"The ground is not firm, but soft and weak -like skin
Under the touch, cannot stop to falter
Now, the damage is done, the certaintiesgone
The spirits altered&"
Sarah McLachlan: 'Back Door Man'
From the album: 'Solace'
The echoes of labored pants lent a semblance ofmalevolent life to the damp cavern. Stumbling to a halt just withinthe entrance, Vincent slumped against the unyielding rock wall. Hislegs trembled with exertion, as the damp stone brought welcomecoolness to his overheated body. He must have fled for miles,desperately trying to escape the horror of what he had seen.
How could this be? It must be a nightmare. He would wake up soon. He must
Impossible! But yet, he knew it to be truth -his Catherine, wearing a duplicate of his own bestial features. Thegloves... had they concealed hands - like his own? Furred and clawed?The jerky pacing continued as whirling, chaotic thoughts buffetedhim, an overwhelming and jumbled montage of fractured images.Gradually however, the mental whirlwind began to calm. He had alwaysbeen able to think more clearly when moving. When angry, frustrated,he could barely keep still.
How could this& this obscenity, be truth?Was he insane? Had his aloneness become so unbearable that he couldeven conceive of such an abomination? Desperately, he searched hismemory, seeking one shred of evidence that would prove the lie ofwhat he had just beheld. But always, irrevocably, the sight that hadnearly slain him on the spot reasserted itself. The tears tremblingfrom familiar eyes, coursing down to a muzzle-like mouth, a glimpseof long white canines as she drew trembling breath. The feel of herhorror fluttering against a heart frozen by...
Implications. Such implications. His Catherine,who dwelled in the sunshine, who did and saw for them, who carried their lightin the world Above, now a creature who must hide in dark caverns. Abeing that must fear the sight of a stranger. Would his struggle nowbe hers - the struggle to quell animal instinct in order to fit inwith humanity?
Against his will, and to his despair, aninsidious bittersweet tendril of speculation wrapped around hisheart. She would dwell here now, Below. Never to leave again. A truecompanion in Aloneness. They could be together, always. From the backof his mind, a reluctant ripple of pleasure ruffled hisconsciousness. Horrified, Vincent shook his head violently innegation, a choked roar of rejection spreading from him. How could heeven think that?
"You're doing it again," the low voice spokefrom behind him softly. "Thinking, always thinking. Analyzing."
For a moment, Vincent stood frozen. Turningslowly, he beheld a mirror of himself, leaning casually against thetunnel wall. Wild eyes met his, understanding and yet impatient.Vincent sighed deeply, before resuming his measured circling strides.With the events in the cavern, he had thought never to see thisapparition again. "Why are you here? Has the freedom you have gainednot been satisfactory? Or do you truly wish to torture me?"
"It's really quite simple," the rough voicereplied calmly to Vincent's impassioned tirade. "We are of two mindsregarding the mate."
"Impossible! How can you say that? How couldyou... could I wish this onCatherine? I know
"Haven't we had that exact argument with themate herself, numerous times? She belongs where she wants to. Why can we not listen to her
Vincent halted. With a rumbling sigh, he raisedone arm to brace his weight against the damp rock and bowed his head."I felt her horror, her fear, her grief at what she has become. Ifelt, and understood, all of her feelings. I share them."
"Do you? Truly?" Vincent heard the light scrapeof a claw on rock as his double approached him from behind. Therasping voice resumed a few inches from his ears, a whisper so softit seemed to float into his thoughts. "Do you feel only thoseemotions? Is there nothing more?"
Once again that tendril of speculation surfaced.To know true companionship, to have someone who understood and sharedwhat even the people who were his family never could. To see an endto his unique Aloneness. For a brief moment, Vincent allowed thosefeelings sweep through him and felt inside his deepest being a burstof hopeful joy. A low snarl of self-disgust quickly followed, andrough golden mane tossed wildly as he shook his head, as if in doingso he could shed the sweet temptation of possibility. Vincentscrunched his eyes shut in desperate denial. He couldn't, wouldn't
He must think of Catherine.
