Disclaimer: The characters and premise of Poltergeist: The Legacy does not belong to me (not that I would want to claim Jonathan Boyle). If you recognize a character as canon (such as Derek or Philip, Angelyne D'Arcy, Edmund Tremain, Jane Witherspoon, or Jonathan Boyle), then you know it's not mine. However, the Barton family and other characters you don't recognize do belong to me. Don't mind if you want to borrow them, just give them back intact, and give credit where credit is due.
This story involves the dark side of the Legacy, including the dark sides of beloved characters like Derek Rayne. This story is set in the early 1980's, when he was a young precept, still learning the ropes, and therefore before the time period when he learned what kind of a monster Jonathan Boyle was.
Author's Note: Please be aware that this is the first story in my series dealing with Raleigh House, and it sets up the conflicts which occur when Raleigh and San Francisco Houses are forced to work together. The members of Raleigh House are: precept Dr. Tarquin Marshall; his second in command, Dr Valerie Barton (here a preteen and teenager); Nora Lincoln; Quinn's daughter Claire Marshall; Starr Barton; and Father Philip Callaghan. As of right now, I do not plan to post subsequent stories here. While San Francisco House members do make appearances, they are 'guest appearances.' Which is probably for the best, given the way the two Houses often clash. Also, to save myself some headaches. . .I DO NOT HATE Derek Rayne. I loved Derek. He ticked me off sometimes, but I loved him. However, I have too much respect for the character of Derek Rayne, and the actor Derek de Lint, to say that he was perfect. That said, on with the story.
Truth or Consequences: Part One
Santa Fe, New Mexico: 1984
As the daughter of a Legacy precept, Valerie Barton knew about evil. She was often a prime target, a vulnerability for her father, and for her mother. They tried to protect her, of course. They did protect her, as much as any human being could protect any other human being from supernatural evil, especially. And she learned about evil of the mundane kind, created by people like Hitler and allowed by the complicity of good people. Sometimes, it was the supernatural evil that was most easily vanquished.
But when she was twelve years old, she learned that not all evil took place at night, with thunder and lightning and rain. The summer of 1984, she learned that evil could occur on a beautiful June day. And on that beautiful June day, she learned the hardest lesson of all, that sometimes, the mundane evil was the most deadly kind of all. That the worst monsters were not vampires and werewolves, but the demons walking about in human bodies.
Her family lived in New Mexico at this time, and her older sister Marissa hoped they would be there long enough for her to attain her degree in archaeology. It was only a few years after Indiana Jones first appeared in theaters, but Mel loved archaeology ever since she was a child. During her final year of high school, she went on an archaeological dig and fell in love with that aspect of it as well. The girls' mother, Deirdre, joked it was to be expected. . .Marissa always found a way to get dirty as a child. Why should Marissa the adult be any different?
Val's path was less defined. While she was chosen to follow her father as a precept, she still hadn't decided which path she would take in the Legacy. She was born into the secret organization of her parents, but wouldn't become an official member until she was eighteen. There were so many things that interested Val. . .would she choose history, which her mother loved as well? Or psychology, to mine the treasures of the mind? Or perhaps theology? That still fascinated her, though her godfather disappointed her when he told her that even if she wasn't destined to become a precept, she still couldn't be a priest.
The disappointment didn't last, because one thing she learned in her young life. . . fighting evil could take many forms. There were so many things that were open to her. Perhaps she could follow the arcane paths taken by her mother.
Or maybe she would choose linguistics, since she had a gift for languages. The possibilities seemed infinite. She was young, and still innocent enough to believe that despite the horrors faced by the Legacy, her parents would live forever. Her mother was expecting her third child, at the age of thirty-seven. What could be more life-affirming than a new child? And she was so excited about having a younger brother or sister. No longer would she be the baby.
No longer being the youngest meant she had more responsibilities, and new lessons accompanied those responsibilities. Today was a perfect example. The twelve year old was currently sitting in the library with Leo Herzog. Her mother met him several weeks earlier at the university where she taught comparative religions. During their conversation at the university bookstore, Deirdre Barton learned that the young man could read ancient Hebrew. He just graduated from college, and he was seeking a teaching job. By the end of the day, he had one: teaching ancient Hebrew to Val.
In the first weeks, the Hebrew lessons were taking place on a weekly basis, since Leo was still moving into his apartment. He could only spare one day a week. But, at the beginning of this week, Val's mother told her that Leo would be at the House every day for her lessons, at nine am sharp and the lessons would last until three pm. The girl accepted this. . .but secretly wondered if their new guest had something to do with the change in schedule.
She had a bad feeling that was the case, just from the way the air changed in the House. Before her father left for DC the previous week, he explained that Jonathan Boyle, from San Francisco House, would be arriving. Boyle would be observing the House, see if there were any improvements that needed to be made. Mel told Val, "Just who does Derek Rayne think he is? He's only been a precept for a few years, and he thinks he can tell Dad how to run his House? I don't think so!" Val agreed, but wondered if maybe the new precept actually said that.
Besides, after only two days of Boyle's presence, Val was glad she had lessons. The big, glowering man from San Francisco House frightened her. She was born with special abilities, and was learning to control them. But she thought she would be wary of Boyle even without those abilities. There was something. . .dark about him. Something that frightened her. And so she gladly stayed out of his way. Besides, she would have never admitted it to her godfather, but she had something of a crush on Leo.
"How is she doing today, Leo?" her mother asked from the door as Val struggled with the current lesson. Though she spoke and read Spanish, Italian, and French fairly well, Val discovered that Hebrew was much different and much more difficult. The girl stared at the words that were dancing in front of her eyes, trying to concentrate despite her restlessness. Deirdre McCormick Barton added, "Aside from being restless, I mean."
"Mrs. . .er. . .I mean, Deirdre. . .she's doing fine. Valerie is a twelve year old girl, and it's perfectly natural for a young girl to want to be outside on a day like today. Truth be told, I'd like to be outside myself. But she's trying to stay focused. . .succeeding far better than I would have at her age," the young tutor answered, a dull red flushing his cheeks. Val felt a glow of pleasure at his words. Leo didn't say things he didn't mean.
