Chapter Four
One evening, Elliot was engrossed—as usual—in his study of the tunnel plans spread out on the table before him, when he suddenly stopped scribbling some notes and frowned. He had the strangest sensation in his head. A puzzled expression on his face, he looked up and tried to focus on the books arranged on the shelves and at the plan painted on the wall, but his eyes refused to work properly. The pencil he was holding, slipped from his fingers as the room faded out and he staggered backwards, feeling nauseous, groping for support.
Then, just as suddenly, it was gone and Elliot was left thinking he'd imagined the whole thing. Shaking his head, he walked back to the table and picked up his pencil again to continue his work, dismissing the whole incident.
Unfortunately, he was not going to be allowed to forget it that easily, because it happened again the next day; twice. Just a fleeting occurrence, but there, nonetheless. Elliot wondered if he was beginning to sicken for something, but kept quiet. Hell, hadn't he been through enough, without getting sick!
In an attempt to work this supposed illness out of his system, he threw himself into some hard manual labour, helping Vincent and Cullen with some heavy timber supports for a section of weakened tunnel.
"It's all right, Elliot, we always do it like this," Cullen said, trying to reassure the architect, but Elliot looked dubious.
"I don't know..." he began. "Vincent, that's a hell of a lot of weight you'll be supporting on your shoulders... if something should go wrong, this whole section'll come down and you could be killed."
"Thank you for your concern, my friend, but Cullen is right; we have done this many times. Come, we have three supports to replace before lunch."
Elliot shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I'd better bow to your judgement, then."
There were a number of rotten upright timber supports in this particular section of tunnel that required replacing, but today they were concentrating on just six. It was a heavy day's work, to knock out the old posts and replace them with the new. There would be no doubt that the little work party would sleep long and deep that night!
The first three supports were replaced and the men worked up a healthy appetite by lunch. Having had their fill and taken a well-earned break, they proceeded along to the next section and started work again.
Their progress seemed slower, as they were beginning to tire; or the supports were in tighter; it was almost as if they didn't want to be removed.
Although reasonably cool in the tunnels, the heavy manual labour made them very hot and Cullen and Elliot paused briefly to strip off a couple of layers of clothing. Eventually, Vincent too, conceded defeat and shrugged out of his jerkin.
"Okay, Vincent, I think we're about ready," Cullen said.
Vincent got into position, using his powerful shoulders to prop up the heavy beams whilst the old support was knocked out and the new one inserted.
"Here we go, on three. One... two... three..." Cullen gave the rotting piece of timber a final blow with the sledgehammer and stood back out of the way as it toppled over. There followed an ominous creaking sound, but ignoring this, he and Elliot quickly manoeuvred the new piece into the right position.
"Just let us give it a couple of blows to start wedging it in; can you hold on a little longer, Vincent?" Elliot asked.
"Y-yes."
Elliot went to lift his sledgehammer to take a swing at the support, when everything blurred around him and he stumbled. Way off in the distance he heard Vincent growl and Cullen cry out urgently.
"Vincent! No! Wait! What's wrong?"
Then everything started to come back into focus and the sound of splintering wood and rock filled his ears as, with horror, he realised Vincent was collapsing.
Desperately, the two men hammered at the support in an effort to get it into a secure position before Vincent collapsed completely and the roof caved in on the lot of them.
With one final blow, the support finally clicked into place and the three men sat down heavily; gasping with the exertion.
"What the hell happened to you two?" Cullen finally managed to ask.
"I suddenly felt dizzy—only for a split second," Elliot said. "Must have got a bit airless in here, right, Vincent?"
"Yes," came the quiet reply.
"Well, I thought we were done for!" Cullen continued, missing the look that passed between Vincent and Elliot. "I think you two had better take another break and have some water—perhaps you got a bit dehydrated, I'm sure working up a sweat."
They finished the work without further mishap, but were late back and tired to the bone.
"I don't think I'm going to be able to move tomorrow," Elliot said wincing as he eased his back. "These poor old muscles simply aren't used to heavy manual labour any more!"
"You should be careful, Elliot, you were ill for quite a while and you've only been like your normal self for a couple of months," Vincent said, eyeing the exhausted features of his friend.
"What I wouldn't do for a long hot soak and a massage," he mumbled to himself as they trudged wearily off to the showers to get cleaned up.
"You'll be surprised what we have down here," Vincent said, smiling. "Have your shower and I'll take you to the spa pool."
"Spa pool...? You're kidding..." Elliot looked incredulous as Vincent slowly shook his head. "Okay, you're on!"
Elliot wasted no time in the shower, even though he ached in places he didn't think he ought to have an ache in! Vincent was as good as his word and led him down a couple of levels to a small chamber which smelt slightly sulphurous. Steam seemed to be rising off the bubbling pool before him.
