Unravel me...
The outside is forgotten
And the animal awakens....
I don't know who I am.
Sarah McLachlan: 'Black and White'
From the album: 'Surfacing'
The scent of flowers first caught her attention.Warm notes of roses, freesia and carnations topped off a deeper toneof leafy greenness. Why were flowers in the tunnels?
Curious, Catherine followed the scent around avaguely familiar curve of rock and entered a chamber. The stone wallslacked that well-worn feel that was so prevalent in the morepopulated areas, and appeared as if freshly hewn. The room was filledwith warm golden light. Candles, everywhere, of all sizes and shapes,glowed from the many small niches carved into the rock. The softdancing light sparkled off the glass of her curio cabinet and thecollection of glass eggs stored safely within. A familiar heavywooden table was tucked into a corner, two well-loved chairs nearby.In an unconscious caress, her hand ran over the worn velvet of thelargest. How she treasured her memories of Vincent in this chair, themedieval style lending an air of royalty as he read quietly, or wrotein his journal.
The scent of roses resolved itself in the singlered blossom that lay on the table. The flower lay crosswise on anopened book, the rich red and green a stark contrast against whitepaper, underlining a small paragraph written just above the redbloom. Catherine lifted the rose and breathed in its rich fragranceappreciatively as she focused on the graceful script.
Today, I begin a new journal to record a newlife. For both Catherine and I have been re-born, each in our ownfashion. Our two worlds, never to meet except for brief moments outof time, have of necessity become one. It is my dream that, withinthis world, there should be a place set apart and that she woulddesire to dwell in that place, with me.
Smiling, Catherine brushed the soft petalsagainst her lips. Through the bond, which had been nearly silent, hersense of Vincent blossomed. He was here, nearby. Looking up, she sawan open doorway, one not visible from the chamber entrance. Strange,actual doors were rare in the tunnels. Holding her rose, she slowlywalked to the doorway to behold the second chamber.
Directly across from the entrance, theunexpected but well-loved glow from the half circle stained glasswindow softly illuminated the cozy chamber. To her right hung theirportrait, the gift of Kristopher Gentian. Below the golden window,the familiar huge bed bore her Grandmother's Wedding Ring quilt andwas strewn with flowers. Fragrant blooms were everywhere, in vases onthe night table, in a basket by the door, draped across theunfamiliar new armoire. A bittersweet memory of another bed surfaced- a white one, covered with lilacs. Faced with this new reality, thewistful envy that memory held for her disappeared.
Gentle hands slid around her waist and she waspulled back to rest against the solid warm body of her Vincent. "Doyou like it?" he whispered softly into her ear. Ripples of sensationshivered down her spine as his breath warmed her.
Catherine's hands moved up to enfold his and sheleaned back into his embrace. "It's beautiful. I love
"Then will you make your home here? Withme?"
"Yes. Oh, yes." Catherine's joyful contemplationof her new home was broken and her attention was drawn back to theman who held her willingly captive. Vincent lowered his head andnuzzled into her hair just below her right ear. Gradually hismovements began to tunnel through her long thick tresses, to reachand brush against the skin of her neck. She tensed, dragging in along breath of anticipation. Through the bond, she could feel hispleasure and shy pride at her reaction. Teasing, he rubbed the sideof his face against the line of her jaw, his soft fur leavingshivering sparklers of pleasure against her skin. A rough whimperescaped her. She clutched his hands in her own, sharp claws extendingin response to his slow hypnotic caress.
Wild and sweetly rich, the scent of Catherinefilled Vincent's senses. His hands left hers and slid slowly down hercurves to bracket her hips. A low, sensual growl rumbled forth as hepulled her pliant body back against him, making no attempt to concealhis burgeoning male response. Deliberately, he grazed her neck withthe side of a fang and she gasped in helpless reaction. Impatient,she attempted to turn in his arms, but her progress was halted as heswiftly reached up to grasp her shoulders, claws digging in. Atremble of sensual anticipation flowed through her as she felt thepressure of those rock-hard points as flares of delight. Firmly,Vincent reversed the partial turn so she was once again facing intothe chamber and pulled her back against him.