The object of his thoughts sat unmoving,crumpled in defeat against the wall of her new chamber. It was as ifVincent's abrupt departure had robbed Catherine of the ability tomove. Red-rimmed eyes gazed into space, all tears long dried. Herchest ached from withheld grief, as if a brick lay atop of her lungs.Even breathing seemed to be an effort. Dimly, she heard the softfootsteps of someone approaching through the short tunnel hallway.The footsteps halted at the entrance, as whomever it was paused. Ascent of soap, candlewax and... baby powder?
Mary stopped at the entrance to the cozychamber. Swiftly her eyes searched the room, until they came to reston the huddled figure. Catherine sat, knees up, back pressed againstthe wall, arms resting on her thighs and her head bowed. "Catherine?Father sent me. Are you all right?"
Was she all right? No. No! How couldshe be all right? How could anyone askher that? Apathy vanished in a blink as Catherine surged angrily toher feet, dark cloak swinging wildly behind her. Unconsciouslypacing, Catherine heard as if from far off a rumbling noise. Ignoringit, she made an agitated circuit of the room, brushing by Mary'sstill form that stood directly in the tunnel entrance.
Catherine's face came fully into view as sheswept by, and Mary caught her breath in astonishment. Fatherhad
As Catherine paced by a second time, Maryconcentrated on the young woman. A low rumble of an angry growl,slightly higher in pitch compared to Vincent's, vibrated through theroom. Gloved hands flexed stiffly at her sides. Cautiously, Mary madeher way across the chamber to take a seat on the quilt-covered bed."Catherine? Catherine dear, please. Come sit, and talk to me?"
The low growl increased in volume as Catherinespun on the spot to face the Mary. A rougher, raspy version of herfamiliar voice filled the chamber, the undertone of furious snarlobvious. "Talk? What good will talking do? Lookat me! Talk can't change this!"After several hours of apathetic resignation, anger felt so good!Release felt so good! She had every right to be angry! This wasn'tfair! This, and Vincent's reaction. Damn him! Couldn't he, of allpeople, understand her need for comfort, for acceptance? The rumblingsnarl that shook her chest increased in strength and volume as a redmist tinted her peripheral vision. The speed of her stride increasedas she circumnavigated the small room.
Movement caught Catherine's attention as shepassed the bed, and she stopped abruptly. She hadn't seen it, hadn'ttaken the time to look closely when she had first arrived, being sunkin a terrified stupor. There was a mirror in this chamber, afull-length cheval mirror, cracked at the bottom but stillserviceable. Frozen, she stared at her reflection. The animal wasclose. Her eyes flashed with barely suppressed rage, her upper lipwas drawn back, exposing flashing white canines - canines in abestial face. In a flash of realization, Catherine knew that therumbling noise was a vicious growl, coming from her!A surge of hatred swept through her. Reaching to the small dressingtable at her right, she seized a metal-handled hairbrush and with aroar of defiance, hurled the heavy brush at her reflection. Glassexploded from the impact. With a sharp crash the large mirrorshattered.
Silence descended. Catherine blinked inconfusion at the litter of shards on the floor. Had she done that?Muscles went limp as a blanket of weakness descended. With a groan,she sank backwards to sit on the bed next to Mary, dropping her headto her hands. Minutes passed, as Catherine struggled to rein in herwildly plunging emotions. Finally, she drew a deep breath. "I'msorry, Mary. I hope I didn't frighten you too much."
"I think, in this case, a little thing like abroken mirror can be forgiven." Catherine felt Mary's strong handsettle on and stroke her back soothingly. "Feel any better?"
"A bit," Catherine replied sheepishly. "It'sbeen over twenty-five years since I've had a tantrum."
Mary gave a light chuckle. "Nothing I haven'tdealt with quite a few times in my life. Even one just yesterdaymorning, to be exact. Now, tell me."
Catherine stiffened for a brief second, bracingherself against the pain of remembered rejection. "You sound likeVincent."
"Well, now, where do you think he and Fatherpicked up that particular turn of phrase?" Mary's voice was soft,soothing, and Catherine relaxed, surrendering to her need forcomfort. Turning, she laid her head on Mary's delicate shoulder andwas drawn into a warm, motherly embrace.
"Oh, I don't know what to do. I don't knowanything anymore. What happened - why it happened - I just don'tknow." Raising her head, she gazed directly at Mary. "Vincent hatesme now, I think. He must. He ran, when he saw this." A gloved handindicated her face. "I know he must think I'm ugly, now. How could henot? He considers himself ugly."