"This is crazy... there shouldn't be any... this can't..." Then he shrugged his shoulders. "What the heck, it's here and boy I sure could use a soak, so..." He stripped off his clothes and gingerly stuck a toe in the water. It was hot, but not unpleasantly so. "You coming in, Vincent?"
"Not today. I'm not suffering the way you are. Do you think you'll be able to find your way back on your own? I have a few matters to take care of."
"Go ahead, I'll be fine... aaaahhh..." he finished off with as he immersed himself up to the neck in the hot water. "This is heavenly."
"Well don't fall asleep!" Vincent warned. "I'll see you later at dinner," and with that, Vincent turned and left a very contented Elliot.
They met up an hour later in the kitchen. William was delighted, as for the first time, Elliot had a second helping of everything. Father raised his eyebrows and Vincent smiled secretly to himself.
"You're hungry tonight, Elliot," Mary observed.
"Yeah, I worked up a good appetite." He sat back contentedly.
"For a minute, I thought you were going to do a medieval banquet impersonation and throw the bones over your shoulder, to the dogs," Jamie giggled.
Elliot smirked.
"Oh, those were the days," Jamie continued, sighing. "You'd have fine armour and a gallant war horse and fight the infidel and defend my honour."
Elliot's face took on a faraway look for a moment, then he pulled himself back to the present and glanced down at his attire, fingering the clothing. "Mary, when you've a moment, may I have a word with you?"
"Of course... how about now?"
"Fine. Please excuse us." Ever the gentleman, he got up and helped Mary from her seat and then escorted her out of the kitchen.
"What's he up to, now?" Pascal asked no one in particular. In reply, everyone shrugged their shoulders.
"Yes, Elliot, what can I do for you?"
"I know this is going to sound a little silly but... if you come across any black clothes that'll fit me, would you put them aside for me, please?"
"Black?"
"Yes." There was a long pause. "Anything with lacings would be especially welcome."
Mary's eyebrows rose into her hairline. "Lacings..." she smiled, guessing where he was heading. "Interested in medieval history, are we?"
Elliot blushed. "Don't tell anyone," he hissed. "It's something... when I was sick, and JD was looking after me, she read to me a lot and there was this trilogy... The hero dressed in black," he finished in a rush.
Mary laughed pleasantly. "Don't worry, Elliot, your secret is safe with me! I'm sure I'll be able to help you."
"Thank you, Mary. Thank you very much."
There was a spring in his step as he wandered off to his chamber. He was tired, but he didn't want to sleep yet, he had an urge to be creative. It was a long time since he'd done any drawing, but since arriving in the tunnels he had felt in the mood and had made a number of sketches. Tonight, he was feeling creative again, so he made himself comfortable on his bed and, with pencils around him, began to draw on the art pad a helper had treated him to. He wasn't aware of time passing, but eventually he had finished and held the work up to inspect it. A portrait of JD as he remembered her stared back at him. He frowned, were the details correct? Yes, they were. Proud of his efforts, he closed the pad, put the pencils away and got ready for bed, gratefully slipping between the covers.
Although the soak in the spa pool had done its work, Elliot's sleep that night was broken by disturbing dreams. For some reason he was unable to fathom, Catherine filled his thoughts. He saw visions of her, of Vincent, the three of them; of JD crying in the distance. He tossed and turned, trying to reach the people he loved. Then they were all standing on the edge of an abyss and he was faced with a terrible dilemma. Who did he reach for first? He looked at the three of them, arms outstretched, pleading for him to help. Cathy tugged at his heart strings, but then, so did JD. He tried to think logically. Of course, if he got Vincent out first, then they could both get the women out! But, as he reached out towards Vincent, the ledge gave way and all three fell...
Elliot jerked awake at that point, slightly disorientated and not knowing why. The memory of the dream-or was it a nightmare—was just out of his reach and it infuriated him.
.
Joe Maxwell swore at the phone. Who the hell was ringing him at three o'clock in the morning? Groggily, he fumbled for the telephone receiver.
"Yeah?" he muttered.
"Joe?" A feminine voice enquired.
"Yeah."
"It's Jenny. Jenny Aronson."
Joe sat up immediately awake. "Jenny? What's wrong?"
"I need to talk to you, but not on the phone. Can I come over?"
"What, now?"
"Yes."
"Well, okay... what's it about?"
"Not on the phone, Joe. I'll see you shortly, I won't be long." With that, the receiver clicked off at the other end, leaving Joe sitting there, listening to a dialling tone.
Shrugging his shoulders, he heaved himself out of bed and made a half-hearted attempt at straightening the rumpled bedclothes before going to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. Donning a dressing gown, he padded to the kitchen, turned on the fluorescent light, checked the kettle was full and switched it on to brew some coffee, before glancing again at his watch. It would take Jenny between fifteen to twenty minutes to get to his place.