"I believe that. My daughter is an extremely determined young lady. . .both of them are, actually. Well, since you're both working so hard, I asked the kitchen staff if they would mind baking some chocolate chip cookies for you. They obliged, and the cookies are cooling in the kitchen. They have been given the rest of the day off, along with the others. If my watch is correct, you have a break coming up in a few minutes," Val's mother observed.
Val snapped alert. The kitchen staff was leaving as well? The preteen decided to talk to Brigid, a local high school student who worked at the House during the weekends and summer vacations. She could tell Val what was going on. . .and it would never occur to her to try to protect Val. Mom was smiling, but Val could see strain in her mother's eyes. Val would have never sworn in front of either of her parents, but she privately thought, damn that Boyle! He's upsetting Mom, and that's not good for her or for the baby! Dad's gonna be furious!
But that situation was between her father and Derek Rayne, and Valerie knew better than to interfere in 'grown-up business.' Funny, how grown-up business ended up causing problems for people her age. . .causing problems for kids of any age. But she wasn't supposed to think that. Valerie resolutely returned her eyes to the task at hand, but turning her mind to the translation wasn't so easy for the young girl. Especially not now that she was so worried about her mother, and so afraid of Jonathan Boyle.
"We do indeed. . .fifteen minutes. And if we manage to catch the kitchen staff before we leave, we'll be sure to thank them for the treat, Deirdre," Leo answered. This time, Val had to smile. While she had a crush on her teacher, it was pretty obvious that Leo had a crush on her mother. Why wouldn't he? She was a beautiful woman, everyone said so. . .beautiful and smart, so beautiful that some people wondered how Douglas Barton won such a lovely woman.
"You're very welcome. Val, love. . .don't put your head so close to the paper. You'll hurt your eyes," Deirdre admonished and Val obediently lifted her head. She always did that. Put her head too close to the paper. Her dad thought it was because she was trying to look into the paper, trying to absorb the information. She saw her mother smile, and Deirdre Barton added, "Much better. Working hard is fine and honorable, and we're all very proud of you. . .but I don't want you making yourself sick. All right?"
Val nodded and Deirdre blew her a kiss, then left the room. As she did, Val noted that her mother's left hand was pressed to the small of her back. The girl murmured, forgetting for a moment that she wasn't alone, "Mom needs to sit down for a little while. Her back is hurting. Her feet will be next. Maybe I should get a pillow for her during my break. . .maybe even get some warm water for her feet."
"You're a little young to be a mother, Miss Val," Leo said. Val jumped, then blushed, and Leo added with a smile, "Don't be embarrassed, Val. . .your mother is a wonderful lady, and I think it's fine that you try to take care of her. Especially when your father isn't around." Val smiled, accepting the praise. That was something else she was learning from him. . .how to accept praise when it was given. But the girl wondered uneasily what would happen if Leo found out her beloved mother was a witch? Would he still think she was wonderful then?
. . .
"When Douglas gets home," Deirdre Barton murmured as she left the library, "we need to have a long talk about Valerie's education. She works entirely too hard." She agreed to a lot of things, as the wife of a Legacy precept and probably the mother of another. She agreed that the girls should start learning other languages while they were still children. Valerie learning three languages in five years was a little much, but the child seemed to enjoy it.
She agreed that Valerie should learn how to control her growing abilities, powers that came from both side of her family. Valerie was the daughter of mages and witches in an environment that considered all magick-users evil. It was necessary for the preteen to learn control. After their younger daughter began her Hebrew lessons, Deirdre agreed to arrange daily lessons while Boyle was here. The visiting Legacy member was a fool, but it wouldn't take him long enough to realize that Valerie was a special child.
Valerie was a special child, yes. They knew that after that damnable test. But she was still just a child. What were they thinking, starting her training as a Legacy precept so bloody soon? That was something that Winston Rayne did, and look what happened to him. More to the point, look what happened to his son! If Jonathan Boyle was any indication, Deirdre knew she couldn't go to San Francisco any time soon. Besides. Deirdre knew the Legacy. Even before Jonathan Boyle's arrival, she knew what the Legacy was like. Anyone who was different was automatically evil, or in league with evil, or a blockade to good.
Deirdre shook herself, trying to redirect her attention away from the frustrations of dealing with the Legacy. Her children were her top priority at the moment. She couldn't do anything to change the Legacy, but she could prepare her daughters to meet the challenges posed by the ancient organization. At the same time. . .surely they could have found a better way to keep Valerie out of danger. Some way which didn't involve turning her into a small adult.
Mel was seventeen, but would she really begrudge her little sister a few hours at the mall? Valerie tried so hard to please them, tried so hard not to disappoint them. Deirdre thought of her daughter, head bent over the ancient Hebrew words, and fought back tears. Maybe some of this was her fault. She should have seen these trials coming years earlier, before the girls were even born. Was she stupid back then, or just naive?
She knew when she joined the Legacy that her children would grow up much quicker. And she knew that they might suffer for Deirdre's faith, for her belief in the Goddess. For that reason, she agreed to raise them as Catholics. And yet, it seemed that no matter what she did to protect her children, it wasn't enough. Deirdre was terribly worried about Valerie, and about her unborn daughter. The Legacy matron knew her unborn child was another daughter. Just as she knew that both Marissa and Valerie were daughters. She cast no spells. . .she just knew. She also knew that she wouldn't live to see her youngest daughter to grow up.
I will find a way to protect my girls, Deirdre vowed as she entered the kitchen, I don't know what will happen, but I will protect them. And she had an idea where to start. She observed Brigid and Valerie talking during one of Valerie's breaks from her lessons. The high school student was four years older than Valerie, but in some ways, she seemed younger than Deirdre's little girl. And in others, she was another big sister.
