By Teri
Note: This story takes place at the end of the second season, six weeks after Vincent's nightmare in the catacombs.
Prelude
Deep, deep in the bowels of the earth he'd waited. The master's magic had miraculously saved his life, when all hope seemed gone. He had heard the witch's voice in the background telling the master to leave him, that it was useless to even make the attempt. But the master had not abandoned him, and now his slavish devotion to him was increased tenfold over what it once had been. Not that there had ever been any other choice for him, nor would he have made use of such a choice had it been presented. His life was a simple one; do as he was told and food was provided, and occasionally something more interesting, obtained from uptop and stealthily bundled below for his and the others' amusement. Not often, true, but when the master contrived that, life was perfect.
Sometimes the master sent him to accomplish the deed, sometimes another, but he almost always accompanied whoever he sent to some remote, dark spot above, then waited, instructing them in simple terms they could understand. Must be quiet. Must not be seen. He would press the smelly rag to the woman's face - don't breathe it yourself, the master warned - until the struggles stopped, then together they would sneak back to where it was safe and warm, far away from those open places that confused him. There were too many people there, soft though they were, and they dressed so strangely, moving to a purpose he could not comprehend. They would head for home, far below even the others he recognized as more closely related to himself and his life, though still there were too many, the few that there were. They were worse than those uptop, the master had warned, more dangerous than the rest. Don't be seen by them especially. Getting past them and their sentries was the most difficult part of all, but they always had. The master was clever, smarter than all of them.
And then the fun would begin.
Yes, his life was simple, but it was all he knew, all he had ever known, and that was all right with him. Anything more would be too difficult for him to understand anyway. But there were things he did understand by necessity. Following orders was not an optional thing, and despite his size and strength, he never thought to question those orders, not when they came from him or his witch. The master brooded more these days, was sharper in his barked orders, quicker with the lash when things did not go as he expected. It had been quieter than usual for almost a year, ever since the big one had spoiled the master's fun and taken his prize.
He would have been terribly disappointed himself had he not had other things on his mind. Much of that time he didn't remember at all, in fact, but he'd never forgotten the girl. She was tender and delicate, and so very different than the others they caught uptop in alleys and on dark street corners. When he was once more able to look back on those days there were only two thoughts in his mind; how he wanted that tender one back, and how he wanted the big one dead. When the master had come to him with his latest plan, simple though he was, he understood instantly and eagerly awaited his orders. Finally he would get his chance.
That thought sustained him through the tense traverses of the upper levels. He could smell the scent of the big one there, and proceeded even more cautiously than usual, the master's warnings now augmented by his own, nearly deadly first-hand experience. Into the darkness of the park he crept, and from there through a circuitous route that brought him to the vaguely familiar place he'd been once before, high up, that height strange and unusual to one who had lived his whole life below, beneath solid rock and comforting stone. Just as before, he'd taken her by surprise, with few struggles or sounds. And just as before he made his way below, the light weight of her slung over his shoulder. Be very careful of the others, the master had warned, more stringent than usual, especially him. If he caught them, it would all be over, he said. And he had known that to be true, for the master would not accompany him this time, would not be there to save him should the big one catch him in his rage. He had actually been frightened during those hours maneuvering silently around the boundaries of their world, and that was a telling thing, for very little frightened him. Once he was below the upper levels, but still safely distant from his master and the lash, he let his free hand wander over her unconscious form. Oh yes, just as he remembered, tender and delicate.
He was going to enjoy this…
* * *
Catherine woke abruptly, the painful throbbing in her head pounding out a rhythm that would not be ignored. Her vision was somewhat hazy as she looked about, groggy and confused. Dim, torch-induced light and rock walls told her instantly that she was below, in the tunnels. Only when she realized that she was viewing both through iron bars, spaced approximately five inches apart, did she realize that this was not the below of Father's making.
Memories dropped into place and she gasped as the awful implications washed over her. Erlich, Paracelsus had called him, she remembered that clearly. He had taken her before, and there wasn't a doubt in her mind that the same had occurred once more, fleeting though her glimpse of him had been before she'd been overwhelmed by the chloroform-soaked cloth. He was supposed to be dead, should have been dead, based on the severity of his wounds after the battle with Vincent. No, he shouldn't be alive, but thinking on that now was a useless waste of energy. Slowly she got to her feet, pulling herself up along those same bars, noting the solid strength of them as she did. Her head swam dizzily, and she closed her eyes for a moment and leaned her forehead against the metal, letting the coolness of it mitigate the nausea she felt as a residual effect of the drug.
