Truth or Consequences: Part Three
San Francisco, 1986
They said revenge was a dish best served cold. And after waiting two years for this day, Douglas Barton had to agree. It was decided that he would allow Cranshaw the pleasure of killing Jonathan Boyle. . .but he would be allowed to watch. And perhaps even speak, of the spirit so moved him. As he watched from his hidden corner, he smiled with cold anticipation as Cranshaw knocked Boyle across the room, beating him mercilessly.
The smile died as the images once more flashed through his brain. Deirdre, lying cold and dead on the morgue table. Valerie, in her hospital room, trembling with terror as Boyle loomed over her. The smug grin on Tremain's face when he clapped Douglas on the back after the younger man's arrival in Vancouver. The tone of Derek Rayne's voice when he told Douglas that 'a brave man like Jonathan Boyle would never do what your daughter has accused him of. Perhaps you should have taught her better, that she should not lie about people.' Ohhhh. . .yes. The spirit would move him.
"Finish it," Boyle rasped, an arm pressed against his gut, "just finish it! But the Legacy will come after you. . .it doesn't take well to its members being killed." Cranshaw just back-handed him, and it was then that Douglas stepped out of the shadows. Boyle didn't see him at first, which was how Douglas wanted it. There was a time when he studied drama, and the former Legacy precept knew as well as anyone the importance of a well-timed entrance.
"Oh, I'm sure the Legacy will seek out your killer, Jonny boy. But they won't find him," Douglas said, and the man's eyes widened with shock. Ohhhh yes. Yes, this was exactly what he waited for the last two years. This would kill some of the pain. Douglas laughed aloud, saying, "You should see your face, Jonny boy. The shock. The terror. I've been waiting for two years for this. Two years since you destroyed my life, and almost killed my children."
"Derek will come after you. . .you know the rules!" Boyle rasped and again, Douglas laughed. Rules? What rules? He was no longer a member of the Legacy. They cast him out two years earlier. The bravado was quickly fading from the eyes of the other man, and Boyle said desperately, "Think of your daughters. . .and my family! What do you think the Legacy will do to your daughters, the daughters of a known witch?"
"In the first place, I hope Rayne does come after me. I plan on going after him, since he sheltered a murderer. As far as I'm concerned, he's just as culpable as you. In the second place, my daughters have been told nothing of this. What, do you really think I'm stupid enough to tell my fourteen year old daughter 'I'm going to San Francisco to avenge your mother's murder,' Jonny boy? Oh yes, Valerie is very much alive, no thanks to you. And I really don't think I'd tell her about this little meeting," Douglas answered.
Cranshaw melted into a corner, wearing a satisfied smirk. He would not interfere in this. He would have his time, of course, but this belonged to Douglas. The precept began walking around his hated enemy, observing, "It's good, seeing you on your knees. I've imagined this a thousand times over the last two years. Did she beg, Boyle, when you attacked her? Did she plead for her life, did she plead for our baby's life?"
Boyle looked away, but not before Douglas saw something which almost looked like shame in the abuser's eyes. Douglas shouted, startling both Boyle and Cranshaw, "I want an answer! You murdered my wife, you son of a bitch. . .you murdered her, you tried to kill my daughter, and you threatened my entire family!! The Legacy is dying because of people like you! People like that smug, self-righteous precept whom you defend. Maybe I shouldn't blame him. . .after all, he is his father's son."
"No! No, she didn't beg. . .I don't. . .don't remember much. I was drunk, I didn't know what I was doing, I. . ." Boyle began, then screamed as Douglas kicked him hard in the back. He remembered the x-rays of his daughter's spine and ribs, the damage this bastard did to her kidneys, and made sure the kick was located in that general area. He wanted to make sure Boyle had some idea of the pain experienced by his little girl.
"That," Douglas hissed out, "was for my daughter. You know, the doctors could actually count the bruises on her back. You kicked her eight times, Boyle. You broke some of her ribs. You damaged her spine. . .it took her more than a year to get out of that wheelchair. And that's not taking into account the damage you did to her kidneys with your boot. She was trying to get her mother to safety, did you know that? She ran over to get Deirdre up and on her feet, before you could dislodge Marissa, and you kicked her! There wasn't time for her to move, all she could do was lay there, and try to protect her mother and baby sister as much as possible!"
Boyle was cringing, his face screwed up as if in pain. Good. Maybe he couldn't get that picture out of his head. He hoped not. Douglas couldn't forget what he was told. The former precept went on after a moment, "And don't try to make excuses. 'Oh, I was drunk, I didn't know what I was doing!' That's bull! You made a choice to drink, you agreed to spy on my House, you knew exactly what you were doing!"
"It wasn't Derek, it was Tremain!" Boyle exclaimed. Douglas froze. He was drawing back his foot to kick the other man again, but that stopped him, if only for a few moments. Perhaps realizing that he bought a reprieve for himself, Boyle continued, "It was Tremain. He told Derek that he was suspicious of your House, and wanted me to see what I could find out. Back when Derek first became the precept of San Francisco House, he sat on a tribunal, so it made sense to him."
"And let me guess," Douglas said sarcastically, "you were directed to look through Deirdre's jewelry, to see if she had a pentacle. You found that, you found your proof that she was disloyal to the Legacy." Boyle's expression told him that he nailed it, and Douglas shook his head, disgusted. After a moment, Douglas continued, "So, why did Tremain want you to do this, huh? Why kill my wife? Why not call a tribunal?"