Yes, she thought, that's a good place to start. She's not Valerie's sister, so she doesn't have to worry about the embarrassment. To her relief, Brigid was still cleaning the kitchen before she went home, and Deirdre asked, "Brigie, dear, do you have a moment?" Like Deirdre, Brigid was a generation removed from Ireland. But unlike Deirdre, Brigid's parents immigrated separately to the United States, where they met, married, and had four children.
The soon-to-be junior smiled and said, "Like, no problem, Mrs. Dr. B. Let me guess. . .Val's ready to take a break, and you want me to make sure Boyle-boyle-toil-and trouble leaves her alone. Am I close?" Deirdre wouldn't allow herself to laugh at Brigie's nickname for Jonathan Boyle. . .no, absolutely, she would NOT! She had to set an example as the wife of the precept, especially to the teenagers employed at the House.
However, she did allow herself a smile as she lightly chastised the girl, "Now, Brigie, we must be tolerant of others. No matter how much they try our patience." The teen just snorted in disgust, sticking her finger toward her mouth. Deirdre got the reference. It was hard not to, between her students and her daughters. She just had to be careful. . .there were times when she found herself talking like the teenagers she taught.
Brigie retorted, "Gag me with a telephone pole! Totally! Like, he is a complete moron! Even my mom thinks so!" That was bad. Brigie's mother was the same age as Deirdre. Although, the auburn-haired woman wondered how Brigie's mother even knew about Jonathan Boyle? Did she meet him? That question flew out of her mind as Brigie stiffened, adding in standard English, "Of course, I'll look out for Valerie, Dr. Barton. You know I think of her as a little sister." It didn't take a psychic to realize Jonathan Boyle just entered the room.
She turned to face the man and asked calmly, "Yes, Jonathan, was there something you wanted to discuss? Brigie, thank you. . .that means a lot to me. Come, Jonathan, we'll go into the study." Without waiting for an answer, Deirdre brushed past the visiting Legacy member and walked back into the study. Ever since Jonathan Boyle's arrival at the Legacy House, Deirdre noticed the way he looked at their staff and their members. She didn't like it. Didn't like it at all. While her husband, she was acting precept, and it was long past time for Boyle to remember that. Her calm was only skin deep. . .inside, her heart was racing. What was he up to this time? She had the answer within seconds.
"Well, wasn't that sweet. . .or should I be concerned? Two witches in a coven," Boyle sneered. Deirdre's blood ran cold. . .how did know? She, Douglas, and Nathaniel agreed to keep Deirdre's faith a secret from the rest of the Legacy. Deirdre wasn't ashamed of being a witch, and Douglas wasn't ashamed of loving and marrying a witch. . .but she knew the Legacy. They both knew the Legacy. Not well enough, maybe. That was always a possibility.
Deirdre swallowed hard, fighting to maintain her composure. Once she could present a composed face to the world, she asked, "What do you mean? I asked Brigid to make sure Valerie doesn't work too hard. She's only twelve. . .and children need to relax." Deirdre chose her words carefully. . .she knew his views on raising children. If anything could distract Boyle from her beliefs, this would.
She wasn't to be that lucky. Boyle held up Deirdre's pentacle and snarled, "I know what this is, witch. You've destroyed a good man, with your witchcraft. You've probably destroyed your daughters as well. But I'll cleanse this House. And I'll cleanse your daughters as well. It's a pity they have to suffer for your sins, but that's the way the world works. They can blame you on their way to hell."
Boyle threw the pentacle to one side, swaying slightly as he did so, and Deirdre realized for the first time that he was drunk. This was worse than she thought. Much worse. However, panicking wouldn't help. She forced herself to stay calm and replied quietly, "What I believe does not make me evil. It just makes me different. I won't argue with you about this, Jonathan. Valerie is due to take a break in a few minutes, and I mean to see that she gets that break."
She half-turned, but wasn't fast enough. Boyle lunged forward and caught her arm. He whipped her back around to face him and Deirdre cringed at the smell of alcohol. Boyle sneered, "Don't you get it yet, witch? I'm in control now!" He began chanting in Latin. . .evidently, he believed Deirdre would cringe from hearing him call on his Christian god. He would not be happy when it didn't harm her. Deirdre cautiously looked around for possible escapes. She was eight months pregnant, and he was a big man. . .she knew he would harm her and her child. It was steadily becoming clearer how things would turn out, but Deirdre was determined not to let down her family.
When he finished the chant, she merely looked at him, resisting the childish impulse to stick her tongue out at him. There was no sense in deliberately making things worse. She wouldn't provoke someone already unstable by doing something totally infantile. His brow furrowed in confusion and he asked, more to himself than to her, "What's wrong? I must be doing the chant wrong. It should have killed her. Why aren't you dead, witch? Is your pact with Satan that strong?"
Deirdre looked at him silently, trying to choose her words carefully. She was a witch, not a Satanist, but she knew that mattered little. In the Legacy, it mattered not at all. At last, she said, "I have made no pact with Satan, Jonathan. I am a child of the Creator, as you are." His eyes hardened and he flung her away. Deirdre cried out, in spite of herself, and threw her hands out to catch herself. The nightmare began.
. . .
It was good to be on summer vacation. Especially when you lived in New Mexico. And especially when you were heading for your freshman year of college. Marissa Rose Barton often asked her father if he chose New Mexico for its archaeological importance. It was a joke, of course. . .Mel knew that the Legacy sent you where you were needed. According to her godfather, it was like being a priest. The Church sent you where you were needed. Sort of.
Regardless of the reason, she was ecstatic when she learned that they would be in New Mexico. There was such history, so much potential! And things could only get better. She was seventeen, poised on the greatest adventure of her life to date. And as a child of the Legacy, that was saying a lot. Mel didn't care that she wasn't destined to be a precept. She hated paperwork. She would leave that to her kid sister.
Who was, at this moment, poring over ancient Hebrew. Like, yuck! What sane twelve year old would want to be studying on a day like today? Then again, Mel knew that Val was in her lessons to protect her from that creep, Boyle. And like all older sisters, Mel considered her kid sister at least a little weird. The girl shuddered dramatically as she put away her nail polish. Speaking of Boyle, when would that jerk leave, so life could go back to normal?