When she opened her eyes once more, it was to gaze out into the surrounding area. She recognized it at once as the same place he'd brought her before, though the bars hadn't been there then. Just a foot beyond them, the floor fell away to a circular pit, approximately twenty feet deep and thirty feet across. That was where Vincent and Erlich had fought almost a year ago. Across the way, on the other side of the pit, a natural step of rocks led to a separate, shallow ledge, slightly higher than floor level. She recognized that place as well - she had been bound to that wall, a fiery pyre ignited beneath her. Her eyes traveled upward expecting to find another ledge, just above that place. Yes, there it was. She saw the dark entrance in the fold of rocks and remembered how she had heard Vincent's voice when Paracelsus had led him there. The sight of him had been abrupt when he'd jumped into the pit to search for her. He had found not only her, but a larger menace as well, one he would have to best first, before he could get to her. For Erlich was larger than Vincent, as amazing as that seemed. Taller by a head and broader of chest, he had a simple-minded intelligence which left ample room for brute strength and the use of it without a qualm. For a moment, as the fire kindled beneath her, she had despaired, fearing that all was lost, that they would die and their dream with them, left sadly unfulfilled.
But they hadn't and neither had their dream. Oh, there was sadness, great and wide, both below and above, at the untimely and tragic death of a beloved family member. Winslow had died, Vincent said, so that their love could live. She'd felt then, and still did to this day, a great weight of responsibility for that death. She'd sworn to herself that nothing like that would ever happen again, but here she was once more, and the groggy waking from the drug had ensured that there had been no hold placed on their bond. Vincent had to know now, if he hadn't before, that she was below and in danger. She didn't try to mute the bond at that thought, though, remembering the look of anxiety on Vincent's face as he'd asked her about it during their rafting trip back through the vast caverns. He'd admired her strength and courage in making such a decision, but his fear had been impossible to ignore. If something had happened to her and he hadn't been able to help, not even been able to make the attempt, it would have killed him. She knew that now, and knew, too, how shortsighted her decision had been, noble though its intent.
A clanging sound startled her reverie. The hollow boom sounded near, yet muffled, coming from somewhere behind her, somewhere behind the rock wall. She turned to more closely inspect her prison. The ledge she stood on was almost too large to be referred to as such. Its length was wider than the pit below, thirty-five feet, perhaps more, and approximately twenty feet deep. It curved behind her in an arc, following the natural shape of the rock wall which had been chiseled out to accommodate the purpose it was meant for. The floor was man-made, that much was clear, the rock separated into large, square stones. The front lip of the prison ran in a curved line, ending a foot beyond the bars and dropping down from there to the pit below. The enclosure was actually a series of cages, five all total, constructed of various barred walls, only one of which, the straight one running along the outer edge of the shelf, was shared by them all. There was one other shared wall, however it was not composed of bars, but was instead simply the carved wall of rock at her back which enclosed the whole space. The remaining bars which broke that space up into five separate cages were spaced at regular intervals, leading from the back rock wall, to the front, shared line of bars.
Each cage was rectangular in shape, narrow and long at approximately seven feet wide and twenty feet deep. Hers was the central one, with bars on either side. On either side of her two additional spaces waited, each one the same size as her own, but otherwise empty, and beyond those lay two others, of approximately the same shape and size. Access to the cages was obvious; two tunnel openings were carved at each end of the curved rock wall, allowing entrance by either end of the enclosure, at the two outer cages. Solid metal doors were in place near each door, one raised above its opening, the other lowered to cover what obviously lay beyond. Both had a set of pulleys above, and Catherine had no doubt that once lowered, as one of them now was,those doors would present a difficult if not impossible barrier to escape.
Right now, the one's open status was irrelevant to her. She could reach neither, restrained as she was in the central section. It wasn't immediately clear how she had gotten there, however, no obvious disruption of the barred walls indicated doors of any type which would allow someone to move from one cage to another. However upon closer inspection, she saw that the side bars were buried deep in the rock floor and the ceiling above her as well, in what appeared to be drilled holes. These bars, though appearing extremely strong and well anchored, probably were capable of being raised and lowered by some mechanical means, probably similar to the pulleys above each of the two outer doors, though those particular devices were not evident within the enclosed space. Maybe they were above the ceiling, on the floor overhead. She peered upward, but could discern nothing which would answer that question, and for the moment put it aside. It was irrelevant, really. Obviously she had been moved from outside this place to the central cage, and it seemed equally clear that there must be some access-way, invisible though it looked at the moment, which linked all five cages together and led to the two outer doors. Therefore there had to be four sets of doors closed between her and those final exits, two on either side.