For a moment Mary allowed silence to fall again,to allow Catherine to think about what she had just said. Finally,drawing a deep breath, she softly asked. "Catherine, do you think Vincent is ugly?"
Catherine jerked as if slapped. "No! No, notugly, never ugly. To me... Mary, to me he is so beautiful."
"Have you told him that? That you see beauty inhim?"
"Whenever I can, but I don't think he reallybelieves me. He told me once that what I perceive as his beauty isjust a reflection of mine. That's total hogwash, but it's what hethinks."
"But when you first saw him, didn't you screamand throw something at him?"
Shamed as always by that memory, Catherine hungher head. "Yes, I did, but I didn't know him then, and he startledme."
Mary continued to stroke Catherine's back andhair. Absently, she noted that her hair now had that same shaggyfullness that Vincent's had had since he was a child. "Then, I'd likeyou to think about something. Throughout Vincent's life, he has neverseen anyone who had features like his. Just now he saw exactly whatyou had seen when you first met. You hadn't been prepared for it.Well, Vincent wasn't prepared for this, either." At Catherine'sexclamation of surprise, Mary smiled. "When Father was walking backto the hub, he was almost knocked over by Vincent as he ran by. Sincehe had a good idea of what might have happened, he woke me and sentme to you. Somehow, he knew that you needed a mother right now." Ashort pause fell, punctuated only by Mary's soothing strokes. "Youmust know that Vincent loves you totally. Mostly, his behavior wasprobably shock. Vincent always did run from difficult situations,ever since he was a small boy. He needs to think about them until hedecides how to handle things. Now, I won't say he didn't react badly,I think that is a pretty obvious conclusion. But perhaps you need toforgive him, just as he forgave you that one time, long ago."
Catherine nodded slowly, reluctantly. A part ofher screamed like a spoiled child, stamping its figurative feet, justas most children do when they realize that their parent is right, andyet they don't want to admit defeat. But Mary was right.As she sat and pondered what she could say to him, Mary continued hersoothing strokes on her lower back. Catherine felt herself relaxfurther, as she realized just how tired she really was.
"Catherine? Catherine are you awake?"
Catherine jerked her head up from her doze. Maryhad stood and was rummaging through her duffel bag.
"It's time for bed for you, young lady. Thingswill look better in the morning, after a good night's sleep, you'llsee. Now, let's get this night dress on you and get you to bed."Responding to the tone of authority, Catherine rose and, asking Maryto turn her back, divested herself of the clothing and donned thesoft Egyptian cotton nightgown she had brought, the warmest sheowned. Swiftly, she dove under the covers and snuggled down.
"All settled?"
"Um Hmm." Catherine brought the covers up to herchin.
Tucking in the quilts with care, Mary turned toleave, then hesitated. "I'd like you to think about one other thing.You say you always told Vincent that he was beautiful. Was it becauseof what he was inside, or did you truly find his physical featuresattractive?"
"A bit of both, I guess."
"Well maybe you need to turn that particularlooking glass onto yourself. Goodnight, dear." Giving her a lightkiss on the forehead, Mary slowly rose and left the chamber.
By the light of the single candle left lit inthe alcove above the bed, Vincent hesitantly examined Catherine'sfamiliar yet altered features. Repeatedly his eyes swept over thetilted brows, the furred flat nose and split muzzle. She had partedher lips in sleep, and he could clearly see the tips of sharp caninesagainst the darkness. 'A terrible miracle,' he thought distractedly.Abruptly, his reverie was broken by an indistinct mumble fromCatherine, as she turned onto her side and pulled the pillowforward.
Vincent drew in an audible gasp. He had beenright. Her hands were changed as well. The same opaque claws andfurred backs, although her fur was slightly darker than his was, morea soft brown than copper.
Tearing himself from that evocative butunconscious pull, he backed slowly away, step by step, to take up hispost just outside the chamber entrance.
It was just after eight o'clock when Catherineawoke. Messages on the pipes sang just within the range of herhearing, the musical tones comforting in their familiarity.
After Mary left, Catherine had lain awake a longtime thinking over their discussion. Mary's parting comment, aboutlooking in that same mirror, had made a definite impression.Catherine yawned and stretched, her body vibrating like a bowstring,teeth fully exposed. The blankets were warm and soft, and she was socomfortable. Maybe she could just stay here for the day...