As an incoming college freshman, Mel was caught between the world of children, which her younger sister still inhabited, and the world of adults. Still, she belonged more to the adult world. . .and during the last few days, she saw the dark side of the Legacy. At least, Mel hoped that the arrogant, volatile, troublesome Jonathan Boyle was the dark side of the Legacy. She didn't want to think he was the good part.
No, as far as she was concerned, her parents were the good parts of the Legacy. Not Jonathan Boyle, not Derek Rayne, and not that slimy toad Edmund Tremain. Marissa's dark eyes narrowed as she thought about the precept of the Ruling House. For all that her kid sister irritated her, and sometimes wished Val was adopted, no one messed with her little sister. Edmund Tremain didn't just mess with her baby sister. . .he almost killed her, and for that, his appointment as precept of the Ruling House was extended!
On second thought, maybe she should rethink joining the Legacy. They promoted people like Edmund Tremain, and denigrated people like her mother. It was okay to torture and almost kill ten year old girls, 'cause it was done in the name of the Legacy. That made everything all right, where people like Edmund Tremain and Derek Rayne were concerned. Marissa's eyes flashed once more at the injustice of it.
She once asked her mother why she stayed in the Legacy, since they thought so little of magick-users of any kind. Deirdre was silent for a long time, then told her daughter, "Because if I leave, nothing changes. Or, if they do change, then the changes will be bad. The circle of protectors grows smaller, and the number of people like Edmund Tremain increase. But if I stay, I have a better chance of making things better. If I stay, perhaps I can prevent some other ten year old girl from undergoing that damnable test which almost killed your sister."
They never spoke of the incident in detail. Her father never talked about it at all, for he was still guilt-ridden about the whole matter. Two years passed, and Valerie recovered. Both in mind and in body, but their father couldn't forgive himself for risking her life like that. And her mother just referred to 'that damnable test.' It wasn't just 'the damn test,' or 'that damn test,' but 'that damnable test.' As if it was created in the very fires of hell.
Which, really, was entirely likely. The Legacy had to know their operatives were strong enough, she got that. Didn't particularly like it, of course, but she understood the need for such tests. But Valerie wasn't even a member of the Legacy! Not at ten, and speaking for herself, if someone did that to Mel's daughter, she wouldn't let the Legacy anywhere near her! She couldn't imagine her mother having enough faith in the Legacy to remain with such an organization. That just astounded her, beyond all measure. The Legacy almost killed a ten year old girl, and hid behind its own rules. They almost destroyed that child's sanity, to say nothing of the sanity of the rest of her family!
Mel shook her head, trying to refocus her attention on something else before her temper went through the roof. She wiggled her toes, hoping the polish would dry faster. Using a hair dryer had momentary appeal, but she didn't like the idea of using heated air to dry flammable materials. Okay, go to plan b. She looked around her room, trying to focus on a book that would hold her attention long enough for her nail polish to dry, then grimaced. Okay, no books which she hadn't read, or was dying to read again. And she promised her father that she would only read for pleasure while she was on vacation. Maybe because he trusted her to stay out of trouble, even if he didn't trust Val to do the same. On the other hand, she supposed she couldn't blame a twelve year old girl who didn't look for trouble, not when trouble just seemed to naturally find her.
She glanced at her toenails again. Well, they were already starting to dry. It couldn't hurt if she headed downstairs to get a snack. She would just have to be careful about the way she walked. Mel slid off her bed and very gingerly walked across the bare wood floors. As she slipped downstairs, she could hear Jonathan Boyle's voice. Mel's hand tightened on the banister. This did NOT sound good. Still. . .she crept on downstairs and inched her way toward the study.
She listened with growing horror to the conversation between the visiting Legacy member and her mother. . .how on earth did he find her mother's pentacle? That didn't matter now. Mel saw her mother turn to leave, and Boyle grabbed her arm. He started chanting something in Latin. . .Mel's Latin was rusty, but she knew enough to realize he was chanting the 'Our Father.' What, did he think it would kill her mother? Apparently so. . .for Mel next heard the prick asking what kind of a deal her mother struck with Satan. Puh-leaze! Mel knew the majority of the Legacy thought all witches were evil, but this was going a bit far. Then again, she thought, this is Jonathan Boyle, and Dad's never been impressed with his intelligence. However, her contempt turned back to horror when she saw Jonathan Boyle shove her mother away from him.
Mel knew about abusers. She knew that Boyle wouldn't wait to launch a second attack. As he strode toward her mother, Mel launched an attack of her own. She screamed, "Get away from her, you bastard!" He turned at the sound of her voice and Mel flew into him, sending him staggering back. She was small, like her mother and her sister. But her momentum was enough to startle Boyle, and gave her mother a few precious seconds to crawl further toward safety.
Mel maneuvered herself until she was clinging to Boyle's back. And true to form, he started trying to dislodge her, snarling obscenities. There was one other problem. . . Mel could smell the liquor on him. The son of a bitch was drunk. So that was what happened. The creepazoid got drunk (why didn't that surprise her?), and found her mother's pentacle somehow. Probably went snooping through her mother's things, spying for that damn precept of his. Never mind that Derek Rayne WAS awful cute. He was cute, but he sure as hell wasn't cute enough to justify this out-of-control Neanderthal attacking her mother!
Mel made a quiet oath that she would never allow herself to get out of control. . . not from alcohol, not from drugs, and not from love. And that when all this was over, she would give Derek Rayne a rather lengthy piece of her mind. He was to blame for all of this. . .he sent Boyle to Santa Fe, to see how their House could be improved. Improved, ha! He had no business telling Mel's father to run his House, when Rayne couldn't control his own members! Worse yet, Mel was sure Boyle was here to spy. Well, he wouldn't get away with it, and neither would Derek Rayne!