If she was right in her speculation, then with some or all of the doors open, some or all of the thirty-five by twenty-foot space would be accessible to her. Right now the doors were closed, and she was constrained to the seven- by twenty-foot space at the center, which was completely empty except for the bare, much-worn mattress thrown on the floor along the back wall upon which she'd woken up. It filled almost the full width of the cage in back, and that was all there was. There was nothing at all in the other cages.
She couldn't see it, but the rock entrances both led to a tunnel passageway which curved around the enclosure, behind it, following the arch of its line to the very center. Somewhere just behind the rock wall of her cage area they met at a third path which led straight back, away from this place. At that three-way junction metal doors, like the two used in the prison interior, hovered above each opening. Only two stood open now, the sound she'd heard that of the primary exit door, shut just a minute ago. A minute later another clang heralded the shutting of a second door and Catherine turned, startled, to stare at the back wall of her own cage, the sound coming somewhere from that vicinity, behind the rock, and slightly to one side. She instinctively turned to her left, staring at the open door two cages down in that direction, waiting with a growing sense of expectation. A moment later and without a sound, a dark figure ducked through the opening. Unfolding his length, Catherine gasped and ran toward him,stopped by the bars a few feet away.
"Vincent!" she called out softly, eagerly. She was unable to control the relief she felt at his sudden appearance, anxious though she was now about both their fates. They were together, and together they were far stronger than they ever were apart. That gave her hope.
"Catherine!"
His cautious pace ended as he ran to her, but he was stopped as well, by the bars which enclosed the far space he now occupied. Another cage stood between them, separating them. He had a long reach, but hers was less, and try as they might, their fingers could not touch when both strained anxiously through their respective bars and across the seven foot intervening space. Vincent growled in frustration, then turned in a flash to inspect the door behind him once more. Catherine read his intention, but at that exact instant the pulleys were loosed and the metal covering fell into place with a heavy, scraping clang, effectively blocking his exit. They were both trapped now, he in the far space, she in the center, with a third cage between them, holding them apart. The two spaces to her other side remained empty, the far opening of rock covered by its metal door.
"So we meet again."
They both turned to stare across to the space on the other side of the pit, to another, albeit smaller shelf at approximately the same level as their own.
"Paracelsus," Vincent muttered darkly, almost to himself.
"The very same," came back the sardonic reply. "Did you think you had bested me, Vincent? Did you think that I was gone for good, dead or licking my wounds somewhere, never to be seen again?" His lip curled up in a sneer, the effect magnified by the ominous gold mask covering almost one full side of his face. "No, I am not so easily vanquished. I have resources even you would find difficult to discover, more difficult yet to control."
"Spare us your explanations," Vincent interrupted, a growl in his voice. "It's me you want, and now you have me. Let Catherine go."
"Let her go?" Paracelsus spoke then paused, as if seriously considering the suggestion. "Tell me, my dear," he said, directing his next words to her, "could you find your way back if I did?" He paused again, as if waiting for her response.
Catherine bit her lip, knowing she should support Vincent in his efforts no matter much how everything in her cried out against such a thing, that he would be in a better position to succeed against their rival without her to worry about. Apparently no reply was required, however, when an instant later the older man answered his own question.
"No, I don't think she could, my son."
"Don't call me that!"
The words were almost a snarl, and glancing sideways, Catherine saw Vincent pressed tautly to the bars, his hand reaching out as though he wished John Pater's neck were within its grasp.
"And you're mistaken in thinking it's you that I want," the other continued on, calmly ignoring the outburst. "Oh, once that was true, but I know now that it's too late for you to suit my purposes. All those years with Jacob have made you soft and weak. I do need you, however, to provide the means to my ends," he added enigmatically. "You… and her," he said, nodding toward the woman in the center cage.
Vincent's snarl escalated to a loud growl and he strained harder against the bars in response to those words.
"Yes, I see that you understand. Catherine, however, looks somewhat confused. Should I clarify the situation for her?"