Boyle actually hesitated, and Douglas glared at him for all he was worth. After a moment, the ex-major said slowly, "Because your wife's death was a means to an end. Tremain actually wanted her out of the way, so he could have greater access to your daughter. To Valerie." Douglas felt his blood turn to ice water. Boyle went on, "After I got off the phone with you, I called him. Told him that you said Valerie was dead. He told me that you disappeared, and he was on his way to Vancouver."
"Why did he want greater access to my daughter?" Douglas asked almost numbly. He was fairly sure he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear the words. And if he was right, then Tremain was breaking his word. Not that Douglas was particularly surprised, but he needed to know the whole story. Deirde died not because she was a witch, but because she represented a threat to Tremain's power within the Legacy.
Boyle looked away again, and this time, it was Cranshaw who snarled, "You will answer his questions, or the next one I'm going after is your son!" Boyle's head snapped up, his blue eyes blazing with hatred. Cranshaw taunted, "Oh, I see! You can beat your wife and child, can attack a pregnant woman. . .but you're the only one who can harm those women and that boy! You're a hypocrite, just like the rest of the Legacy!"
"You stay away from my son," Boyle growled, "if you touch him, I'll. . ." Douglas cut that threat off with a sharp kick to his gut. Boyle doubled over, gagging. Douglas just glared down at him, and Boyle wheezed, "I know you hate me, Barton, and I guess you have that right. But I love my son, and I'm proud of him. . .I know what I've done to him. I know he's a better son than I deserve."
"Well, on that we can agree. Nicholas is a better son than you deserve. But we have common ground there, as well. I don't deserve any of my daughters. Now. I asked you a question. Why did Tremain want more access to my daughter? Access, I should note, which he did not get, in case you hadn't heard," Douglas repeated. Boyle dipped his head. He did know that. Douglas said again, "I'm waiting. Unless, of course, you want to die with this on your conscience as well. Tell me what Tremain wanted, and I might spare Rayne." He actually had no intention of doing such a thing, but it was becoming clear Tremain was the true villain.
"Because she had powers which could help the Legacy, in ways no one ever dreamed of. She had the power to summon forth the ancient gods of Egypt, could tear the very fabric of reality. Tremain couldn't risk the chance that someone with such power might fall into the wrong hands, and your wife was being obstinate about allowing him to speak with the girl," Boyle finally answered. Douglas felt sick.
He was afraid of this. 'Fall into the wrong hands.' Tremain and Boyle spoke of his little girl as if she was a weapon. Douglas closed his eyes, remembering how pale and limp that ten year old girl lay in her older sister's arms after the test. She expended most of her life force in trying to escape from the test. All because he so stupidly bragged about what powerful a mage his daughter would be.
"Did Tremain tell you," Douglas began, opening his eyes once more, "how he found out about my daughter's abilities?" Boyle shook his head, staring at him warily. Douglas continued, "It was when she was ten years old. Four years ago. The Ruling precept was at our House, and I was so honored. I had a few too many drinks, and started bragging about how accomplished my girls were. Marissa was fifteen and doing so well in school, and Valerie was showing signs of being a mage, like others in my family."
Cranshaw was listening now as well, and the renegade Legacy precept went on, "He challenged me. Put my money where my mouth was, and let him test Valerie's skills as a mage. I agreed. What was the harm in him seeing what my little girl could do? You know what they say. Pride goeth before a fall. And mine sure did. He didn't test my daughter's skills. . .he tortured her. And when Deirdre and Marissa tried to stop it, he had them restrained."
There was only horror in Boyle's expression now, and fear. Douglas stared at him for several moments, then he said, "My little girl held on as long as she could. But she was so young, and so little. Tremain passed the limits for an adult, and just kept pushing her, until Valerie could endure no more. And when she reached her limit, she reached out blindly, trying to escape. When she did that, she tore the fabric of reality. And for that, we were gifted with a visit from the Egyptian god Asu. . .or, as we know him, thanks to the Greeks. . .Osiris. My daughter breached the boundaries between the living and the dead, and almost destroyed both worlds. A price had to be paid. Valerie collapsed, her energy terribly depleted. Asu restored that to her. He knew she wasn't to blame. . .just a child trying to protect herself. He rightly blamed the adults, and warned Tremain what would happen if he ever tried such a thing again. If he ever spoke of that night."
Closing his eyes now, Douglas could see it, as it was then. He could see Valerie limp and pale in Marissa's arms, with Deirdre standing behind them like an avenging angel. He saw the ancient god towering over the terrified Tremain. His eyes still closed, Douglas continued, "Asu marked Valerie as one of his own. If she ever called upon him, he would be there. She was one of his now."
There was a long silence. Douglas opened his eyes to see the effect his words had on Jonathan Boyle. The other man's face wasn't just ashen. . .it was waxy, and his eyes were glazed over. As if his mind was no longer there. But it was laughter from Cranshaw that drew the rogue's attention. Cold fury rose in his soul. He was laughing. That bastard was laughing at Tremain did to Valerie. That, however, wasn't the case at all. Cranshaw said, his voice rich with sarcasm and contempt, "How ironic. . .the Legacy, an organization which prides itself on protecting the innocent, actually tortures and kills those innocents!"
He shook his head, still chuckling, and said, "I begin to understand why my Master wishes to put the Legacy out of our misery. . .he is afraid that they will become competition!" He laughed again, but there was no true mirth in the sound. Cranshaw allowed the laughter to die away, and said, eyeing Boyle speculatively, "So. Your leash-holder authorized the torture of a little girl, did he? Perhaps I should recruit him as a double agent."
