Chapter Thirty-Nine: Wednesday, January 4, 2006, New York (Below)
Vincent sat, slumped over, half-asleep in his favorite chair. Though the red velvet had long ago been replaced with more contemporary upholstery, it was still comfortable. It was still the chair where Elliot had rested, when he was shot, so many years ago, because he refused to betray their friendship. Their trust. It was the chair Catherine had sat and nursed their children. It was the chair Vincent had sat on so many occasions, reading to them—and to so many other children. It was the chair where Catherine still sat on his lap, while they read together from their favorite books. Shelly. Kipling. Melville. Contemporary authors, introduced to them from the world Above by friends and Helpers.
Now it was Labyrinth that lay across his chest; Janelle was curled up in his lap, snoring lightly. Beth sat on a cushion at his feet, half asleep, her head resting on her father's knee, his hand on her head, the other circled protectively around Janelle. Caroline lay in his and Catherine's bed, tangled up in the covers; Charles and Christopher lay with her. It was nearly lunchtime, but it had been a long and difficult night; Vincent didn't begrudge his children for napping, especially when he, himself, had dozed off a time or two.
Jake sat vigil, with his back against the side of the bed, reading an Anne Rice novel, his headphones on. Although he had the music turned to a somewhat respectable volume, Vincent recognized a band Jake had called as Nine Inch Nails. He wasn't particularly fond of their music, but it brought comfort to his eldest son.
Soft footfalls, too quiet and small to be Catherine, approached the chamber—and a moment later, Lauren entered. Vincent smiled at her, at almost the same instant Jake looked up from his novel. He clicked off his music and took off his headphones.
"What news?" Vincent asked softly. They'd received word that Elliot was out of surgery and indeed, Vincent could feel Elliot's strength returning, if only by the tiniest of increments. He sensed Catherine's relief, her hope. Her faith.
Her strength, even in the face of so much danger.
"Elliot still hasn't woken up," Lauren told them. "They won't let me see him yet." She sounded angry and frustrated. Afraid.
Vincent opened his arm out to her, and Lauren climbed up onto the arm of the chair carefully, so as not to disturb Janelle, but so that he could pull her gently into his embrace. She laid her head on his shoulder. "Cathy says I can probably see him in a few days. She came out to talk to my Uncle Vincent and Uncle Peter when they got there. Aunt Jillian is still in Hartford."
Vincent had heard tales of Jillian and powder blue brides maids dresses. He pressed a soft kiss to Lauren's temple. "And how are you?" he asked.
Lauren sagged against him. Vincent suspected he was among the first to ask her that. "Angry," she told him. Lauren shifted so she could look at him more fully. "Why did somebody do this? I heard she was dead, now but…." Lauren shook her head and snuggled back in close. "Why, Vincent?"
"That is a difficult question to answer, even for adults."
"It's like…like a few years ago when some guy was stalking my mom."
"Your mother had a stalker?" Vincent asked. He had not heard that story.
"She doesn't like to talk about it. It was some guy from her court, I guess. He's dead, too. Eric…Eric Black. He was our friend. He killed the Jason. The stalker guy," she clarified. "He went on trial. He almost went to jail. He only did it to protect us."
"It sounds as if this Eric Black loved your family a great deal."
She nodded against his shoulder.
"What happened to him?"
"I don't know. He…ran away. That's all Mom would ever tell me. I…I haven't asked her about it in a long time, because every time I did, it was the same answer." She looked up at Vincent again, and he saw the tears in her eyes. "He saved us, then he ran away."
"No one is going to run away from you now."
"Promise?"
"You have my word, Lauren. I cannot speculate as to why this young man felt compelled to run. The world Above can be harsh and frightening. But here, we have a safe place. A shelter."
Jake pulled himself up off the floor and placed a hand on Lauren's shoulder. "We're not going anywhere," he echoed his father's words. Then, "How's Simon, do you know?"
"He's good. He came in and sat with us for a while last night. His dad came in too."
Janelle stirred and looked groggily up at Lauren. "Is everybody okay?"
"Everyone is fine," Jake told her, even as Lauren nodded.
"Elliot's out of surgery," Lauren told her. "He's going to be fine. It'll take a while," she said, "But I'm sure he'll be down as soon as he can."
"He is resilient," Vincent promised his youngest child. "And he has our love to carry him through this." He glanced over at Caroline, wondering if their love would be enough to carry her though, as well. Though she had come, mostly, back to herself—back to them—after they got her settled down enough to let Father tend her wounds last night, Vincent still felt the restlessness in her, the anger boiling just below the surface. He recalled the moments of near-peace, the respites from the turmoil of his own periods of darkness. How many times must Father and Mary thought he was finally out of the woods, only to have him lash out again, a danger not only to those who loved him, but to himself as well.
Beth had stirred. She stood and laid a hand lightly on Lauren's shoulder—then she held it out to her little sister. "Come on, let's see if William needs help in the kitchen."
Janelle slid out of her father's lap and took it.
"How's Caroline?" Lauren asked.
"She's tough," Jake answered, before Vincent could. "She'll be up and around in a day or two."
Lauren nodded. She glanced over at the bed—and Christopher stirred. He cracked open one eye—then the other, seemingly the moment he realized Lauren was there.
