kal16c2

Kaleidoscope ~ Guards

by Cynthia Hatch

Part 16

Vincent hadn't spoken for so long that the soft, ominous words jerked Denton around to face him. For a moment fear suffused his features, but Vincent hadn't moved, and gradually a new animation was apparent in Denton's eyes. "That gets to you doesn't it, Vincent? Well, I'll tell you what - I'm gonna do you a favor. I'm gonna show you how it's done. Lessons Father never taught you. You guys,' he shouted at the two guards. "He makes one move and you empty those things into him, got it?"
He turned back to her. "And you. You be nice to me, or I’ll tell them to do it, whether he moves or not. Pay close attention here, Vincent. They all act like they want it sweet and soft, but they really like it rough. You should have no problem with that part.' He grabbed her face in a viselike grip and smiled, searching her eyes for the fear he fed on. Then he pulled her forward, grinding his mouth into hers.
She fought the revulsion rising in her, fought the overriding impulse to slam her knee into his groin, fought to keep her hands motion-less at her sides. She tried to clear her mind, to block out the sickening reality of his assault, but she couldn't short, circuit her senses; they were being overwhelmed by a stronger sensation, the volcanic rage that Vincent had kept in check. It was pressing against the walls of the cavern, ready to explode in a cataclysm of certain death. All of her resources gathered. She was oblivious to Denton’s repulsive touch. Her heart, her mind, her soul, were all reaching out to Vincent, begging him not to act.
Again, Denton seemed to sense the imminent danger and let go of her, whirling to point his finger at Vincent, his voice shaking. "Don't try it, Vincent. Wayne, aim that thing at her. He moves, you blow her head off."
"He must be a very good shot," she said, pleased that her voice sounded strong and acerbic, hoping that Vincent would see that she could handle what was happening. "With a weapon like that, there's a good chance he'll fill you full of holes at the same time."
Denton faltered. He was trying to keep one eye on Vincent, whose stillness and silence he knew to be deceptive. At the same time he looked over at Wayne. Apparently, the sight of those skinny, tattooed arms didn't bolster his confidence. She could almost see his coward's mind working, trying to determine which plan would give him the greatest power over them.
"Alright," he said finally. "I’ll tell you what - both of you, just concentrate on my friend there; if he so much as blinks, you do it, and then," his agitation gave way to the sadistic gleam that marked his own warped version of courage, “and then, you can both have a turn with her after I'm finished. Sorry. Vincent, but there's no reason we can't help each other out. I’ll make a deal with you: you behave yourself, and I won't have to kill you. I'll even let you try her when I'm done. You rip her apart in the process, you save me the trouble of cleaning my knife, but first you'll have to learn a few fundamentals. Number one, Vincent, you gotta get their clothes off.” He wheeled, as he had with the knife, and his hand shot out, grabbing the neck of her blouse and ripping it open. The motion snapped the gold chain, and it landed at Denton's feet.
'It's alright, Vincent.' she said aloud. "It doesn't matter. Please - don't do anything."
She wondered how so many emotions could flash in his eyes at once. The air crackled with the impossibly tight hold he was keeping on his impulses, the will to be strong and to trust that he was still sending her, but there was some other thought, a distraction. She could almost swear he was thinking of something else entirely. Still, his attention appeared to be on them. The words he finally spoke were not what she expected.
"Give it to me."
“What?" Denton looked confused.
"The crystal. Give it to me."
“This thing?." Denton knelt to retrieve it from the dust. "Why? Oh, I get it - you actually think I'd come over there and hand it to you, so you can tear me limb from limb, right? Forget it, Vincent." Denton seemed to squirm under the command in Vincent's eyes, reluctant to relinquish any more of his authority. But perhaps he was relieved to find the enemy fastening on so trivial an issue. "Here, take it." He tossed it across the yards that separated them. Vincent caught it without comment and slipped it into his pocket.
For a moment Denton looked at her as if he'd forgotten what he'd been intending to do. The reminder came from an unexpected quarter.
"You should get on with it," Vincent said suddenly.
"On with what?” Denton appeared totally nonplussed. “You mean with her?" he asked slowly. A smile wormed its way across his face. "Well, old friend, so you do have some interest in how this works. Sure, I wouldn't want to keep the lady waiting. You're gonna love this, Vincent, believe me. You just watch. You'll want to stick around for your turn."
She was staring at Vincent unbelieving, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. The mixed messages assailing her were impossible to reconcile; she still felt the life-giving strength of his love and support, but what he had said to Denton, his attitude now .... She felt he was blocking out the whole situation, retreating to his own private thoughts that she couldn't begin to decipher. Her mind could find no foothold in logic, and she hardly noticed when Denton pulled her to him.
"Mitch," Vincent said softly. "I don't want - to watch. Take her over there in the shadows."
“Feeling a little squeamish, are you, Vincent? Sure, no problem. It's your loss."
Vincent had turned away from them. "Hold onto her tightly," he warned. “She will try to get away."
"You speaking from experience here?" Denton laughed. He didn't seem to question this shift in his adversary's mood; he was too relieved at the results. The menacing fury that had hovered over him in the person of his former friend was gone. Vincent had leaned one shoulder against the wall, his arms crossed. He appeared preoccupied, as if he'd finally succeeded in closing himself off from the drama being played out behind him. She willed him to look at her, but he didn't respond, his profile obscured by the heavy, hair.
