Boyle even more than the idea of the Precept withholding information. He balled his fists and glared belligerently across the desk.
"Good to see you too, Nick." Derek murmured dryly. "What have I done this time?" Nick blinked.
"What are you doing about Philip?" He demanded, completely discarding his initial plan of rational discussion.
"What kind of a question is that? He's under guard."
"Yeah, Alex is up there alone with that thing and you're sitting here relaxing! I don't know what's going on here, but there is one thing I'm sure about: Derek Rayne takes the safety of the Legacy very seriously." The man seated in Derek's chair smiled vaguely.
"You're an astute young man, Mr. Boyle. When did you realise?"
"I had my suspicions when you spoke to Tallander this afternoon. You acted strangely towards him....almost as though you knew him. I didn't put it together then, but when I walked into the room just now....I knew I was right."
"And what, may I ask, was this ultimately revealing error on my part?"
"The book." Nick indicated the journal, now closed, which lay on the desk. "You neglected to observe," he went on, mimicking his opponent's formal tone, "that Derek Rayne is left-handed." He watched the other man closely; the entity that was controlling Derek seemed amused by Nick's revelation. He smiled faintly, sat up in his chair.
"Bravo, Mr. Boyle! A wonderful piece of detective work. Doctor Rayne would be proud of you." Nick eyed him coldly.
"I think," the entity went on, "that I owe you all an explanation."
"Drink of me," he whispered. "And be one with the True Master." Whirling, shoving the priest away, Paul spun to face the congregation, to gain their help. Surely they must realise that the priest was insane? But gazing desperately among the faces, all Paul could see was a mass of rotted, withered bodies, slumped in pews. Bodies of men, women, children, some of them skeletal, some hideously bloody, all with hands raised, not in terror, but in horrific acceptance of their dark master. A congregation of the dead. In helpless horror, Paul returned his gaze to the priest, and in doing so, his eyes fell upon on the large crucifix position above the altar. Looking into the face of the Saviour for some kind of aid, Paul withheld a scream.
Blood was seeping from the wounds of Jesus Christ, from the wrists and ankles where the nails had pierced the flesh. The priest moved to face the cross, half kneeling in a cruel mockery of genuflection. As the disciple of darkness touched his fingers lightly to his forehead, the crucifix erupted in flame. Around Paul, the hitherto silent members of the congregation began chanting, chanting words which sounded Latin, which Paul half understood. With a howl of anguish the officer reached up to grasp the cross before fire could consume it. Holding the burning wood, heedless of the pain, Paul swung it in the direction of the priest. The chanting grew louder, louder, louder still. Desperate, Paul flung the crucifix at the altar, which the priest had been forced by the flames to vacate. The cloth was consumed almost instantly in fire, and the priest laughed insanely, amused at Paul's terror, delighted by his agony. Paul could only stare in disbelief as the fire began to spread, touching the pews, the congregation, who seemed to exult in it. Unafraid, the priest stepped sagely into the fire, his dark eyes reflecting it.
"Destroy us if you will, Paul. You alone can do that. But you don't truly want to. There is another way....all you have to is take my hand." So sure, so certain that Paul could be subverted, that he must choose the dark path.
"No. In the name of God and all that is holy I banish you from this world!"
"In the name of Satan," The priest replied quietly, "I banish you from yours." And the flame consumed him. Black ash lay before Paul, and that alone would serve as memorial for the evil which had existed in the parish at Kerentoth. Turning more slowly, Paul saw that the inhabitants of the village lay mewling and writhing in twisted agony as the fire ate at what remained of their tainted flesh. The fire began to eat into the wood, softly, almost gently, a force not of cruel destruction but of cleansing. Elvira, Paul thought sadly, as the flame consumed him, as well.
"We have no other option but to consider it." Seated at various positions in the large room, the other members of the San Francisco House stared at their precept in horrified disbelief.
"Possession." Nick repeated. He sounded dazed. Rachel sat up, and turned worried eyes on Derek.
"You're sure about this?"
"Not entirely. But it would seem to explain everything that has happened....would you rather believe that Philip would willingly attack his friend?" Heaving a sigh, Alex shook her head slowly. "Personally I have to agree with you. I can't see any other explanation, except for some serious psychological problem, I guess...."
"And that's out of the question." Rachel put in firmly. "That's my professional opinion, at least." Nick stood up abruptly, the only one not convinced.