Douglas started to ask a question, but Cranshaw said, "Oh, he is already our agent, though he deludes himself into thinking otherwise. He has deluded himself into thinking that he is better than anyone else. As do you, Boyle. You tell yourself when you beat your fifteen year old son that you are doing it for his own good. . .that you are making him stronger, that you are making sure he will survive. What rationale do you use, I wonder, when you beat your wife? Was she not fast enough with dinner? Was the house not clean enough? Was she not willing enough to let you between her thighs?"
Douglas looked at the beaten man on his knees in front of them. This coward was getting a taste of his own medicine. He didn't like it, Douglas could see. He also saw a myriad of emotions passing across Boyle's face. Fear, rage, helplessness, desperation. Despair. Douglas never liked Jonathan Boyle, even before Deirdre's death. Always felt there was something missing from the other Legacy member, something important, something necessary to anyone who would protect the innocent. Not even the revelations of the last few moments, and Boyle's reactions, changed that.
The former precept said in a low voice, "You know, you've spoken of your son more than once today. As far as I'm concerned, I'm doing the world, and that child, a huge favor. Your son can grow up without you, probably the best gift I could give him. I can't bring my wife back from the dead. . .but I sure as hell can make sure no more husbands and no more children go through this hell because of you."
"Then you won't go after Nick," Boyle said, almost as a prayer. Douglas shook his head. No, he didn't hold the boy responsible for the sins of his father. If he did that, he really would be no better than his enemies. He did have some standards left. Boyle continued, "And what about. . .?" Douglas didn't let him finish the sentence. Instead, he backed away and motioned Cranshaw forward.
"You've bought Rayne time. . .Tremain is the greater evil, so I'll deal with him first. But your dear precept will pay for what he did to my family. He had a chance to do the right thing two years ago, and he blew it. He could have asked half a dozen people what happened that day. He didn't, and that tells me he doesn't deserve to be a precept," Douglas replied. He paused, before adding, "This is where it begins, Jonny boy. This is only the beginning, and when I'm finished with it, everyone will know what a joke the Legacy is. Then it can be rebuilt from the ground up. It can still be a force for good. . . if we get rid of the Legacy machines, and start concentrating on people. Good-bye. . .tell the devil 'hello' for me once you get to hell!" He nodded to Cranshaw, then walked away.
He didn't watch Crenshaw kill Jonathan Boyle. It wasn't necessary. He saw Crenshaw's handiwork in the past. It was what drew him to his partner in crime. After a few moments, Cranshaw said, "We should go. Others are coming. I can cast a glamor spell, so they believe you're both dead." Douglas needed no time to think about that. . .he bobbed his head, then the pair left the house. Yes, it was fitting for Douglas Barton to die on this day.
. . .
As Douglas Barton predicted, once it was established that his daughters knew nothing of his plans, the Legacy left them alone. And thanks to Cranshaw's help, he further protected his daughters when he made the Legacy believe he was dead. After finding the two dead bodies, Derek Rayne and Jane Witherspoon went to the nearest town for a coroner. While they were away, another body was found and used as a double for Douglas. The glamor spell was recast. . . by the time it wore off, the renegade precept was long gone.
But Douglas still had more work to do. He remained in San Francisco for another few days. . .he wanted to see this through to the end. And so, as Bryan Cranshaw stood behind one tree at Jonathan Boyle's funeral service, Douglas stood behind another. He listened with shocked amusement as Derek Rayne lauded his friend's commitment to making the world a better place. I should probably take him out next, Douglas thought in disgust, he's too stupid to live! Still, he was the lesser evil, and Tremain would be the next one to pay.
When he wasn't trying to fight back his nausea, he watched the boy Nick's face. The kid probably thought he was numb, but Douglas could see the combination of grief, relief, and rage play across the teenager's face. If he had any doubts about Nick Boyle being allowed to grow up in peace, they were gone. Douglas pushed himself away from the tree and headed back toward his car. He nodded to Cranshaw, who returned the nod with a faint smile.
He had one more thing to do, before he left for Europe. There was only one person whom he trusted to keep his secret. Oh, he knew he could trust Nathaniel, but Nathaniel would be needed to protect the girls. No, the only other person he could trust with this secret was Justin Adams. If only because he spent so much time in his lab, on digs. . .there was little chance he would tell Jane, or anyone else, the truth. In his car, Douglas dialed the home number for Justin Adams. On the second ring, a young girl's voice said breathlessly, "Adams residence, this is Kristen!" Douglas grinned. . .she sounded like Valerie when she answered the phone. The former Legacy precept knew Justin's daughter was younger than his Valerie, but she still reminded him of his daughter. She was still young. . .she still had that breathless way of talking, as if she couldn't get the words out fast enough.
"Hello, Kristen, my name is David Bartholomew, a friend of your father's. Is he around?" Douglas asked, using the assumed name he used in the past when he didn't want the entire Legacy knowing his business. It was ridiculously simple, but for some reason, the only people who ever figured it out were Nathaniel and Justin. Hmm. He never thought about that before, though perhaps he should have.
"Uhm, hold on a minute. . .Daddy! There's someone named David Bartholomew on the phone for you!" the girl called out, her voice rising to make herself heard over the din in the background. In a more normal tone, Kristen added, "Daddy's getting ready to leave, and Mom is helping him to pack. Ethan is asleep, that's why I answered the phone. He's really cranky if his nap is interrupted. Do you work with my father?"
"Yes, I do, Kristen, but I'm not a scientist like your father. However, my eldest daughter will be a scientist, an archaeologist. She's in college, and I have another daughter who is just about your age. A little older actually. . .she just turned fourteen," Douglas said. He was careful about what he said. If Tremain questioned Kristen at some point, he might realize too much from the information Douglas gave the girl.