She arrived on his doorstep seventeen minutes later, looking pale and yet, in a way, radiant. Joe helped her off with her coat, invited her to sit on his couch and provided her with a large mug of coffee.
"So, what's this all about?" he asked as he sat down beside her.
Jenny toyed with her coffee mug as she formulated what she was going to say. After a few moments, she looked up and stared Joe straight in the eye. "I know this is going to sound crazy, but I'm not mad, I know what I'm saying... Joe, Cathy's alive!"
"Aw, Jenny—"
"Joe, please just listen to what I have to say... please!"
Joe shrugged his shoulders, but Jenny could tell she was going to have a hard time convincing him about her feelings; her impressions.
"I'm listening," he finally replied, taking a mouthful of coffee.
Jenny took a deep breath. "You know that I sometimes have dreams. Most of the time they don't mean anything, but every now and again... well, it's almost like a premonition."
"Yes."
"Well, I had a dream tonight. It wasn't quite like the others I've had, they've always been so clear cut; so vivid, but this one started out... well... There was a swirling mist with indistinguishable shapes in the distance, then this slowly cleared, and I saw a forest clearing and a... a terribly disfigured face in amongst the trees, but I wasn't afraid because I was supposed to know him... Then it drifted in to darkness and I was in a tunnel, carved out of the rock and I saw a large figure coming towards me. He wore dark clothes and a long cloak, and he had long tawny hair but most of all... his features... he looked a bit like a lion, with long canines. In a way though, he was magnificent, and he wasn't threatening in any way." She stopped for a moment to drink her coffee.
Joe just sat there, deeming it wise not to say a word; he thought the whole thing was pure fantasy—the stuff dreams were made of.
"Standing with this... lion-man was a very handsome man; long hair, drawn back into a short pony tail; pale blue eyes; a beard..."
"Burch? You're saying you saw Elliot Burch?" Joe interrupted.
"Of course, that's who it was! I was positive I knew him; I just couldn't put a name to the face! Yes, it was Elliot Burch—"
"Jenny, honey, what you saw was Elliot in hell!"
"Joe! Don't! Shut up and listen to me! They were waiting... for Cathy. She came to them and they all hugged. But you know what I remember most, was the lion-man's hands... the claws on the end of his fingers, they looked lethal and yet he was so gentle..."
"Jenny, now you know... Claws? Nah... " Joe's mind switched into overdrive. Cathy and her secrets; the hideous deaths of those who had endangered her life... ripped to shreds by something not human, more animal-like... It can't be, it just can't exist!
"Joe? What is it?" Jenny asked.
He stared at her, hard. "Do you remember all those deaths... victims ripped to shreds by some kind of animal? And always on the cases that Cathy was involved in. Do you know what you're telling me? You're telling me that she knows some kind of... of half human beast that killed on her behalf and that Elliot Burch was involved in this as well? How the hell did he fit in? As far as I know, Burch is dead; I always thought if we ever found his body that he'd turn up with the same hideous injuries; now you're telling me he knows him? Diana said his name was Vincent."
"My God, that is his name!" Jenny's eyes were wide now, in shock.
Joe got up from the couch and prowled around the room, raking a hand through his hair. "Wait a minute, wait a minute," he muttered, "let me think this all through. Diana said Vincent was her protector..."
"Joe, I haven't finished! Cathy's going to come back into our lives and you're going to meet this strange... person!"
"This is crazy! What am I saying? What are you saying? Listen to us! But... we've had the medical reports... claw marks didn't match any known animal..." He stopped and looked at Jenny again. "You know, you're scaring the hell out of me," he said. "It's not even near Halloween and you're telling me ghost stories, Jen."
She put her coffee mug down and stood up. "I've done my part, Joe, I've told you what I've seen, I can do no more than that. You can either choose to believe it or not, it's up to you, but just remember, I have told you." She retrieved her coat from the chair Joe had draped it over and shrugged into it.
"You don't have to go," Joe said quietly.
"I think I'd better, don't you?" She walked to the door, then turned to face him. "Just keep an open mind, that's all I ask. Good night, Joe." And she was gone, before he could do or say anything.
He took himself back off to bed, but spent what was left of the night, tossing and turning, dozing now and again, only to be woken up by the strange image Jenny had described to him. He couldn't figure out why it should get to him so much, until he realised that Jenny's dreams always had some element of truth in them somewhere. But a lion-man? he queried, turning over yet again. It can't be... but the evidence, Joe. Dammit you've seen the evidence... unless... perhaps it was done by some kind of martial arts weapons, like that Jason guy used. Yeah, that's it... Sussed at last... a crazed martial arts expert... Gee Cathy, I wish you were alive, I really do, I miss you...