"I can't accept that. If Philip was truly possessed, we'd be able to tell, right? I mean, come on, we've known him years! Do you honestly think that some spirit could fool us and make us think it was Philip?" No one answered; Rachel gazed at Nick sympathetically, Alex gazed down at the floor, and Derek stare resolutely out of the window. Nick stared around at them, shaking his head wonderingly.
"But how? And why?"
"That is what we must discover." Getting to his feet, Rayne headed for the door. "I'm going to speak to Philip now, alone. Rachel, I want you to go through his journal again, see if there's anything which may give us a clue to who or what is controlling Philip's body. Nick, find Kat and keep her amused until I'm done; Alex, I want you to run a check for me; get the computer to search for the name "Maria Kroftenstein."
"Why?" Alex was puzzled.
"I'll explain layer."
Philip Callaghan lay on his back, gazing up at the ceiling. His head ached severely, but his heart ached more. He could not remember exactly the events which had resulted in his being here, locked in Derek's quiet, still room, and was not sure that he wanted to. He was afraid.
Philip raised a hand to his head as the chanting began again; it had been there in his mind for days now, slowly getting stronger, as he inevitably weakened. He could feel that sound draining him of his will, of his faith, of his sanity, but nothing Philip could do seemed to have any effect on it. He whimpered softly as the noise became unbearable, biting his lips hard enough to draw blood, pressing his hands frantically to the sides of his head as the chanting ever increased, louder, louder, louder....
"STOP!" The priest shrieked, unable to stand the anguish any longer. "STOP, for the love of God, LEAVE ME BE!" Within him he could feel the chaos rise and the wind began to howl inside his tortured, agonised mind. Writhing on the bed, he moaned in horror as he felt the hideous twisted personality which lay inside begin to assert itself; he knew he must fight, but his strength was ebbing, slipping away into the dark, and as he threw his head back in a shriek of horrible release, the flame which had once burned so brightly in his soul flickered, and winked out.
Halfway up the stairs, Derek Rayne froze, hand on the banister, as he heard the bloodcurdling screams from above. Terror grasped his heart in its cold cruel fingers as he began to run, calling Philip's name. After what seemed to be an eternity he reached the bedroom, fumbled frantically at the lock and finally flung the door open; inside, his friend lay on the bed, moaning softly in hideous agony.
"Philip!" His worst fears confirmed, Derek lunged towards the bed. Around him the world seemed to ebb and change; as chaos held the priest in its maddening grip, that instability transferred to the outside, and the room was charged with madness. It was suddenly incredibly difficult to move; refusing to give his friend up without a fight, Derek struggled, inch by painful inch, the rest of the way across the room. The door slammed heavily behind him as, from another world, he heard the shouts of Alex, Nick and Rachel as they attempted to come to the rescue. From somewhere beyond all human experience a sound began, softly at first, then growing, growing, becoming deafening, tearing into his very soul....the sound of chanting.
With a superhuman effort Derek reached Philip. The priest was writhing, his eyes fixed sightlessly on the ceiling, as his head was snapped cruelly back and forth by an unseen hand.
"Philip!" But there was no reply. The priest was too far gone even to hear the Precept's pleading cry. Derek stared down at the crippled form helplessly.
"Philip, you must fight this! You cannot let this creature control you!" A howling, unearthly wind screamed from nowhere, the storm brewing almost instantaneously, drowning out Derek's desperate words. Still he continued, knowing that if Callaghan could not beat the demon wrestling for control of his body, then Rayne himself could not.
"You are stronger, Philip. It cannot defeat you. Now fight it!" For an instant, something flickered in the priest's eyes; he gazed wonderingly up at Derek, as without warning the storm thrust a gleaming golden sword deep into the Precept's heart. With an agonised cry, Derek reeled backwards, collapsing against the wall. Philip Callaghan released a piercing howl of anguish, falling back helplessly on the bed as the storm rage around him.
Then, as abruptly as it had began, the chaos ceased.
Derek Rayne looked up dazedly as a familiar voice addressed him.
"Are you all right?" As the mist cleared from before his eyes, Derek found himself gazing into the eyes of Philip Callaghan, as the priest knelt beside him on the cold, wooden floor.
"I....think so. Are you?" The other man nodded, smiling slightly. Derek rose shakily, realising abruptly that he had been mistaken. The tone had been wrong; there had been no concern, no warmth, in the eyes, merely a kind of detached, indifferent curiosity.
"Who are you?" The stranger turned, gazed at Derek with quiet amusement.
"My name" he said softly, "is Heinrich Tallander."
V
"So....this man, who claims to be called Tallander, also claims that he was a priest in the late nineteenth century. And he's not a threat?"