A rumbling vibration from Vincent's torsoshivered through her. The claws at her shoulders began a slowrhythmic kneading motion. A spear of intense pleasure lanced throughher from each point of strong pressure. Finally, when she felt shecould bear it no longer, she felt the drag of his lower lip acrossthe sensitive skin of her neck. Catherine's entire awareness narrowedto that point of contact as he began to press moist, open-mouthedkisses against her flesh. The gentle suck of soft lips was an eroticcontrast to the hard glide of his sharp fangs. Her breath stutteredunevenly, stopping each time those unyielding points made briefcontact. Unable to help herself, she bent her head to theleft in submission, allowing him open access to the flesh of herthroat.
Vincent lifted his head several inches to regardher offering through a mist of sensuous delight. A soft blush of pinkin the spots where he had softly sucked delicately marred her creamyskin, framed by golden brown hair, and the rosy places glistenedwetly. In a low growl, as well as through the bond, he laid claim tothe treasure that vibrated beneath his embrace. "Mine."
"Oh, God, yes. Vincent, please..." she moaned inresponse. The hot gust of his breath against her wet throat sent anintense shivery wave of unbearable anticipation through her. Theclaws on her shoulders tightened deliciously, all ten individualpoints of contact sending shafts of pure desire to her core. Slowly,too slowly, they began to trace down her back, each hard claw tipleaving a smooth line of fire. A soft, ripping noise followed –the sound of silk being slit by those razor claws, allowing his warmhands to slide inside her dress and find bare skin. With a deepsensual rumble Vincent' dragged his mouth down her exposed throat toset his teeth firmly against the muscle at the base.
Her knees began to buckle as her half moan, halfroar of response sang out to echo through the chamber-
"Cathy! What's wrong? Wake up." The moist, hotfeel of teeth and lips was replaced by grasping hands as someoneshook her, snapping her out of her sensual haze. Vincent? Whathappened to Vincent? Vincent! Through her confusion she heard aharsh, grinding snarl, familiar yet not. Muscle groups around herupper lip and cheek convulsed strangely and the room took on areddish tinge. Whipping around, she leapt to her feet, gaining herbalance instantly. The sudden rank scent of fear from the intruderstung her nostrils. Reflexively, her right arm rose and a tightfeeling clutched through her hands as she spun to face theattacker.
Peter stumbled back from the bed, until his backstruck Catherine's make-up table. Various bottles and jars teeteredalarmingly and several fell to the soft carpet. Eyes widening interror, he beheld the snarling apparition before him. Eyes flashedsavage fury above lips wrinkled into a vicious snarl. A snarl thatexposed gleaming white fangs. Long deadly claws threatenedevisceration-
"Cathy! It's OK! It just me, Peter! You're safe,you're OK! Everything's all right now." Peter shouted frantically,desperately trying to reach past the bestial savagery to the woman heknew was present underneath.
Catherine hesitated. This was a familiar voice,one that touched a memory of comfort and friendship. Blinking, shecast her other senses out. Vincent was not here. He was safe, below.And this was Peter, half sitting on her vanity table, holding up hisopen hands to her. A blanket of disorientation descended asadrenaline began to fade from her system. Taking a step backwards,she sank down on the bed and tried to calm her racing heart. Headdown, she focused on her hands resting on her thighs. Hands whichbore a short blanket of light brown fur on their backs, and fingerswhich were tipped in deadly looking, almost two inch long claws.Astonished, she lifted her right hand and slowly flexed her fingers.A relaxing sensation followed the engagement of muscles. Before hereyes the long claws retracted, to stop at slightly less than one inchin length, at what she had considered Vincent's normal claw length."Wow," she breathed quietly.
"Cathy?" Peter asked tentatively, stillunmoving. "Are you... all right?"
"Oh, God! I'm so sorry. What happened...? Ididn't mean to scare you. I just... I don't know. I was dreaming, Ithink, and I thought..." Unbidden, thoughts of all the times she hadwatched Vincent struggle after the beast left him surfaced. So thiswas what it felt like. Reason, washed away by the incredible tide ofadrenaline-fueled instinctive response, re-established itself onlygradually. Scrambled thoughts needed time to re-order themselves. Thedream had seemed so real...
Inexplicably, Catherine could still smell theperfume of flowers. Raising her eyes, she found a large bouquet ofmixed blooms resting in a glass vase on the bedside table. Glancingback at Peter, she watched him pick up the fallen items from thevanity. He looked pretty shaken up. To give him time to collecthimself, Catherine leaned over and plucked free the card that wasnestled in the bouquet.