"Oh, she's in high school! That's so neat. Here's my dad, Mr. Bartholomew, I gotta check on my brother. It was nice talking to you!" Kristen said, then Douglas heard the phone being exchanged. He heard his friend telling his daughter that it was time for Ethan to get up . .they would be leaving for the airport. Kristen replied okay, then skipped off. He knew this because he heard Maddy tell her to stop skipping in the house.
Then Justin said, "I hope to hell you know what you're doing, Bart. Everyone in the Legacy thinks you're dead. And that little Fury you raised won't let Tremain near your youngest." Douglas chuckled, sitting back in his seat. Oh, good girl, Valerie, he thought, smiling proudly, good for you! You've forgotten nothing! Justin added with some asperity, "It's not funny, dammit! You had Jane in tears with that story about Valerie being dead! You had something to do with Boyle's death, didn't you?"
Well, score one for our side, Douglas thought, but even though Justin knows, he'll never tell London. He knows what will happen to my girls. Even though he doesn't bother spending time with his family, he would never do anything to harm innocents. He told the other man, "I'm just calling you to let you know I am alive, Justin. And even if I did have something to do with that bastard's death, just think. . .what would you do to the monsters who took Claire? What would you do if someone harmed Ethan or Kristen? You just think about that. I'll do whatever I have to do to protect my children."
There was a long silence, then Douglas told his old friend, "And the only reason you know, the only reason I chose you, is because you're not in the States long enough to tell anyone. I chose you because I knew you would be leaving again. I want to trust Nathaniel, but I know he would tell my daughters that I'm still alive, to try to comfort them. And as long as they believe I'm dead, they're safe from the Legacy."
"Bart, you're talking as if the Legacy is the enemy. It's not! Yes, Tremain should have listened to Val! Yes, Derek Rayne screwed up monumentally. It's like Jane said when she called here after Boyle was killed. Val's an honest kid. Derek should have gotten all his facts before he made his decision. But for the sake of your children, you can't give up on the Legacy!" Justin pleaded. Douglas shook his head. No, that was out of the question.
"The Legacy gave up on me, Justin, not the other way around. The Legacy has become the enemy. Do you know why my wife was killed, Justin? It wasn't because she belonged to an unpopular faith. That was just the excuse. My wife died so that bastard Tremain could get his soft, pasty hands on my daughter. . .on my Valerie, so he could turn her into a weapon for the Legacy!" the man on the West Coast said.
There was a stunned silence from the other man. There was a stunned 'oh my god' from Justin, then more silence. At last, Justin whispered, "A weapon? I know Valerie has a version of the Sight, but you're not talking about that, are you?" Now, finally, Justin was starting to get the picture. There was a brief silence, and in the background, Douglas could hear Madeline calling for Kristen.
Kristen was doing something else. . .she was waking up her brother, but her mother wanted her right now. Douglas could almost imagine how disgruntled she felt. . . she was only twelve years old! She couldn't do two things at once! He was hearing Marissa in his mind when she was that age. Douglas said, "No. I'm not. Valerie has far more than the Sight, Justin. She is a mage. . .she inherited these abilities from both her mother and from me."
There was another long silence. Justin was thinking about this. Douglas knew his former roommate's silences. Justin finally said, "A mage in the Legacy. There can only be two ways for this to go, Douglas. Either she would be killed, because she was too dangerous, or she would be actively recruited. I don't envy her, having magick. Everything she would do would be under scrutiny and second-guessed."
"Tremain thought he could control me, with Deirdre dead. He thought I would roll right over and let him have Valerie. Not a chance. And now, she's got the entire Vancouver House looking out for her. You and I aren't so very different, old friend. You've buried yourself in your work, because of what happened to Claire. I'm burying myself, so nothing more happens to my daughters. Good-bye, Justin. You've been a good friend," Douglas said. Before Justin could say anything more, the former precept hung up. Douglas rested his head against the steering wheel, breathing deeply. He struck two low blows, by bringing up Claire, but he didn't know how else to get his point across.
After a moment, he slid the plastic sheeting over the car phone. Now the adrenaline was leaving him, and Douglas shook. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back. He would return to his hotel for his belongings, then he had a flight to catch. His first stop would be in Brussels. One thing at which Douglas always excelled was investigation. He was good at going back to the beginning, and putting the pieces together. What happened, in what order, and why did it happen?
He knocked over the first domino. Sir Edmund Tremain, of course, was next. But instead of attacking the man physically, he would attack the precept's reputation first. He would do that, by going to every House where Tremain served, from his first assignment. He would go through every old case, dig up every last bit of dirt. He would chip away at Tremain's reputation, bit by precious bit. That would be far more devastating. . .and far more satisfying. And when he dragged Tremain's name through the mud, the way Deirdre's and Valerie's names were. . .then, and only then, would he kill Tremain. Douglas again pictured the test that almost killed Valerie. This time, he remembered the expression on her face right before she passed out. That terrified, 'what have I done' look. That would be the expression on Tremain's face before it was all over. Douglas would see to that.
. . .
Justin Adams slowly replaced the receiver in the cradle, disturbed by his conversation with his college roommate. His wife was still packing his belongings, and Madeline always shooed him from the room when she was packing for him, so Justin went into his son's room. Evidently, she and Kristen worked out whatever Madeline wanted her to do. That was good. Justin was glad about that. Mothers and daughters should cherish each other. And after his conversation with Douglas Barton, he needed to be with his children.