"I never said that, Rachel." Derek Rayne sat across from her, in the soft chair which she kept for patients. It was odd to be in such a position, she reflected. Quickly checking her watch, Corrigan communicated with an apologetic glance that the exchange would have to be concluded for now, at any rate.
"I understand. Come over when you're done and we'll discuss this further. I'd also like you to meet our....guest."
"You've got a deal." As Rayne got to his feet and headed for the door, Rachel stopped him with a concerned question.
"Derek....what have you actually done with Tallander?"
"Done?" Rayne was puzzled.
"Well....he's not free to roam, is he? I mean, we're not talking ball and chain here but I would have thought...."
"Your caution is admirable, Rachel. As a matter of fact Alex and Nick are keeping an eye on him constantly, but he's done nothing so far which would make us perceive him as actually dangerous....except possibly to Philip." Rachel heaved a faint sigh, nodded, and turned back to her desk as Derek left the room.
The man who looked like Philip Callaghan was sitting calmly on the couch, gazing out of the window at the far-reaching grounds of the Legacy house. Alex Moreau sat opposite him, watching him intently, while Nick Boyle pretended nonchalance, reading a paper, his sense constantly acute to the possibility of attack. He tensed as the priest raised his head.
"Mister Boyle, Miss Moreau, this continual guarding is indeed understandable but hardy necessary. I pose no threat to you."
"Then why have you done this to our friend?" Alex forestalled Nick's angry response by a more diplomatically phrased question.
"That's also what I would like to know." All three looked up at the sound of the Precept's voice. Derek stood leaning casually against the doorframe, eyeing Tallander thoughtfully. The priest - if indeed he was such - stared back at him, his eyes cold, unmoved. Derek smiled faintly, ran a hand lightly through his hair.
"So tell us, Father. What is it that made you invade the body and soul of a gentle man who never did anyone harm? A good man, who gave his life to help others? What made a creature like you wish to inhabit such a one as Philip Callaghan?" This last sentence was spat with such starting venom that Alex and Nick exchanged bemused looks. Throughout the tirade the interloper's eyes had never left Derek's face; now the indifference in them vanished, replaced by sudden shock, then rage, then vicious contempt.
"You cannot force me to answer your question, doctor Rayne." The words were sneering, almost amused, as though appreciate some poetic irony. Derek's smile grew wider.
"That, Father," he demurred, "remains to be seen."
Tallander was locked firmly in Philip's room while the others sat round a computer behind the holographic wall, watching as Alex's fingers danced rapidly across the keyboard. Barely thirty seconds passed before she announced triumphantly,
"Here it is." Derek, Nick and Rachel crowded closer to see.
"According to what I have here, "Alex continued, "Tallander was the priest in a small village in south Germany, called Kerentoth. This is strange." She tapped a few keys and frowned.
"What is it?" Derek inquired.
"There's no record of him actually arriving in Kerentoth......and this is the strange part: I can't find any evidence of him being born there, either."
"Records weren't necessarily so trustworthy all those years ago." Rachel offer with a shrug. "Tallander's information was probably misplaced, or perhaps destroyed."
"Maybe. Still, it seems a little odd. There's a record of his death, though, a newspaper report dated March twenty-seventh, 1902: 'Father Heinrich Tallander, known to us and loved by all, passed on two days ago in a tragic accident which also killed a visitor to the village, police officer Paul Reichlok.' That's all."
"Is there a photograph with the article?" Derek asked. Alex looked faintly surprised, but nodded. "Sure." She called up the image, and the text was replaced by a faded black and white picture of a handsome young man, tall, with piercing eyes and something a little peculiar in his smile. Rachel, standing close to Derek, heard the Precept's sharp intake of breath as he gazed at the photograph. She glance at him questioningly, but he declined to elaborate further.
"Clearly we need more information about Tallander before we can decide what to do with him." The psychiatrist commented. "Surely there must be more?"
"I'll keep looking. Meanwhile, I think someone had better go keep our visitor company." Alex suggested.
"I'll do it." Nick volunteered swiftly. "If he tries anything...."
"Nick." Derek shot him a warning look. "You have no idea how powerful this being may be. If he does "try anything" you yell for me, okay? Don't tackle him yourself. As far as Tallander is concerned, consider yourself vetoed."
"But...."
"End of argument."
"He knows something."
"Nick..."