'Radcliffe: Take all the time you need, I'llclear it with Moreno. You just take care of yourself. We need yousassy and raring to go. Joe.'
Suddenly, Catherine felt a surge of grief, likea dam breaking under a force long withheld. She wouldn't be goingback. Not now. Not ever. Not like this. She would have to go Below.There was no other place for her. Her job, her home, her friends, allwould have to be given up. They wouldn't know her; she didn't evenknow herself anymore. Hot tears filled her eyes and a harsh sobsurfaced too quickly to suppress. The muting blanket over heremotions, which had been present for the last few days, had lifted.Faced with this new reality, she wished it had never left. Catherinelowered her head into her hands and what she felt caused her awhip-crack of terror. A split, muzzle-like mouth, flattened furrednose, high cheekbones and tilted brows. And fangs. A rough wail ofhorror squeezed from her chest. Sobs burst from her in wracking gaspsas she collapsed inward into the grief, curling into a tightball.
Hesitantly, an arm slipped around her shouldersand Peter pulled her forward to nestle against his shoulder.Catherine reached out to grip his shirtfront in her hands; nothearing the pop as her claws punctured the cotton. Her shouldersheaved as shock, fear and disbelieving grief poured from her inwaves, calming then rising again as the ramifications of hersituation presented themselves in her mind's eye in slow succession.Never to take a copy of the Times to her favorite coffee shop, toenjoy espresso and people-watching. Or drive her car. She would nevergo to the movies again, or to a concert, or the bookstore. Having tohide her face, avoid anyone considered a stranger. Throughout thestorm Peter cradled her comfortingly, murmuring the soft endearmentsthat encouraged the ragged but cleansing outpour of emotion.
Gradually the horror and grief began to taperoff, spates of crying separated by longer and longer interludes ofquiet, until the worst had passed. Catherine still lay with her faceburied in Peter's torn wet shirt. A shuddering gasp was wrung fromher when she saw the holes, but there were no more tears left in her.Peter followed her gaze and wordlessly took her hands, disengagingthe claws from the shredded gaps she had torn, giving them a gentlesqueeze as he did so.
"How are you feeling?" Peter asked softly as hereached up to stroke Catherine's hair.
Mutely, she shook her head. How did she feel?Numb, mostly. Scared. Angry. Confused. "What... what day is this?It's not Monday, is it?"
"You don't remember?" At Catherine's confirmingshake of her head, he lifted his head and closed his eyes briefly."It's Thursday morning. You haven't been yourself. Do you rememberanything?"
"Not really, it's all a fog. I remember youvisiting on Monday and doing some tests. We talked a bit. Thennothing, really. I remember..."
"Yes, you remember-?"
"Climbing a cliff, and roaring? Did I dothat?"
Peter couldn't contain a huff of reluctantamusement. "Well, not quite. You didn't climb a cliff, but you didrun out and roar off the balcony. Nearly scared the wits out of me. Ithought you might be delirious and jump off, but you moved too fastfor me to stop you. Don't do that again, young lady!"
Catherine dropped her eyes, remorse clouding hervision. "I'm sorry Peter. About before. I almost attacked you. Idon't know what happened. I just reacted. I was scared and confused,and I thought you had done something to Vincent... I didn't recognizeyou at first."
"Well," Peter said lightly, "I won't ever shakeyou to wake you up again, that's for sure. I've learned that
Catherine pondered that a moment. Physically?Different. Perceptions were altered. "Different. Peter - I can hearthe people in the next apartment, getting ready for work I think. Mysense of smell is stronger, it& it brings pictures into my head."Carefully, Catherine got up and walked the length of the bedroom. "Ifeel lighter. My voice sounds different. I feel... fine. A bithungry." Catherine looked down at the blue silk pajamas and sniffed."I need a shower."
Peter watched Catherine carefully as he listenedto her descriptions. She moved differently. More fluidly, graceful.His eyes traveled to her feet, where he observed the slight rollingflex from heel to ball as the increased range of motion of the tarsaland metatarsal joints made itself obvious. He had seen all thisbefore, in a young child adopted over thirty years ago by his friendJacob. "I don't doubt that! You were a bit much for an old fellowlike me to handle. So, why don't you go and take that shower while Irustle you up some breakfast. We'll talk then. All right?"