Hiding from the world. Well, that would onlywork for so long, eventually she would have to face the music.Catherine grimaced as she recalled her hours of apathetic huddlinglast night. Mary was right, yet again: things always look betterafter a decent night's sleep. Catherine threw the covers aside andsat up briskly. Jenny's voice paraded through her thoughts with hersignature phrase "Get over it: Get on with it: Get it over with."
Catherine winced as she noted the pile of brokenglass on the chamber floor. That was her doing. Looking away, hereyes fell onto the white sheet of paper propped against a book on thebedside table. Clawed hands reached out to pick up the delicatesheet.
"Please forgive me. V."
Vincent. He must have delivered this during thenight. Had he stood and looked at her? How did he feel about it thismorning? For a moment, Catherine felt the return of that terror, thefear of rejection, but she firmly shook it aside. She had spent allday yesterday wallowing in self-pity. Enough was enough. She wasstronger than this, Vincent had taught her that. Resolutely,Catherine sought the threads of her bond with Vincent, delicatelyusing that tenuous connection to try to sense his emotions.
He was frightened as well. And ashamed. And...nearby. Very close, in fact.
"It's all right. You can come in." She felt awave of deja vu as she called out. She had called to him like thatbefore, when he had lingered just out of her sight, watching overher. Newly sensitive ears picked up the swish of fabric, andVincent's cloaked form filled the chamber entrance. Silence fell.Each regarded the other with trepidation.
Vincent allowed his eyes to stray to the furredfeet that could just be seen peeking out from underneath thenightgown hem. Feet tipped with deadly claws, longer and sharper thanhis - although his were
Noting the direction of his gaze, Catherinepulled her nightgown down in embarrassment and tucked her feetup.
Easing his way to just inside the chamber,Vincent leaned back against the wall. "How can this be? What hashappened to cause... this?"
"I don't know." Catherine replied quietly. Howshe wanted to feel his arms around her, relax into his warm embrace."Peter has some ideas. He took some blood, to do some tests. He willbe by a bit later today, I think." Catherine rose and shrugged on herwarm bathrobe, thoughtfully unpacked and left out by Mary.
Together, they cocked their heads at the soundsof approaching footsteps. Heads swiveled as, several moments later,Mary entered carrying a breakfast tray. Seeing Vincent, she stoppedabruptly.
"Oh. Hello Vincent. Are feeling better?"
An arched look, admonishing tone, and eloquentlylifted eyebrow from this woman were all that was necessary to makeVincent feel like a five year old in real big trouble. Resisting theurge to drop his eyes to the ground and shift his feet, he answeredgravely, "Thank you, yes, I am& feeling better."
Gazing a few more seconds at the man before her,she left unsaid but Vincent definitely felt the corresponding 'seethat you mind your manners, young man.' Turning briskly towardCatherine, she set the tray on the bedside table. "Good. NowCatherine, William says hello and he set up this tray especially foryou. Everything's cold, since I had such a long walk, but weanticipated that so I didn't bring anything that needs to be eatenhot. Oh, except coffee. William remembered how much you missed it thelast time you were here, and managed to obtain a small stash, as hecalled it, just for you. It's in the green thermos. Peter sent wordthat he would be by around three o'clock this afternoon. If you wantto meet him for tea in Father's study that would be wonderful, but hedid say to tell you that if you were not comfortable with that, hewould come here after he'd spoken to Father. Now, you enjoy yourbreakfast." Pinning a decidedly warning look on Vincent, and replyingto Catherine's thanks with a gentle "it was nothing, I was glad tohelp," she made her exit.
"That woman can say more with a tone ofvoice&" Vincent remarked casually, in an attempt to ease thetension that filled the room.
Catherine responded with an attempt of a smile,which fell flat when she again noted the stretching, pullingsensation in her upper lip. Ducking her head shyly, she concentratedon the contents of the breakfast tray. As usual, William had sentenough to feed a small horde. Muffins, butter and preserves, anorange cut into sections, and some sliced cheese. "Would you like tojoin me and share this, Vincent?"
"Yes... Yes, Catherine, I would like that - verymuch."
Continued in Chapter 13