There was a part of him that wanted to leave the Legacy immediately. Take Maddy, Ethan, and Kristen, and disappear. Change their names, and just. . .go. In light of what Bart told him, Justin's faith in the Legacy was badly shaken. A woman was killed, so an unscrupulous man could have access to her daughter. Her young, innocent daughter with a power she didn't understand and likely didn't want. A good woman died two years earlier, a loving wife and mother. Justin closed his eyes. How would he have felt if it was Madeline who died, protecting their babies? What if the people who took Claire years earlier killed Madeline in the process? A bone-chilling rage swept through Justin's body, stealing his breath. He would have killed that person, or persons, even if it ended his own life to do so.
And ironically, it was the thought of Claire that reminded him why he didn't leave the Legacy. It gave him a purpose after he lost his daughter. Both he and Maddy lost Claire, of course. But Justin nearly went insane with grief. He almost destroyed his marriage. Maddy mourned, just as he did. But she turned her remaining energy toward taking care of Kristen, and making sure their remaining daughter would be safe. And the Legacy saved his sanity. 'Do you want to make sure that what happened to your family never happens again? We can't promise never, but we can promise you that you can spare at least one family that heartbreak. Let us in, Justin,' they told him when they could finally gain admittance to his home, 'let us help you, because the Legacy is a family as well. You know that. Let us help you.' And in agreeing, he began saving his own soul.
Many times over the years, especially after Ethan was born and Justin began working more and more on the project, Bart would accuse Justin of using his Grail quest to shield him from the pain of losing Claire. That was a half-truth. Typical of Bart. Right church, as Maddy liked to say, but wrong pew. The truth that Justin could only admit to himself was this: his Grail quest was his way of atoning. If he found the Grail, then maybe he was worthy enough to have Claire returned if she was still alive. Naive? Of course. But Claire's body was never found, and so long as no body was found, there was a chance his daughter was alive. A slim chance, perhaps, but a chance nonetheless. Justin could not bear to lose that last strand of hope. But for the first time, he wondered if he was better served to show his worth by spending more time with his two remaining children. . .his five year old son and his twelve year old daughter. His Kristen, a living, breathing reminder of the lost child.
Every time he looked at Kristen, he wondered what Claire would have been like. Would she have smiled as often as Kristen did? Would her blue eyes have lit up with mischief whenever she tickled Ethan? Would she and Kristen have been partners in crime? Kristen was a little on the shy side. She could be bossy, though Maddy swore that came from being Mama's helper. Justin acknowledged the barb. Kristen was helping to raise Ethan. A twelve year old girl was doing Justin's job for him.
One day, he promised himself and his children, one day I'll come home to stay. One day, my wandering and my research and my digs will be over. One day, I'll be a father whom you both can be proud of. One day, I'll never leave again. He didn't know when that day would come. A part of him feared that it would come too late. . .that he would come back one day, and find both of his children grown. . .fully independent and no longer needing him. That was a very real fear for him. And yet. . .and yet. . .and yet. . .he couldn't give up his search.
Kristen was gently shaking her younger brother awake, teasing him with her long blonde hair. Justin's heart contracted. Bart's question came back to him yet again, about Claire's kidnapping. He thought about Deirdre's murder, and the revelation of Valerie's abilities. Just how far would he go for his children? What would he do if he ever caught the monsters who stole Claire from them? What would he do if someone ever hurt Kristen or Ethan? Kristen looked up at that moment, her young face alight with laughter and mischief. God, she was so beautiful! It wouldn't have surprised Justin at all to find out that this was one of the last things Douglas told his own daughter before leaving his House forever. She wasn't awake to hear it, but the words were said nonetheless. His own daughter was only two years younger than Valerie, Justin remembered, and the same age Valerie was when her mother was taken from her. What more would be taken from his little girl, before it was all over?
"Daddy? Is everything all right?" Kristen asked softly, her laughter dying away, giving way to concern. Justin could only stare at his beautiful young daughter. Kristen, Claire, Valerie. The three names ran together, and Justin knew what he would do in Douglas Barton's position. The exact same thing. He would even destroy the Legacy, if it came to that. Justin went to his daughter and enfolded her in his arms. For this moment in time, all he wanted was to hold her. If he gave his daughter nothing else, he would give her this .
"Everything's fine, princess. I was just thinking about how very lucky I am to have you and Ethan. I love you so much, Kristen. So very much," Justin replied, kissing her white-blonde hair. Kristen snuggled closer, still young enough to happily accept hugs from either parent. But she was growing up too fast. They always grew up too fast, and his mind once more returned to another young girl who grew up too fast. Justin murmured, "I was just got off the phone with my old friend, Bart, honey. He told you about his daughter, didn't he? About Valerie?" He felt Kristen nod against his chest, and Justin continued, "I was just thinking that I hope your life is much different from hers. . .much better. She lost her mother, and almost died, when she was your age." She's only fourteen, and she's almost died twice.
"Daddy, do you think I'll ever meet Valerie?" Kristen asked, pulling back to look at him. Her pale hair fell away from her face. Justin cupped her cheeks in his hands, kissing her forehead, which drew a delighted grin. Justin smiled back at her and nodded. Yes, he thought she would. Kristen's expression grew more serious as she added thoughtfully, "Good. If I do, I'll be her friend, Daddy. She needs friends, doesn't she?"
"Yes, sweetheart, she does," Justin replied. Kristen was reserved with anyone she didn't know. Maybe he and Maddy caused that. Maybe they taught her to distrust anyone who didn't seem familiar to her. It came back to Claire once more. With those whom she knew and trusted, Kristen could be warm and funny and sweet. She also protected with a ferociousness that sometimes stunned both parents.