First, however, she had to survive this encounter. Her mother kept trying to stay out of the way of the enraged bull to which Marissa now clung. As her hands threatened to betray her, and she began to slide from Boyle's back, the stakes went up even higher. . .Mel's twelve year old sister skidded into the room, trailed by Leo Herzog, and impulsively threw herself over their mother protectively. Though Mel still struggled to stay on Boyle's back and steer him away from her mother and unborn sibling, she still had to blink and look twice. She had to make sure she was seeing what she thought she was seeing. No, that couldn't be right. It was just a nightmare, her mind was playing tricks on her. But still, the image remained. Her little sister. . .so small and fragile-looking. . .throwing herself protectively over their mother.
Oh no, Marissa thought, Val, get outta here! She tried to steer Boyle away from her mother and sister, but he was stronger than she was, and it was all she could do to hang on. She dug her fingers into Boyle's shoulders, wishing she hadn't cut her fingernails. She would have liked to have hurt him in one form or another. By the time it was all over, that wish would be repeated a thousandfold.
. . .
Only five minutes after her mother departed, Leo Herzog shook his head ruefully and looked at Val, saying, "C'mon, kiddo, that's enough of that. Let's take our break, get some of those cookies. And figure out if we wanna spend the rest of the day inside, or out in the sunshine. You're a growing girl, you need time in the sun." He paused, smiled, and added, "Besides, I don't know about you, but my concentration's about shot. We both need the break."
Val closed her book with a sigh. She started to reply, started to thank her young teacher somehow, but the sound of angry voices drew her attention. Leo said softly, "That's coming from downstairs. . .and it sounds like Mr. Boyle." Val froze and stared at her teacher. She wasn't officially dismissed and her upbringing taught her to stay put until she knew what she was supposed to do. And even if she wasn't taught that. . .she couldn't have moved.
Leo quickly ended that paralysis, adding, "Let's go. . .I have a really bad feeling about this." He took Val's hand, and together, they raced downstairs. The shouting was coming from the study, and Val broke away from the young man. She headed into the study. . .then stopped dead in her tracks. Her sister clung to Boyle, screaming in fury and trying to steer him away from their mother, who was sprawled on the floor. But their mother wasn't out of danger yet.
She was lying on her side, curled into a fetal position, to protect herself and the baby. The baby. Valerie's little brother or little sister. He was gonna hurt her little brother or little sister! Leo murmured, "Stay put, Valerie, and I'll call the police. That man is completely out of control." Val bobbed her head numbly and Leo ran into the kitchen, the site of the next nearest phone. . .there was no way he could make it to the phone in the study.
Then Boyle almost dislodged her sister. Mel couldn't hold on much longer. As it was, she reminded the preteen of a cowboy trying desperately to keep control of a bucking bronco. Boyle turned toward her mother. Val forgot her promise to stay put, forgot about doing as she was told. Her mother needed her. She threw herself toward her mother. Val's intention was to get her mother out of Boyle's line of fire. Her plan died when a booted foot slammed into the small of her back. It felt like she was hit with a locomotive, and Val slumped over her mother.
Her mother was whispering, "Oh, Goddess, no!" She was trying to move Val out of the line of fire, but Val couldn't move. The first kick struck her spinal column, felt as if it shattered her vertebrae. Not that she would have moved, if she could have, despite the repeated kicks. Despite the kicks that cracked the ribs protecting her back, Valerie made her choice. She would not let this monster hurt her mother or her unborn sibling.
A crack opened in her mind, one sealed for the last two years. Valerie had the strange sense that if she simply wished herself and her mother away, it would be over. She didn't know why she thought that, but as the kicks continued to land, it was something she reached for. Each time she thought she was close, pain dimmed the edges of her vision, bringing her dangerously close to darkness. But she held on. She held on, feeling her brother or sister move under her body. She held on, not daring to let go. She held on, because. . .because. . .
It felt like she was breaking in half. Her mother was sobbing her name, begging the Goddess to help her daughter. Val didn't let go. And she didn't know how long it lasted. . .but the kicks finally ceased, and Mel was at her side. She pulled Val away from their mother, sobbing, "Val. . .Mom!" Val shook in her sister's arms, from a combination of shock and terror and pain. But that was good, wasn't it, if she could feel pain?
Valerie tried to follow that thought to its logical conclusion. She wasn't even sure why she was fighting so hard now. It was over, her mom and the baby was okay. It was over, she could let go now, couldn't she? But she couldn't. Not yet. It was a good thing, wasn't it, if she had feeling in her body? Mel screamed, brushing Val's dark hair back from her eyes, to someone Val couldn't see, "I don't care what you have to do, but keep that monster away from my mother and my sister! Oh, God, Val. . .Val, sweetie, I am so sorry!"
She rocked Val in her arms, still sobbing that she was sorry. The younger girl had no idea why Mel was even apologizing, and it hurt too much to try to think. Instead, Val forced out, "Mom. . .make sure Mom is okay. The baby." Then she could say no more, for she blacked out briefly. When she opened her eyes next, she discovered that the paramedics and police were here. As the paramedics tenderly lifted Val onto the stretcher, she could see Leo Herzog pinning Jonathan Boyle to the floor. Val would have cheered, if she had the strength.
Two policemen took his place and Leo said in a firm voice as he rose to his full height, "Yes, sirs, I'm the one who called you. He attacked Dr. Barton, without provocation, and then he attacked Valerie while she was trying to get her mother to safety. Yes, it's Valerie on the stretcher. She's twelve years old. Her mother is eight months pregnant, so Valerie was trying to protect her and the baby. I'm Valerie's teacher. . .Rabbi Leo Herzog."
Valerie focused on the fallacy of that statement, for reasons she didn't understand. Well, technically, he wasn't a rabbi yet. He didn't have the training yet, but 'rabbi' meant teacher. And he was a teacher, he was her teacher, so that was okay. It was okay, it was. . .ohhhh, that hurt. It hurt so much! No, no, no. She couldn't let go. She couldn't let it hurt, her family still needed her! Daddy, come home, we need you! She tried to cast her mind out, tried to touch her father's mind, like she sometimes could when she was really scared, but. . .