The panic racing through her precipitated no action, The inexplicable turn of events had left her too stunned to react, and she let Denton lead her back towards the darkness at the rim of the cavern. Death was near. She felt its inevitability, not through the iron grip on her arm, or the knowledge that the knife was meant for her; it announced itself in the way her certainties were crumbling away. in the flashes of memory that tumbled crazily through her mind. Pieces of her life - a life that had begun two short years ago - in the darkness, replaying themselves with all the poignancy and power that had marked their birth. The pattern was so clear now, every step that had brought them closer together, guiding them surely to the center of that circle where their bond would be complete. He had opened her heart, infused her soul with the breath of his own moral courage, his infinite compassion. And what had she given him? Love. Hope. A confirmation of the humanity whose tenuous-ness had tormented him all of his life. But it wasn't enough. At the heart of her desire for him had burned the conviction that only in giving herself to him completely could she prove to him the depths of his own humanness. Beyond the joy would lie the peace that had eluded him, the truth that their love was stronger than the dark forces that plagued him.
The realization that it would never happen now enshrouded her in black despair like some sinister cosmic joke, more regrettable than the fate Denton had in store for her. She thought if they had only fulfilled their dream, she might be able to accept what was about to happen. Their caution and restraint, which they'd thought so wisely considered. in retrospect seemed sad. a precious chance to consummate their bond, lost forever, forfeited to fear. She realized why death was here: she had summoned it. As Denton shoved her down on the filthy mattress, she knew she could not let this happen, that he would have to kill her before she let him touch her again.
But that decision offered no hope that Vincent would be spared: it would only remove the one motive that had prevented him from already rushing into self-destruction. No, the death that impended here had to be Denton's. She would have to kill him, somehow, here in the obscurity of the shadows. Perhaps she could pretend to cooperate, get the knife away from him. There was no doubt in her mind that given the opportunity, she would be capable of plunging it into his heart. The other two men couldn't see them; she would find a way to draw their attention, do something that gave Vincent a chance.
This resolution had no sooner found its way through the turmoil in her mind than the room exploded. What followed was so unexpected that she would later find it difficult to put into sequence. The cavern filled with a muffled boom, a roiling fog of smoke and dust, the sound of solid rock splitting, thundering to earth. Just seconds before, Vincent had been on the other side, seemingly relaxed, disinterested, but suddenly he was beside her, his movements’ swift and exacting. With one hand he swept the terror-stricken Denton from his position near the wall up and out into the lethal rain of rock that was pummeling the ground. In almost the same motion, he knelt to gather her into his other arm, bending over her, shielding her from the flying debris. She clung to him, unable to talk or even cry, her breath coming in short gasps.
“It's alright, Catherine. It's over." He rocked her soothingly, kissing her hair, while all around them hell was raging. She wondered vaguely if the wall next to them would collapse next, but she had no will to leave the protection of his arms. The warmth and safety with which he was surrounding her were more real than the shower of stone.
He touched her face gently and looked deep into her eyes, forcing them to lock with his. "I love you, Catherine.” His voice, his words, the truth of them that surged with pure light through their bond, his eyes that seemed the color of eternity, all combined to bring her back to herself, to quell the last vestiges of fear. She still could not speak, but she reached up and lightly kissed the angry welt left by Wayne's assault. "Catherine, there's something I must do. You'll be safe here, next to the wall. I'll be back in a moment." She nodded, and he merged into the dense and chalky cloud that filled the room, his cloak swirling into the dust.
A subway passed. Against its racket she thought she heard the sharp staccato of gunfire, and she stiffened, but she felt no pain that was Vincent's. It was true that the destruction was restricted to the center of the cavern. As the fog cleared, she was amazed to see that it hadn't been a random collapse; the roof had been cut out in almost a perfect square. Even more perplexing, a face was peering over the rim from the space above, Mouse's face.
“Pretty neat, right, Vincent? Three, maybe two inches off?” he called, and she realized that Vincent was standing underneath, hands on his hips, looking up at the peculiar hole.
"Perhaps, only one inch,” he confirmed. “But there is another problem, Mouse. I will explain it to you in a moment.”
Mouse frowned. “Boxes,” he said, noticing the crates that were not buried under the debris. "Weren't there last week. Catherine! Shouldn't be down there - not when I'm making a hole."
"Mouse, can you and Jamie gather everything you have there and take it below - very quickly.'
"Now?"
"Yes, Mouse. Now."
"Okay." The face vanished, and Vincent started back toward her. The places where Wayne and Paolo had been standing were empty, and she didn't dwell on their fate. Denton. she knew, was interred beneath the monument of shattered stone that rose in the cavern's center.
'Catherine, there is so much I have to say to you - so much to explain, but --"
"But, I have to go above. Yes. I know. I have to tell Joe I'm alright. Vincent, I don't think there's any way to keep the police out of this."
"No, they must be told. Don't worry, Catherine. By the time they arrive here. there will be no trace of what they shouldn't see. Are you strong enough to go above?"
She nodded. "I have a feeling, I'm going to have a delayed reaction. I'd like to be with you when I do. There are so many questions. Can I come back down, when I'm through with the police?"
"Yes, but come through the park. I will meet you. The entrance beneath your building will have to be unused for a time."
"I understand. Please, Vincent, have Father take a look at that cut and make sure nothing's broken."
"Vincent," Mouse and Jamie had appeared in the doorway and were making their way around the rubble towards them. "Got the stuff this far."
"Good. There are two things you must help me with, Mouse, as soon as I've seen Catherine safely back. We must block the passage that leads to the lower tunnels, and this." He took her necklace from his pocket and handed it to the boy. "The chain has broken."
"You knew," Catherine said, still trying to make sense of the day's events. "You knew my crystal was about to be lost under the collapse. That's why you made Mitch give it to you."
"I knew it was special to you, Catherine," he said simply. "Come." He helped her up. She was still holding her tom blouse closed, and she looked at Jamie sheepishly. "I’m really embarrassed to ask you this, Jamie, but could I borrow your sweater?”