Knowing that, Justin said softly, "You become her friend, Kristen. You take care of her, the way you take care of your mother and brother. Promise me that. Promise me you'll take care of her, that you'll protect her. I have a feeling she'll need all the help she can get." Justin wasn't as worried about Marissa or Kerry. Kerry was too young to remember what went before. She was just a baby. Marissa could hold her own. And Marissa wasn't the one for whom a Legacy assassin killed a Legacy member.
That alone made Valerie extremely vulnerable, more than either of her two sisters. She would need Kristen. She would need a friend, for whatever lay ahead. Justin's daughter said now softly, surely, "I promise, Daddy. I'll do whatever I can to help her. It would be horrible if I ever lost you or Mom." Justin hugged his daughter again. He knew she would keep her promise. Kristen always kept her promises.
Even after death.
. . .
"Jonathan Boyle is dead."
Valerie Barton turned to look at the owner of the voice. She was sitting on the stone steps leading from the back of the House to the gardens. It was now almost a week since her father's disappearance, and days since the confrontation with the Ruling House. Dallas Wentworth was installed as the temporary precept, at the insistence of Angelyne D'Arcy, the woman who came to the aid of Vancouver House during the confrontation.
And now, Valerie was looking at her sister, who just told her Jonathan Boyle was alive. Marissa arrived the day after the members of London House, and immediately began working with Dallas. The sisters stared at each other for several silent moments, as they allowed the words to settle. Jonathan Boyle was dead. Said in the same tone that Marissa would have used to announce that Kerry was asleep. It wasn't until Marissa was seated on the stone step beside her that Valerie finally spoke. It wasn't until Marissa's arm wound around her shoulders that the teenager felt secure enough to ask, "Why don't I feel anything, Riss? I always thought I would feel something when that man died. But, I don't. For two years, I've prayed he would pay with his life, I've prayed that he would pay for what he did to us."
Marissa didn't answer at first. She kissed the back of Valerie's head, tightening her arms, and finally replied, "That bastard's death won't bring Mom back. Nothing can. And I've decided over the last two years, that she still lives on in us. As long as we remember her, and what she taught us, she won't ever die. But he did pay for what he did to her, and no more moms and daughters will be separated because of him."
Valerie thought about that. Her sister was right. There was a part of her, a naive, innocent, child-like part of her, that hoped Jonathan Boyle's death would restore the balance in her life. It hoped that his death really would bring her mother back to life. But the rest of her knew the truth. Nothing would do that. Nothing could do that. Not even the death of the animal that killed her. So where did she find meaning in this whole situation? Her mother was gone. Her father was gone. . .he was likely the one who killed Jonathan Boyle. She would probably never see him again. Where was the meaning, where was the truth, where was the point in this whole mess?
Was Marissa right about the other thing? That she found comfort in knowing no other girl like herself would go through what she was feeling right now? No other girl would feel this grief, this numbness, this emptiness? She asked, staring up at the night sky, "Riss? Did Jonathan Boyle have any kids?" Now both of her sister's arms were around her, and Val felt her older sister's chin against the top of her head.
"Yeah. Two. Two boys. James and Nicholas. . .Jimmy and Nick," Riss answered in a low voice. Valerie considered that. Two boys. As if hearing her thoughts, Riss continued, "Jimmy is the older by about seven or eight years. Not entirely sure. Nick is fifteen. He'll never hurt either of those boys again. Never strike them again. Never again treat them as if they're worthless." Val's lower lip trembled.
She shivered, and yet again, Riss tightened her arms around her. The younger sister whispered, "That's it, then. He can't hurt people any more. He can't hurt us. Now there's just Tremain and the other one. What happens next, Mel? If Dad's alive, do you think he's the one who killed Jonathan Boyle?" She didn't know why she added, 'if he's alive.' It just slipped out, and Val realized with a shock that she was actually considering the possibility that he was dead.
"They found two bodies. . .Jonathan Boyle and Dad's. But I don't think Dad's dead. Don't ask me to explain. . .I just don't think he's dead," Riss answered. She paused, then she added softly, "I'm not a mage like you, Val. But back when Kerry was born. . .I felt it when Mom died. I'd feel it if Dad died. He isn't dead. He's just pretending to be dead, to make sure the Legacy leaves us alone." That was something Valerie could accept. Sort of. Riss continued after a moment, "As for what's next. . .Dad will go after both of the others. My gut tells me that he'll go after Tremain last, but it's hard to say. I don't know what he'll do to them. I don't want to know, and I don't care. I only care about you and Kerry now. I've talked to Dallas. . .actually, he talked me out of leaving college, and coming home to take care of you and Kerry. He told me that he and the others would take care of you."
So Marissa would stay in college. That was good. Valerie had no idea what she would do. Keep up with her own classes. Take care of Kerry. Beyond that, she had no idea. Marissa continued after a moment, "That's not entirely true. I know what I'm doing. I'm going back to college, once Uncle Nathaniel gets here. And then I'll start taking my own retaliation for what those other two did."
She never called them by name, not if she didn't have to. Most of the time, she didn't have to. 'The other two.' Boyle was dead. He couldn't hurt anyone any more. There wouldn't be any more twelve year old girls fighting for their lives because of one of his beatings. And then the rest of the sentence sank into her brain. Valerie stiffened ever so slightly, fearing now for her older sister, but Riss added softly, "I won't kill Rayne. There are more than one ways of hurting someone, little sister. And I won't kill what remaining family he has. It's not really their fault he's such a bastard. But hurt him I will. I'll rob him of his family, just as he robbed me of mine. Maybe I'll turn his mother or sister against him. I don't know. But I want him to regret ever sending Jonathan Boyle to New Mexico two years ago."
