A/N: Wow! goes to the reviews and here's to hoping this one meets your satisfaction once again. Both me and my co-writer thank you all!
The first thing Mac became aware of as he regained consciousness was the pounding headache that threatened to take his head off of his neck. He groaned involuntarily and raised a hand to his aching temple. The second thing he became aware of was the fact that he had a dry mouth.
"Here, my son, drink this. It will help you," came a gentle masculine voice. A hand slid under his head and gently lifted his head before placing a cup against his lips. Cool water teased his lips and he drank his fill before lying back down.
"Rest a moment, my son, and I will return momentarily," came the voice again and Mac nodded, trying to regain his senses. A shuffling sound reached his ears and he knew his visitor had left him. After a moment of taking mental stock of everything, including the last thing he'd seen which had been the glowing red eyes, he carefully opened his eyes.
He blinked.
And blinked again, not sure of what he was seeing.
The sight that greeted him was one he'd never seen before, certainly not in New York; high above him, natural crystal formations shone from stalactites and flowed into the wall near him. As he looked around, his curiosity growing, he felt his eyes widening in wonder and his breath catching in awe.
Nearby, crystal and limestone-covered stalagmites jutted proudly from the cavern floor, while the cathedral-like ceiling seemed to be covered with hundreds of thousands of crystals and stalactites that seemed to shine with an unearthly light of their own. Nearby, he could hear the steady drip-drip of water as the earth continued to make the cavern. Even as the scientific part of his mind calculated and named everything he was seeing, the wistful, fanciful part of his mind started taking over and his heart started whispering in awe.
For a moment he could swear he heard what looked like singing, the kind of low, gentle murmur of a choir that one would expect to hear in an ancient place of glory, the kind that came from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
It was as if Nature had conspired with God to create this place, a sacred place of wonder, far below the earth, safe from prying eyes and grabbing hands, a place where only the truest and brightest of hearts could come here, and for a moment feel safe from all the troubles and terrors of the world.
And sacred was how it felt to Mac, as if he had just stepped in to a place that was the holiest of holies. Even his gun, which was back in its usual place, felt wrong and out of place in such a holy place and he felt almost ashamed of the fact that he had the weapon with him in the first place.
As he continued to look around at this beautiful, natural wonder, something caught his eye; a shield that looked like it had gone through Hell and back.
It hung above what looked like a natural ledge formation that created a kind of an altar, and was held in place by what looked like a simple wooden cross. Curious, Mac got up from the simple army cot he had been laying on and carefully made his way towards the altar.
The shield was somewhat small, simple but old, in a curved kite shape that was a common medieval style. A cross had been beautifully etched in to the metal and the shield gleamed despite the numerous dents and slashes in it. Mac's trained eye spotted what looked like dried blood and realized the shield and its owner had probably taken a heck of a beating. In his mind, he could almost hear the sounds of battle as the unknown knight fought with his enemy.
Then he spotted something written in what looked like Latin below the shield.
"Illi quisnam venit pro, illi quisnam es, quod illi quisnam mos."
Unfortunately, aside from scientific purposes, his Latin was pretty rusty. Underneath the shield and the words were dozens of lit tealight candles in various holders, all with what looked like female names on the holders. The light from the candles cast a warm glow on the shield, further emphasizing the peacefulness of the cavern.
A gentle shuffling noise caught his attention and he looked around, spotting what looked like an elderly man in a long brown robe carefully making his way towards him, a steaming stoneware cup in his rheumatoid arthritic-stricken hands. A white collar peeked out from the top of the robe but he wore no cross or other ornamental jewelry to suggest what religious sect he belonged to. A neatly trimmed white beard, white hair, and kind blue eyes looked from an aged face that clearly had many years on it.
He smiled at Mac and said, "For those who came before, for those who are, and for those who will." When Mac blinked in confusion, he smiled again and said, "That is the translation of the words you were studying. Here, drink this; it will help you."
Mac accepted the cup and took a careful sip. A warm liquid flowed over his mouth and his brain struggled to process the various flavors as they crossed his tongue. Even as he drank, he felt his headache fading away and he blinked in amazement.
"Thank you, sir," Mac said, not sure what to call his companion but, for some reason, liking him instantly.
"I am Father Thomas. Welcome," he said.
"Thank you, Father. Where I am?"
Father Thomas smiled and said, "You are still within the city, but for a man of science, surely even you know that Mother Earth has her secrets and hides them well."
He thought about that and nodded. "And the tealights with the names on them?" he asked.