She slid off the arm of the chair; he untangled himself carefully from the blanket and his siblings and crawled out of bed.
Vincent hid his smile, watching the way Lauren and Christopher met one another in the middle of the room, each coming to an awkward halt just a few inches from the other, shy uncertainty underlying the growing affection between them. An affection he was fairly certain they were unaware anyone else had noticed. He caught Jake's half-hidden smile as well. So much separated him from his eldest son these days—and yet so much drew them together.
"I'm going to see if there's anything to be scavenged in the kitchen," Jake announced, his tone casual. "Lauren, Chris, you two want to come with?"
Lauren nodded; so did Christopher. Heat seemed to have risen in both of their cheeks.
Before leaving, Jake leaned over the bed and nudged Charles into wakefulness. "Come on," he whispered. "Let's go get some lunch."
Charles gave a groggy nod and crawled carefully out of bed.
As Vincent watched them go, it was hard not to marvel at the life he and Catherine had found for themselves, their children. Their friends.
Our family.
He sat on the bed and stroked Caroline's forehead, brushing a strand of hair off her face.
"Father?"
"I did not mean to wake you."
"It's okay." She winced as she sat up. "Just the stitches," she said, before he could ask. "Where is everyone?"
"Off to get something to eat. Lauren came down. Elliot is out of surgery and doing well."
"Simon?" she asked.
"He is also well."
"I need to see him."
"No."
"Father—"
"I know you feel better now, but it may not last."
She hugged one of his pillows close to her chest. I lost control last night, that's all. It won't happen again."
"There is still turmoil within you. I can feel it."
"There is always turmoil within me, Father."
He tiled his head, surprised. Concerned. "Always?"
"For the last few years. Ever since menses." There were no taboo subjects in their family, and no shame in that which was natural. "It…it hasn't been constant, but it has been there. Sometimes a scent will hit me and be so sharp it's almost painful. Sometimes sounds are so overwhelming I can't think, even when I know it's just the noise of a crowded room. I'm sorry I snapped at Mary last night."
"She knows it wasn't your fault. We all know," he added.
"I'm sorry…I'm sorry I didn't show you and Mother that note sooner or tell you about the problems I've been having at school or…or tell you about how sometimes I just feel so angry, so…overwhelmed I can barely stand it."
"Caroline." He took her hands gently into his. "None of the things that happened last night are your fault and no one blames you for that over which you have no control. I wish I knew what it was about my heritage that brings about this…this darkness. What Jake went through seemed so mild compared to my own teenaged years, I had hoped that perhaps the rest of you would be spared."
She nodded.
"Do you recall what happened on the rooftop last night? Do you know what drew you there?"
Caroline shook her head. She held his hands tighter. "After Simon was shot, I felt…everything. It was like every nerve was aflame with awareness. Sights. Sounds. Feelings. I sensed his mother's fear—her suspicion—as clearly as if it were my own. I felt Matt's anguish—and then his relief, when Kate brought Sarah home. I…I could smell death, still clinging to her. I knew I had to do something, I had to stop it before…before it claimed anyone else."
He wiped the moisture from her cheeks.
"I ran. I just…I ran. I didn't know where I was going until I got there, and by then it was too late."
"Elliot will recover."
Caroline nodded. She shuddered. "I can still remember the way…the way everything smelled. The taste of blood hanging in the air." She looked up at him. "What was it like for you?"
"It was a world distorted. Music that I loved so much sounded twisted, your mother always so radiant and beautiful…I could hardly see her through the haze that shrouded my senses. I did not recognize your grandfather when he came to me. I lashed out and hurt my dearest friends when they tried to stop me from going Above."
Caroline crumpled against him, burying her face against his chest.
Vincent held her, helpless to ease her pain. Her fear. All he could do was remind her that it was temporary. "It passed," he told her. "It was a difficult time for everyone, but it passed."
"I can't go Above like this," she sobbed. "I can't…. I can't trust myself not to hurt…."
Simon.
She didn't have to say his name for Vincent to understand.
"Neither of you will be alone," he promised. "Your mother and I will be here. Jake will stand by your side as Devin stood by mine when I was young. He will stand with you, too. He has already pledged that he will remain until the darkness has passed. You have Father and Mary. Your other bothers and sisters. And Simon will have Samantha and Zach. He has Kip. Your mother will visit him, as will Devin, and Joel, and Peter Alcott."
She sucked in a ragged breath. "I…I can't feel him. I had such a sense of him from the very first moment we met. It…it wasn't like what I feel for you and Mother or what you must feel for one another, or even quite like the sense I have of my brothers and sisters, but it was there. I felt him. I knew what he was feeling, when he was afraid—when he was happy. Only now it's gone and I…I'm afraid I'll never feel him again."
"I lost sense of your mother during each pregnancy."
"I'm not pregnant, Father. We…haven't….he's never even kissed me properly."
He wiped another rivulet of tears from her cheeks. "You will have time enough for kissing. I can promise you that, even if I cannot promise your sense of him will return, though I believe that it will."
"Every other sense is sharpened to a razor's edge and yet the one thing I want—I need to feel is… it's dead."
"Perhaps it only slumbers and when the darkness passes, it will waken to life again."