Valerie relaxed. She said softly, "I don't know what I'll do, Riss. I hate the Legacy. I hate what it did to Mom, what it did to Dad, what it's done to us. I hate the idea of working with anyone like Jonathan Boyle or Derek Rayne. I hate the idea I might become like Winston Rayne or Edmund Tremain. It scares me, Riss. I've never hated anyone so much in my life, as I've hated in the last two years. I hate that most of all. I hate the way it makes me feel."
"That's good, baby girl. Because as long as you've got that, you'll never become like any of those men," Marissa encouraged her. Valerie tried to track that. For all that she was a bright, gifted girl, for all that she was more mature than most teenagers, she was still just a child who was grieving for her parents. She was still grieving for the loss of an entire world that seemed so stable until two years ago. Riss continued after a moment, "As long as you fight that sick feeling, the one that feels like battery acid is eating up your soul. . .you'll be okay. 'Cause that means you've still got your soul, and you haven't sold it to the Legacy. As for what you'll do. Just keep doing what you have been. It's what Mom would have wanted. If you turn away from that path now, then Rayne and Boyle and Tremain. . .they've won."
Valerie's voice caught on a sob as she replied, "But sis, that's the whole thing. I feel like they've already won, that I've already let Mom down. I want to kill them, Marissa! I want to dig up Boyle and kill him all over again, I want to torture the other two to death. They've already won!" Now Marissa released her, just long enough to grasp her shoulders and turn Valerie to face her.
"No," Marissa replied quietly, forcefully, "no, they have not. They have not won, because you're still my little sister, you're still Valerie Barton. Oh baby, of course you want to kill them, it's only natural! They tore your family apart, and they're not finished yet. But I'll tell you the same thing Mom told me years ago, when I questioned why she remained in the Legacy, when there were people like Rayne and Boyle and Tremain."
She wiped away a tear tenderly with one thumb, then continued, "She told me that people like that did make her life difficult. But as long as she remained in the Legacy, she could still make a difference. If she left because of those three, the circle of protectors would diminish. The circle would diminish, and the darkness would find more ways in. And that's why you have to stay on your path. Leave the revenge to me and Dad. We're better at it. . .we're avengers, we're enforcers. But you. . .you're a protector. And you are gonna make such a great precept when you're grown up, Val. You've already lived more than most people do in a life time, you've already lost and stumbled and gotten back up!"
She cupped Valerie's face in her hands now, her dark eyes shining with love and pride and conviction. Valerie swallowed hard, seeing that there. She already knew that Riss loved her, that her sister was proud of her. But what surprised her was the conviction. Riss also believed in her. She whispered, "I can't do it alone. Will you help me?" Riss gave a muffled sound that might have been a sob or a laugh.
"Sweetheart, wild horses couldn't keep me away from your side. I promise you. After I graduate from college, only death will separate us again. We're gonna turn the Legacy on its ear, babe. We're the Barton girls, Valerie, and nothing can stop us!" Riss whispered, holding her close. On that night, two years to the day after Boyle came to her hospital room to threaten her father, Valerie heard the ferocity in her sister's voice, and heard the truth. They could do this together, she and Riss. They could make sure there were no more men like Jonathan Boyle killing women like Deirdre Barton. They could and they would.
. . .
It seemed as if that was the final barrier to be crossed. As Riss swore that they would carry on their mother's dreams, that they would make sure something like this never happened again, Val finally broke down sobbing. It was a long time coming. She held herself together through Kerry's wails after they realized Dad wasn't coming home. And her little sister held herself together when Edmund Tremain showed up, the Spanish Inquisition of the late twentieth century. She held herself together even knowing that if their father lived, he would now be considered a traitor to the Legacy.
This was a long time coming, and Marissa rocked her from side to side. Tears streamed down her own face, and she made no attempt to offer her sister soothing nonsense. She looked up as a shadow approached them both. It was the woman who insisted that Dallas Wentworth take over temporarily as the precept and supported Vancouver House during the confrontation. Marissa was sorry she missed that. The members of Vancouver House told her that her little sister was a sight to behold.
And miles away from the teenaged girl now curled up in Marissa's arms, attired in sweats. Riss wished one of the Vancouver members had the presence of mind to snap a picture of her little sister during that confrontation. Maybe one of the London House members did. D'Arcy. Angelyne D'Arcy. Marissa remembered her name now. How could you forget a name like that, especially when it was so close to 'Angelique,' her favorite character in 'Dark Shadows.' Marissa watched 'Dark Shadows' with her mother when she was a child. This, of course, was before the advent of VCR's in the rest of the world. As ever, the Legacy was at least fifteen to twenty years ahead of the rest of the world in terms of technology.
But the Legacy did have machines that were very similar, a way to play back footage from a security camera. While they were living in Greece, 'Dark Shadows' was rerunning some of their older shows on Greek tv with Greek subtitles. When possible, Marissa watched the show with her mother. . .and when they missed it for some reason, one of the other members of the House, Phaedra Costas, would wire the television and the video playback machine together. When they returned home, they found that day's episode waiting for them.
"How are you girls?" Angelyne asked quietly, her eyes flickering from one girl to the other. Val turned her face away from Marissa's shirt, offering the senior Legacy member a weak, teary-eyed smile. Angelyne reached out and gently brushed away Val's tears with one hand, whispering, "If I didn't tell you this sooner, I do apologize. Things have been hectic for us all. But I am sorry about your mother's death."