"In honor of those who have served and now rest," Father Thomas said, sadness in his eyes. "This is a sacred place, my son, a place of sanctuary, one of the few still left to the Children. I have been here many, many years and to my knowledge, you are the only one who was not of the Children to be brought here. Such an action is considered a great honor and a great privilege by one of the Children."
"What are the Children, Father?"
"They are the Children of the Light, those who are Called to stand against the Darkness. Once there was only one, but now there are many. They are the last line of defense humanity has against the Darkness and as long as they continue to fight, humanity has a chance. Sadly though, as their numbers have increased, so have the deaths," Father Thomas said.
"I don't understand," Mac said, hoping for more detail.
Father Thomas smiled kindly and patted Mac's shoulder. "There are some things and some mysteries, my son, that are best left alone. Should the Child who brought you here chose to tell you more, she will, but it will be by her choice, not yours."
"Well, who brought me here?"
"I did," came a familiar voice. It was Artie, and she was dressed in dark jeans, combat boots, turtleneck shirt, large leather jacket, gloves, and skullcap. Her dark look was completed by a dark scowl across her otherwise lovely face.
"Artie?" Mac asked, puzzled.
"Glad to see you up and moving and that your head is still firmly attached to your shoulders," she said sweetly. Then she walked right up to him and got right in his face. In a low, angry voice she hissed, "I brought you here to keep you safe, thanks to your stupid actions that damn near cost you your miserable life. Because this is a place of peace, I'll hold my tongue, but I'll warn you right now, you and I are going to have some words, Detective." Then she turned to Father Thomas and promptly did a complete turn-around in personality, becoming respectful and polite, almost affectionate. "Thank you for tending him, Father. Unfortunately I must ask two more favors of you."
Father Thomas put a hand on Artie's shoulder smiled and said, "Anything, my child. All you have to do is ask."
She smiled and said, "First, I must ask that you escort him to the surface. The night is not over and there is still business I must attend to."
"Gladly, child."
"Second, rest, Father, please. You have done much for us but there is bad trouble coming down, I can feel it, and you are going to need all the strength you can get when it happens, we will need you greatly when the time comes."
Father Thomas laughed gently and patted Artie's face with grandfatherly affection. "Fear not for me, my child, for I will be ready when the time comes. Be safe and be well."
Artie smiled again, cupping Father Thomas' hand in hers before nodding once. She shot Mac a dark look of warning and then left the cavern as quietly as she had come.
Still smiling, Father Thomas said to Mac, "Come, this way."
Mac was lead through a series of twisting paths that he tried desperately to remember, before finding himself outside. It was still nighttime and the sky was still clear but there were plenty of shadows where they were, making it hard for him to pick out any real landmark, one that could help him figure out where he was and help him remember where to go. In the distance he could hear the sounds of the city and deuced he must be somewhere in Central Park, near one of the many hills that dotted the area. It wouldn't take much for him to get home.
"Head west and you will find your way out of the park," Father Thomas said. Then he sighed heavily as he studied the sky. "It has been some time since I have seen the night sky."
"Why is that?" Mac asked.
"Because the night is dangerous, my son, as you surely know," Father Thomas chided gently, "especially for one as old as I am." Mac nodded, still trying to process all that had happened. "I part ways with you here but offer some advice that I pray you heed. The questions you ask will only lead you to places you are not meant to be and may never be able to return from, and in doing so you risk the lives and the secrecy of the Children, my son. While I know you are a man of science and an officer of the law, surely even you know there are some questions and some things best left alone."
"Are you telling me to quit asking questions about Artie?" Mac asked, raising an eyebrow and thinking that Father Thomas reminded him of Gandalf the White giving counsel to King Theodon in the movie Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers.
"About her and the Children."
"And if I chose to continue asking questions?"
"Then I assure you, Artie will resolve the issue, as she and the Children have done before. They, and others, guard their secrets carefully, for in doing so, guard their lives." There was a final certainty in the old man's eyes; one Mac wasn't quite sure what to make of.
"I'll take your advice under consideration," he finally said.
"That is all I ask. Now, I bid you good night and good luck." Father Thomas nodded once, and blended back in to the shadows.
Mac instantly reached for his flashlight, back in his pocket where it had been originally, and shone the light over the area Father Thomas had disappeared into. Damnit. He couldn't make out anything that suggested any kind of entrance, hidden or otherwise. Frustrated and tired, he decided this was one mystery that could wait until morning.