Something pricked her arm, and Valerie managed to turn her head in that direction. One of the paramedics was removing something from her arm. Was it a needle? She couldn't tell. Her eyes were all blurry. The paramedic. . .a woman. . . smiled gently, and brushed at Valerie's eyes. Her vision cleared. Sort of. The paramedic said softly, "It's all right, honey, I gave you something for the pain. You'll be okay."
Something for the pain? Hopefully, it wasn't something Val was allergic to. That wouldn't be a good thing. She must have said something about that, because Mel said softly, her voice hoarse from crying, "It's okay, Val, they asked me about your allergies. You're okay, sweetheart, you're okay." Oh. That was a relief. The girl flinched when she heard her sister scream, "YOU BASTARD! You better hope you never see me again, because if anything happens to my mother or sister because of you, I'll kill you myself!"
Mel was moved away from her, a soft voice trying to soothe the older girl, reminding her that Val was still conscious. The preteen heard something else. One of the police officers muttered under his breath, "Jesus. . .first the prick attacks a pregnant woman, then he beats up her twelve year old kid for trying to protect her? Who in the hell does this guy think he is?" He's a member of the Legacy, she thought fuzzily, that means he has the right to do what he wants, to whoever he wants. He thinks.
Val saw another motion from the corner of her eye. . .Mel was kneeling a few yards away. She swiped up something with her hand. She waited until the officer's back was turned, then turned her hand for Val to see. . .it was their mother's pentacle, which she kept in her special box. Val didn't want to think about what would have happened if the police officers found that. She liked police officers. They were heroes, just like firefighters. But not everyone understood about Mom. The next question was, why was Mom's pentacle out?
She tried to focus on that. . .tried to keep herself in the here and now, before she passed out. She couldn't pass out. . .why? She wasn't sure, but she knew it was important that she remained conscious. Through the red haze of pain still permeating her vision, Val now saw the paramedics as they secured her to the gurney. One of them gently caressed her hair, murmuring, "It's all right, honey, you're safe now." She tried to speak, but it was hard to breathe, and the paramedic asked, "You checked her for a possible puncture to her lungs, didn't you?"
"Yeah. She's good to go. . .I think it's just the pain. Don't worry, honey, we're gonna take good care of you. Just relax, and don't try to talk," the other paramedic answered. Val closed her eyes, trying not to breathe too deeply, so it wouldn't hurt so much. She tried not to think about how much it hurt. They gave her something for the pain, and it still hurt. She couldn't think about that. If she thought about it, and what it meant, she would get scared. And right now, Valerie had to be brave. She had to be brave. Be brave, my Valerie, her mother told her two years earlier, when her mind suddenly went blank. Be brave, darling girl. But even those words couldn't hide the fear in her mother's dark eyes. And her mother was so afraid. . .why? She didn't understand.
"Get my daughter out of here. . .I'll be fine. But call my husband, let him know that we need him here," Val heard her mother rasp. The girl could tell, even as she started floating toward oblivion, that her mother wasn't all right. But she couldn't seem to speak. She had to tell the paramedics that her mother needed help. And then, there was no longer a need to speak, for the pain medication was finally kicking in, and she was drifting. . .
. . .
The paramedics did as she asked, carrying her daughter from the House. Valerie, Deirdre saw, was unconscious. Boyle stopped struggling against the police, and now sobbed that he hadn't meant to hurt anyone. Bullshit, as Nathaniel would have said. That bastard meant to do exactly what he did. If there was any justice in the world, he would pay for this. He would pay, before any other children were hurt while protecting their mothers. She had no way of knowing, of course, that it was already too late for that.
Although, she really didn't care, either. Valerie was in good hands, now Deirdre had to worry about herself and her eldest daughter. . . about her unborn child. The shove shook both mother and child up, though neither were physically injured, and Deirdre's unborn daughter sensed her mother's fear. The little girl was kicking, obviously agitated and not knowing why. Deirdre tried to calm her, but that was proving difficult, since she was terrified out of her mind.
Curiously, she had no fear of the Legacy right now. The Legacy could go straight to hell, for all she cared. No, she was only worried about her children. Though she distrusted the Legacy for years, she never truly believed they would actually harm her children. She was wrong, and if she wasn't so distracted with the survival of her daughters, as well as her own, Deirdre would have actually felt betrayed. She should have seen this coming. She could no longer hide from the truth. The Legacy was nothing more than lies. It claimed to protect the innocent from the monsters and the dark, but it was a seeding ground for evil. It created monsters, in people like Jonathan Boyle and Winston Rayne. It. . .oh, goddess. Oh, goddess, she prayed, help me! Help my daughter! Pain rippled through her, threatening to tear her in half. The baby was coming. . .the baby was coming and it was too soon!
No, no, no, she thought frantically, you must wait, my little one! It is too soon, it is much too soon! But the baby was determined. . .the time was now, she wanted out, because her safe little cocoon was no longer safe. Deirdre's scream of pain alerted Leo and Marissa. Boyle was taken away, still ranting about suffering a witch to live, and the police. . .used a little more force than might have actually been necessary. Deirdre had absolutely no sympathy for him.
Blessedly, Deirdre's unborn daughter waited until she and Mel reached the hospital before starting her entrance into the world. But it was still far too soon. Leo thoughtfully offered to drive Deirdre and Mel to the hospital, so they could be there for Val. The boy was shaken, Deirdre could tell, and at first, she considered saying no. Then she realized that Leo needed something, anything, to do. She assented, after telling him to send the entire staff home now. She was sure the encounter shook them as well.
While Leo was getting the car ready, Mel opened her hand and placed Deirdre's pentacle into her hand, murmuring, "I picked it up while the police were dealing with Boyle. Just wish I could have gotten a few kicks into that son of a bitch myself." Deirdre smiled, in spite of herself. She didn't bother chastising her daughter for her language, and Mel continued, "Figured the last thing we needed was the police asking questions, and thinking you had a pentagram. They don't exactly know the difference between the two."