It was like looking at a stranger. One who youwere sure you've met before, but can't quite recall when orwhere.
Catherine stood in the bathroom in front of thelarge mirror above the sink. The facial features reflected back ather were so familiar. The resemblance to a lion was less in her thanin Vincent, but apparent. Leaning closer, she examined her faceminutely. Her eyes hadn't changed, just everything else. She notedwith wry thanks that, except for her nose, unlike Vincent she hadn'tgrown hair on her cheeks or anywhere else on her face. Her mouthtasted like a sewer. Placing some toothpaste on her brush, she turnedon the faucet and wet her brush. Bringing the brush to her mouth, shehesitated. She had yet to seewhat she had felt. The long beast-like fangs she knew were there.Resolutely, she opened her mouth.
Yes, the fangs were there, long and white. Butthe process of opening her mouth brought other changes to the fore.Her lower jaw operated normally, but her upper did not. Attempting tostretch her lips vertically was almost impossible. Water ran down thedrain unheeded as she experimented. No wonder Vincent didn't smileoften. It was hard. Her upper lip felt stiff, although to her fingertips it wassoft and pliable. The roof of her mouth felt more ridged and, tiltingher head up so light shone down, she could see the pronouncedripples. Sudden awareness of the toothbrush in her hand brought herback to her original intent and cautiously she brushed her teeth. Theroof of her mouth was intensely sensitive and ticklish; she almostchoked on a mouthful of minty foam in shock at that particularrevelation. Finally she rinsed, spat, and turned off the water.
Her hair looked like it had been subjected to arabid hairstylist with a teasing comb. A good brushing helped, butdid not completely reduce the softly teased look, even through thedirt and grease accumulated from four days without washing. Draggingthe comb through, it felt thicker. Apprehensive fingers found adense, lighter undercoat of hair close to her scalp; hair of the sameapproximate color as that which covered her nose, hands, andfeet.
Finally, all peripheral grooming chores done, itwas time to face the music. The hands, face, and feet were allfamiliar to her, through Vincent. But what lay under the clothes,that was a mystery. For several minutes she stood frozen, unable tocontinue for fear of what she might find. But one can only put theinevitable off for so long. Closing her eyes, she removed herpajamas. After drawing a deep, tremulous breath, she looked in hermirror. Examining what she saw reflected back minutely, she had toadmit it wasn't as bad as she imagined.
Her body was basically the same. A little moremuscular and toned looking, but that in and of itself wasn't a badthing. Her upper arms below the elbows were covered with fur, sleekerand smoother than what she had seen on Vincent, and darker, as wereher legs below the knees. Turning to look at her back, she at firstthought her hair had grown. With difficulty, Catherine reached backand realized that her hairline now extended to midway down her back,stopping just below the shoulder blades in a rough point. It didn'treally look all that bad, just like she had very long layered hair.The claws on her hands were about an inch long, but a rememberedreflex caused her to experimentally tighten the muscles below thesecond knuckle. Noiselessly but swiftly they extended, doubling theirlength. The toilet lid was lowered and she propped one of her feet onit. They seemed longer than they had been; a size six shoe might notfit anymore. The claws on her foot were roughly the same as those onher hands, about a half-inch long. The same sort of muscular tensingcaused these to extend as well.
Clearly, Catherine could hear Peter rummagingaround in the kitchen. Her mouth watered at the sound of an eggshellcracking. Soon she was scrubbing four days of itchy sweat from herbody. Well, at least showers felt the same, she thought with only atinge of hysteria.
The sharp clink of a fork hitting china soundedfor the last time and Catherine pushed away her plate with a groan.At least her appetite was closer to normal. She hadn't packed back adozen eggs this time, something she could vaguely remember doing.Back to near normal, except for coffee.
Euuuchh. Whata horrible experience thatwas. The memory of Vincent's face when he had sampled hers came tomind again, but with much more sympathetic overtones this time. Ithad tasted so bitter! Even weak as water, the way Peter preferred it.Even with three teaspoons of sugar and cream, the bitter taste hadn'tbeen cut fully. Peter had commented that it probably wasn't a badidea to kick the caffeine habit anyway, earning him the first dirtylook she had expressed on this new face. And if she remembered thefew times she had seen that expression given by Vincent, it wasprobably a pretty deadly one. Tea went down much better, after
"Feeling better?" Peter asked cheerfully as hegathered her plate and took it to the sink.