"Thank you," Marissa replied quietly, rubbing her hand up and down Val's arm. She needed this, the college student realized, she needed this contact as much as her sister did. Needed the contact, the warmth, needed to reassure herself that she still had her younger sister. Riss continued after a moment, "What happens now? I mean for Vancouver House, for us. . . what happens now?"
"For now, Dallas Wentworth will remain the precept of Vancouver House. If I can, I'll make sure he gets the permanent appointment. Sir Edmund may be the precept of the Ruling House, but there is also the Ruling Council to consider. I want you both to realize. The case around your mother's murder will be reopened, but I wouldn't hold my breath, waiting for any real action to be taken. I believe you, when you say Boyle and Sir Edmund are responsible for your mother's death, and I also think the Ruling Council will believe you. But, as to Sir Edmund being relieved of his post. . ." Angelyne said.
"Don't hold our breaths, 'cause it ain't gonna happen any time soon," Riss said flatly. Angelyne hesitated slightly, then shook her head in acknowledgment. Riss continued, "So. . .how is it that you have power in the Legacy? If you've got the power to make or break a precept. . .I mean, I know that there are no female Legacy precepts right now. That they aren't figuring on any female precepts for another ten years. So. . ."
"That's one of the things I'll try to get. Like I said. The Ruling Council probably won't do anything about your mother's death. Boyle is dead, he's the one who launched the attack. And your father's disappeared. So. . .they'll give us something else, as appeasement. Or, to put it more bluntly, they'll buy us off. It won't bring your mother back, it won't provide any balance, but I think the best thing we can do is accept whatever they offer," Angelyne replied.
She paused, then continued, "After I forced Sir Edmund to tell me what your sister meant about his own past sins, the Ruling Council appointed me as your. . . advocate. I'm asking for three things. First and foremost. . .they will open the Legacy preceptry to women ten years ahead of schedule. Well, aside from the Irish Houses, because they've had women precepts for years. One of the boons of being an Irish female." Both girls laughed at that, and Angelyne smiled impishly. Riss wondered if her mother was of Irish extraction, as Deirdre Barton had been.
"With that, I'll ask to be named as a precept. Once Valerie joins the Legacy, I'll ask that both of you be assigned to my House. That way, I can protect you, at least until it's time for Valerie to receive her own House. And you will be a precept, Valerie, of that I can assure you. The seal has been broken on your test, and the Ruling Council liked what they saw. It impresses them that you're still alive, and that, above all else, proves that you should be a Legacy precept," Angelyne explained.
At the mention of the test, Val shuddered and Riss explained quietly, "My sister doesn't remember the test. She has no memory of that day. . .of that entire week." Angelyne nodded, reaching over to caress the back of Val's head. Riss kissed her sister's curls, murmuring, "Honey, why don't you go to bed? It's been a long week, and I know you haven't been sleeping well lately."
Valerie yawned and replied, "I suppose I'd have no credibility if I told you that I wasn't sleepy, would I?" Riss shook her head with a wry Marissa's cheek, and the college student let her rise to her feet. Val said, holding her hand out to Angelyne, "Thank you, Miss D'Arcy, for everything. I know you'll do your best for us."
"I certainly will, my dear girl. Sleep well," Angelyne replied, squeezing the teen's hand gently. Valerie smiled at them both, then made her way inside. The two remaining on the stone steps were silent for several moments, then Angelyne asked, "So. What are your plans for revenge, my dear girl?" Riss looked at the older woman quickly, and Angelyne continued, "Please, don't insult my intelligence. I know you want revenge, Marissa. For your sisters, for your mother, for that evil test conducted on your sister."
"This is just between us?" Riss asked slowly and Angelyne nodded. Satisfied, Marissa continued, "Dad's taken out Boyle. That's my gut feeling. He'll go after Rayne and Tremain next. I don't know who will be next of those two. If he'll take out Rayne first, and save Tremain for last. But I plan on dealing with those two in my own way. I want them to understand what they did. They took a part of my family from me, and now, I want to return the favor. I just haven't decided how I'll do that."
"Would you like some help?" Angelyne offered. Riss looked at the woman suspiciously. Why would she help them? Why would she want to do anything more, more than she already did for their family? Angelyne replied, "I know what you're thinking. Why would I help you? I've done so much already, as much as anyone can in this awful situation. But there is more I can do, more I want to do."
She added, "And why would I want to help you? Simple. Because I know what it's like, losing someone I love. I know what it's like, to lose someone to the Legacy. I know what it's like to want revenge, and never get it. I can help you. I want to help you. I can give you ideas. You want Derek Rayne and Edmund Tremain to have a taste of what they've done to you and your family? I can help with that." Marissa stared at the other woman for a long time, trying to make her decision.
Finally, she said, "Because by helping me, you'll be getting your own revenge. Against someone who hurt you." Angelyne inclined her head in agreement. Marissa thought about it, adding that into the equation. At last, she replied, "All right. I may be making a deal with the devil, but I have a feeling I won't be the first member of this family to do that. I'll help you with your revenge, and you can help me with mine."
Angelyne D'Arcy smiled broadly and replied, "You aren't making a deal with the devil. We're making the Legacy a better organization. I won't betray you, or your sisters. The Legacy has betrayed you girls enough. It ends here, and it ends tonight." She offered Marissa her hand, and the eldest Barton daughter took it. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do. . .but if it was, why did it feel so very right?