"Thank you, love," Deirdre murmured, slipping the pentacle into her pocket. She dropped her head against her older daughter's knee. A moment later, Leo was at her side, lifting her into his arms. She couldn't fight him. It was awkward, and if she struggled, he might have dropped her. That would cause true harm to her child, more than her daughter already endured when Deirdre hit the ground. If Boyle harmed both of her younger daughters, she would kill him herself. One way or another, even if it was from beyond the grave.
While the medics were preparing Val for the ride to the hospital, Deirdre told them to do whatever was necessary to help her. The same was true for the doctors. When they reached the hospital, they learned that Val was just wheeled into the ER. As soon as Leo told the doctors at the hospital that Deirdre was suffering from labor pains, the Legacy matron was on a gurney and being wheeled into the delivery room.
The last she saw of her oldest daughter was Mel's tear-stained face as Deirdre was wheeled into the elevator. But over the next several hours, Deirdre could only focus upon her unborn child. The doctors would take care of Valerie, and Leo would look after Mel. Besides, Nathaniel and Douglas were on their way. That was something else which Leo saw to before their departure from the House. The boy was a goddess-sent in the last few hours.
But her unborn daughter needed her the most right now. She was a month premature, and as Deirdre fought to bring her child into the world, she became aware of a Presence. While she didn't believe in the devil, or in Satan, Deirdre knew evil existed. And right now, an evil was present in this very room. . .an evil which wished to take her child's life. A supernatural evil, which was as real as Jonathan Boyle.
Deirdre was bone-weary, after the physical attacks against her and her children. . .and now, the spiritual attack against her unborn child. She was dimly aware of the doctor saying something about her hemorrhaging. They had to stop the labor, or mother and child would die. That was not an option. Deirdre focused on her unborn child. She knew that if her daughter died. . .something terrible would happen. She couldn't allow her child to die, or the spirit she now felt would take her baby. It would take her body and use her to its own ends.
No. No, she wouldn't allow that to happen. She couldn't allow that to happen, and prayed to the Goddess and the God to help her. 'We are here, child, you have our strength as your sanctuary.' Deirdre could actually hear the voice in her head, the voice of the Goddess. She sensed Them both in the room with her. She knew they would allow nothing to happen to her infant daughter. With the strength she drew from the two deities, Deirdre forced herself to push her child from her womb, toward life.
The doctors were frantically trying to stop labor, but Deirdre was determined. If she allowed her daughter to die, if she allowed that spirit to have her child, then Edmund Tremain won. Jonathan Boyle won. Derek Rayne won. She prayed that her older daughters would forgive her for the choice she was making, but she knew they would. They would never blame her precious baby girl for this. . .only the man who ignited the attack.
She wished she could be there as her older daughters grew up. There were still so many things both Mel and Val needed to know. Things only their mother could tell them, things which neither Douglas nor Nathaniel could tell them. Douglas would. . .oh no! Douglas and Marissa! No, that wasn't what she wanted! She didn't know if she was delirious or dying, but she could see the future as it was laid out before her. And the god whispered, 'Do not be afraid, child, for good may always come from evil. Trust in us, have faith in us.'
Trust. Faith. Deirdre remembered that Winston Rayne always used to say 'faith has need of the whole truth.' What a fool. He was always a fool, but he became even worse after he accidentally killed Ruth Cantwell. Killed the innocent wife and mother because her sister couldn't forgive her for what she had, and cast a glamour spell to make her sister appear as herself. And shattered the soul of the arrogant Winston Rayne, ultimately costing him his life.
'This too had a reason, daughter. Winston Rayne's arrogance and foolishness. Rebecca Cantwell's extreme jealousy. All things happen for a reason. You must trust in us, and you must trust Marissa and Valerie to watch over your last-born child. Time is running out, daughter, you must push your girl-child from your body. We will help you,' came the voices of the gods once more.
By now, the doctors realized they couldn't stop labor. And the room was cold. So cold. Instead of stopping labor, one enterprising young doctor told the others to start helping Deirdre, rather than blocking her. It was too late for that, though. Deirdre knew she wouldn't have the strength needed to heal, not after this. All of her strength went to her daughter now, to her baby and to her Valerie. Valerie. . .would Valerie be all right?
'In time, daughter. Your middle daughter will require time to heal, and she shall have it. Jonathan Boyle, and the other unwitting agents of the Dark will lose today,' the goddess told her in the deepest recesses of her mind. The unwitting agents of the Dark. Yes. That was Jonathan Boyle. That was Derek Rayne. Would either of them realize it before it was too late? She hoped so. She hoped it wasn't too late for Rayne, that it wasn't too late for Boyle's teenaged son. She suspected it was too late for Boyle, but she didn't care. She couldn't forgive him for what he did. She no longer had that much strength.
As the little girl emerged from her mother's body, Deirdre whispered, "Goddess, protect my child. My blood for hers. I make this sacrifice freely." The Goddess granted her request, as she promised she would, and the last thing Deirdre McCormick Barton heard before the Lord and Lady welcomed her into their eternal, loving embrace was the cry of her baby daughter. But Deirdre knew it was not the end.
. . .
Hell was the home of demons and evil. Not all Legacy members believed in hell. Not the place. But in the days following his wife's murder, Douglas Barton grew to believe in hell. The Legacy precept was in Washington DC for a conference when he was called home. His wife and daughters were attacked by that Neanderthal, Jonathan Boyle. . .although that was an insult to the ancestors of the human race. But it would have to do for the moment.
Douglas, and his childhood friend Father Nathaniel Hughes, immediately flew back to Santa Fe, but by the time they reached home, it was too late. Douglas lost his wife, his mate, his lover, his dearest friend. Deirdre died in childbirth. . .and Val was still fighting for her life. As he kissed his wife's cold forehead in farewell, Douglas quietly vowed to avenge the harm done to his family, no matter what the cost to himself. The nightmare didn't end with his wife's death. If anything, that was only the beginning. Only two nights earlier, after Douglas spent some time with his baby daughter, his final gift from Deirdre, he went to Valerie's hospital room. . .only to find Jonathan Boyle looming over his terrified daughter. Enraged, Douglas ordered the San Francisco House member from his daughter's room, then turned his attention to comforting the twelve year old.