"I'm telling you, he knows something and he's not letting on." Alex was taking her turn at guarding Tallander while Rachel and Nick took a break downstairs. Derek was in his study, hunting through various battered volumes in an attempt, he said, to learn something more about Tallander. Nick, however, was convinced that such activity on the Precept's part was pretty much unnecessary.
"He's kept information from us before." The young man glanced darkly in the direction of the study. "I don't trust him."
"Nick, you've known Derek all your life, for God's sake! I've only known him for a few years but I trust him totally. There's no reason why we shouldn't."
"Oh, come on, Rachel! Haven't you noticed how weird he's been acing ever since Tallander turned up? You're a psychiatrist, you must have noticed."
"All right, fine." Exasperated, Rachel stood and began to pace. "I've noticed he's acting a little oddly, yes. But it's stress, Nick! How do expect him to react?"
"I'm telling you, Rachel, it's more than that." Corrigan gave in with a weary sigh..
"Okay, okay. But if you really think so then why don't you just confront Derek with it rather than trying to incite me to mutiny?"
"I wasn't...." Nick caught the glint in his friend's eyes, and smiled unwillingly. "Yeah, well, maybe I was trying to drum up a little support. But what could I have said to Derek? 'Hey, sorry to bother you but are you by any chance in league with the Dark Side?'"
"I never suggested that you openly insult him. Just make your position clear, that's all. Derek's a reasonable man, he'll understand your concerns." Slowly, Boyle nodded, then got to his feet. "You know, you're right....as always. I'll got talk to Derek." Rachel smiling to herself, followed him as he headed for the study.
"Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?" For the past fifty minutes Alex had been sitting on a chair beside the bed where Tallander lay, as he sprawled prone, gazing at the ceiling, ignoring her completely. Determined to get some answers, she had dispensed with tact and subtlety and decided to interrogate him outright - as pleasantly as possible, of course.
"Are you likely to believe anything I tell you?" For the first time the priest's eyes met hers. He sat up, suddenly becoming animated. "Not one of you in this place trusts me. I came here intending no harm and yet you treat me like a prisoner."
"You can hardly complain, Father Tallander." Alex replied smoothly. "You invaded Philip with no consideration for his welfare. Have you any idea of the mental torment he's suffered?"
"Naturally the process could not be easy. Your friend fought me quite impressively. However, it was required that I return, and, as I tried many times to assure Father Callaghan, he will suffer no permanent harm from my....invasion."
"If you're so harmless, then why not just explain to me what you want from us? Perhaps we can help." Tallander smiled slightly, and his whole countenance seemed to brighten.
"I wish you could, Miss Moreau. I genuinely wish you could."
Nick Boyle marched up to the door of Rayne's office, and was about to storm inside when he paused, remembered Rachel's words. Besides, if Derek was up to something, Nick wanted to play his hand carefully; the situation in fact called for a little more tact than the young man usually could be considered to have. So he hovered for a moment, then taking a breath, knocked calmly on the door.
"Come." Nick stepped inside; Derek was sitting at the desk, scribbling away in a notebook; to Boyle's surprise, he leaned back and placed his feet calmly on the desk, the picture of quiet comfort. The very idea that he could be so calm and unconcerned in the middle of Philip's crisis enraged Boyle even more than the idea of the Precept withholding information. He balled his fists and glared belligerently across the desk.
"Good to see you too, Nick." Derek murmured dryly. "What have I done this time?" Nick blinked.
"What are you doing about Philip?" He demanded, completely discarding his initial plan of rational discussion.
"What kind of a question is that? He's under guard."
"Yeah, Alex is up there alone with that thing and you're sitting here relaxing! I don't know what's going on here, but there is one thing I'm sure about: Derek Rayne takes the safety of the Legacy very seriously." The man seated in Derek's chair smiled vaguely.
"You're an astute young man, Mr. Boyle. When did you realise?"
"I had my suspicions when you spoke to Tallander this afternoon. You acted strangely towards him....almost as though you knew him. I didn't put it together then, but when I walked into the room just now....I knew I was right."
"And what, may I ask, was this ultimately revealing error on my part?"
"The book." Nick indicated the journal, now closed, which lay on the desk. "You neglected to observe," he went on, mimicking his opponent's formal tone, "that Derek Rayne is left-handed." He watched the other man closely; the entity that was controlling Derek seemed amused by Nick's revelation. He smiled faintly, sat up in his chair.
"Bravo, Mr. Boyle! A wonderful piece of detective work. Doctor Rayne would be proud of you." Nick eyed him coldly.
"I think," the entity went on, "that I owe you all an explanation."