"Yes, thank you. I usually don't eat breakfast,but this was wonderful. And at least I didn't eat so much of it -that was embarrassing." A short silence fell as Peter finishedclearing the table. "Peter?" she spoke quietly. "Can you tell meanything about this at all? Have you discovered anything?"
Pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee, Peter satdown opposite Catherine at the table. "A bit. Are you sure you wantto hear it?"
"I have to. This is my life now, I have to knowwhat I'm facing."
Peter reached down to the briefcase near hisfeet and removed a file. "You're aware I've known Jacob since theTunnel World began. I was there when Vincent was first found. Hisphysiology is... unusual. You know that. All of the differences youhave developed mirror ones he has shown all his life, with minorvariants." At her inquiring tilt of the head, Peter elaborated. "Themajor things are there, the ones you can see. I don't need todescribe them to you. The ones you can't see are slower heartbeat,lower blood pressure, and increased muscle fiber and bone density.That's why you craved food so much, especially protein and calciumduring the last few days, your body has been increasing its mass withonly a relatively minor increase in size. You haven't experienced ityet, but you are probably far faster and stronger than you were, withgreater lung capacity for endurance. You have acquired a whole newmuscle arrangement on your fingers and toes, giving you retractableclaws. The joints of your feet have much more flex; you can probablybend the balls of your feet to a 45-degree angle. Some of the nextbit is conjecture based on observation, since I've never had theopportunity to do involved medical testing on Vincent. The maximumoutput of your adrenal gland has probably at least doubled. This ispart of the 'losing himself' business that Vincent, and now you, haveexperienced. That fight or flight hormone revs everything up, bloodpressure, heart rate, and respiration. With your lower rates of allthese, your physical performance can peak much higher than, if youpardon the expression, a normal person. Again, these are only guessesbased on your resemblance to Vincent. From what you've told me, yoursenses are sharper, including that sense which links you to him."
"As to your differences from him, I believe mostof them are gender-based. You are smaller than he is. He is probablyfaster and stronger, but you can probably outlast him on straightendurance. Vincent displays the typical male hair growth pattern,heavier and coarser than your own. Without a MRI or anything else, Ican only guess. But there is
Dear Dr. Alcott:
It is unfortunate you seem to have ouraddress incorrectly entered in your files. This laboratory deals onlywith analysis of human blood and tissue. This is the second incidencewhere we have received animal blood from you for workup. Pleaseinstruct your staff to change their records, in order that you mayavoid such unnecessary delays to your veterinary tests by ensuringsamples are sent to an appropriate facility.
Sincerely,
Montfort Medical Laboratories
Catherine looked up from reading the letter,face ashen. "Animal blood?"
"Cathy, remember when Vincent was sick? Hisblood came out with the same results." He paused, giving Catherinetime to absorb the implications of his words.
"But how did this happen? Why? Can you reverseit?"
"I'll need you to give me a bit more time onthat. Between taking care of you and my practice I haven't really hadtime to do any kind of in-depth research. Now that you're better,though, I should be able to make some kind of progress. But one thingthat does need doing, right away, is we need to get you out of hereand safe Below. I think you'll agree with me on that?"
Catherine nodded reluctantly. He was right.There was no way she could stay here now. The risk was too great."But... what will they think of me, down there? Father will be-"
"You just let metake care of Jacob. I'll go below today and talk to him. I think thebest thing would be to bring you down tonight, very late, using thestairs. I have an idea on how to do it, too. For now, stay put. Don'tanswer the door or the phone. You might want to pack a few things aswell." Peter replaced the file in his briefcase, and went to thecloset to fetch his jacket. Returning to the kitchen, he drewCatherine into a hug. "You'll be all right for the day?"
"I'll be OK. I'm not a child, just... just...well, I'm not sure what, but I think I'll be all right. I'll see youlater this evening."
<![if!supportEmptyParas]> <![endif]>
Later, after Peterleft, Catherine walked to the French doors, opened them, and slippedout onto the balcony. Laying a cushion on the concrete, she stretchedout to soak in the spring sunshine. After all, it could be the lastchance she would ever have.