It took time to calm her down. A long time. Once the bastard was gone from her room, Valerie sobbed helplessly in his arms. Out in the hallway, Marissa was screaming at Boyle in languages that Douglas didn't think she knew. Overnight, his eldest daughter went from a teenager trying to be 'cool' into an enraged lioness protecting her young. If Douglas didn't hurt so badly, he would have laughed. What he heard from his middle daughter, once she calmed down, drove away any laughter remaining in his soul.
Valerie admitted that Boyle was trying to frighten her into lying about what happened to her mother. Told her that the Legacy was such a dangerous profession. . .and wouldn't it be a terrible thing if she was to lose her grieving father so soon after her mother's death? Grieving men made mistakes. . .often fatal ones. Shouldn't Valerie re-think what she said about the attack on her mother? That was the final straw. Even if Douglas could forgive Jonathan Boyle for his drunken attack on his family, he could never forgive the other man for threatening his daughter while he was sober. Douglas begged Edmund Tremain to call a tribunal against Boyle. Douglas wasn't sure why he went to Tremain. The old man never made a secret of his dislike of Deirdre or his opinion of witches. Perhaps Douglas believed that as a Legacy precept, Tremain would believe in holding murderers accountable for their actions. He was wrong.
He was wrong about Tremain. . .oh, he was so wrong about that man. He was right about Derek Rayne, however. Boyle successfully pulled the wool over that boy's eyes. Had him convinced that Boyle was a great guy, that Douglas was an incompetent fool who couldn't manage his House, and that his daughter was a liar who couldn't accept that her mother was gone. Even now, Douglas shuddered with impotent rage, almost sick as he remembered how condescending Rayne was. Now, with that conversation concluded, Douglas replaced the phone in its cradle. It was a three way conversation between London, Santa Fe, and San Francisco. And it successfully destroyed the little remaining loyalty he felt for the Legacy. He slowly left the doctor's office and headed to Valerie's hospital room. He had to be with his girls. As he walked, he silently vowed that this wasn't over. He would find a way to avenge his wife's death.
Riss was with her younger sister, as she often was these days. She felt guilty for not protecting Valerie and their mother, Douglas realized. She was so impatient with Valerie before. . .before things went to hell. No worse than any other teenager with a younger sibling, but when Boyle almost killed Valerie, Riss's protective instincts went into overdrive, to the point of feeling guilty about being a typical teenager. Both sisters looked up as Douglas entered the room, but it was the older girl asked "You talked to London? Told them about Boyle coming into Val's room and threatening you if she didn't change her story?" Douglas nodded. . .oh, yes, he made a point of telling them THAT part. . .and Riss continued, growing excited, "What are they gonna do about it? They're gonna kick him out of the Legacy, aren't they?"
It took all of his strength to shake his head. Riss and Val looked at each other. Douglas sat down on Val's bed and explained to his daughters with a heavy heart, "No, baby. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." The sisters once more looked at each other, as if they were hearing something that made no sense to them. Douglas swallowed hard, wishing he could lie to the girls. But he couldn't. He couldn't betray Deirdre like that.
He rubbed at his forehead wearily, looking at both girls. They both looked like Deirdre. . .they both had her dark eyes. Valerie's eyes were a combination of her parents. leaning more toward Deirdre's slightly lighter eyes when she was happy and almost black during times of intense emotion. . .as they were now. Douglas sighed, "Nothing will be done. As far as Rayne and Tremain are concerned, no crime took place. It's over. Boyle will remain in the Legacy, and he won't be punished in any way."
He didn't tell them about Rayne's assertion that a 'brave man like Jonathan Boyle' would never harm innocents. He didn't tell them that Tremain clearly indicated that even if the attack took place, Deirdre probably brought it on herself. Everyone knew that only priests and precepts were qualified magick-users in the Legacy. He didn't tell them that Valerie's statement to the police was dismissed as a hysterical child's rage, following her mother's death. That, according to the other two precepts, she dreamed Boyle's appearance in her room.
Tremain spoke to Valerie for maybe two minutes while she was sedated. Over the phone, no less. He didn't even bother coming to Santa Fe to talk to the girl. How could he say, based on that interview, that she was lying? Douglas realized once more than his wife was right about him. . .Deirdre was unerringly correct when she described the precept of the Ruling House as a lying coward. But Douglas should have realized that after the events from two years prior.
Would have, could have, should have. All those would have, could have, and should haves would never bring his wife back to him. They wouldn't repair the damage done to his daughter's spine, ribs, and kidneys by Jonathan Boyle's heavy boots. They wouldn't change anything. They were words. Just like the Legacy's oath to protect the innocent. Just words. Just lies. The Legacy was filled with liars. The Legacy was a lie. And one day, he would pay back the liars who killed his wife, who almost killed his two younger daughters. He would make them all pay. He would make them all sorry, and he would take all the time he needed to balance the scales. The Legacy ruined his life. He would destroy the Legacy from the inside out. No. No, he would save the Legacy from itself. From men like Jonathan Boyle, Derek Rayne, and Edmund Tremain.
For now, he had to concentrate on the present. The past was done, and the future wasn't important at the moment. He would worry about the future later. His priority now was his children. Riss went white, and tears materalized in Val's eyes. He took each girl's hand and said softly, "It will be all right. Tremain, Boyle and Rayne will pay for what they did to your mother. They'll pay for what they did to Valerie, and to the baby. I promise you. They will pay." The two girls nodded and Douglas released their hands, putting an arm around their shoulders instead. He didn't know how, but all three men would pay dearly. It took him many years, but he eventually carried out that promise. It began when he made an unholy alliance.'All it cost him in return was his soul. . .and the hope of ever seeing his three daughters again. But it would not end there. Oh no. There was far more damage Douglas Barton planned to do.