Vincent's growls grew louder, and Catherine swung her gaze from one to the other, puzzlement plain in her expression.
"Once he was mine," the older man said, directing his words to her again. "I found him, I nurtured and cared for him, but he was stolen away by Jacob Wells, fool that he was and still is. I would have raised him to realize his full potential, brought out the skills and strengths so unique to him, but instead he was pampered and coddled, raised with the other tunnel brats to think himself no different than they, puny, insignificant beings that they are."
"Father raised me to be a thinking, reasoning man!" Vincent interjected, his voice full of fury. "He loved me and taught me everything I know. I owe him my life and more."
"Yes, weak and soft," the old man reiterated, a sneer still in his voice. "No, you are no good to me as you are, and you're too old to change now - I've finally accepted that. What I could have made of you as a child can still be done, however, with another, with your child," he said, pausing a moment to smile at the shocked look of horror slowly dawning upon her face. "Yours and Catherine's."
"No!" Vincent howled, hands grasping the bars in a futile attempt to rend them apart. "Never, Paracelsus, never!"
"Never is a long time, Vincent. I'm a patient man, but I don't believe I'll have to make much use of that virtue in this instance." Turning aside, he grasped a lever set in a series of similar devices, all on the wall behind him.
Far to the other side of the ledge, at the end of the cages on her other side, the metal door slid up to reveal the dark opening in the rock wall beyond. A rumbling, menacing growl, low and soft, could be heard first, followed by the sight of a large, pale figure as he ducked to clear the entrance. When he finally stood upright his face could be clearly seen - Erlich. Of even greater concern to them both, beyond the fact of his continued existence when at least Vincent still thought him dead, was the fact that he was completely naked and fully aroused. He was a very intimidating sight, taller and broader than Vincent, just as she'd speculated on a few minutes since. As to the rest, well it was impossible for her to judge, given the non-existent status of that part of hers and Vincent's relationship, but Erlich was huge in every way, she discovered, her eyes pinned with consternation upon his genitals. His fully erect penis bobbed heavily as he moved.
Catherine stood frozen in shock, staring at him in horror as she pressed back against the far wall of her cage, but Vincent was suddenly enraged to a frenzy, beating furiously against his own interior bars in the direction of the far cage where the other was currently restricted. The sounds he made escalated to snarling roars, frothing saliva spilling from sharp incisors now in plain view, making the menace of the other sound paltry by comparison. He strained through the bars in a feverish attempt to reach the giant there, but the other stayed wisely away on the other side of the cage between them, taunting him from the safety of his outer cage while eyeing the small woman beside him with a drooling grin of ferocious teeth.
"A gift for you, my dear," the older man replied politely, a smile of enjoyment curving his lips as he watched the wrath of his other prisoner unfold.
Catherine turned, ignoring the monster waiting in the far cage, to reach through her bars toward Vincent once more, imploring him with her voice, eyes and the urgent demand of their bond, trying desperately to calm him out of his sudden, raging fury.
"Look at me, Vincent, look at me!" she entreated fiercely.
It took a while, but finally she got through to him. Though the ferocious warrior didn't retreat completely, the rational side was able to reassert itself enough so that he could moderate his instinctive rage with a modicum of cold logic. His breath rasped quickly, his chest rising and falling with a frantic, frightening motion, but the inhuman sounds issuing from his throat diminished as his gaze turned to hers, obeying her command. Their eyes met and in his she read such rage and such terror that any other would have flinched away. She tried to move closer, desperately needing to touch him. The bond flooded through her suddenly, and her eyes widened as she realized that he had consciously initiated the opening of that channel to her, needing to touch her as well, the bond their only outlet now, physically separated as they were. The emotions filling him both frightened and reassured her in their frenzy. If anything could be done to prevent what that other's threatening presence implied, Vincent would do it, of that she was certain.
"I believe you remember Erlich?" Paracelsus' voice dropped into the sudden silence, politely calm, as though he were reintroducing old friends. A sardonic chuckle followed, however, belying any civil intent.
With one last, menacing look at the threat in the far cage, and assured of his containment, Vincent turned to the open ledge once more, grasping the bars to stare directly at the older man. His own voice, when it emerged, was raspy and hoarse, as though speech were physically difficult for him in this transition state, poised as he was between the light and the dark halves of his personality.
"You cannot do this, Paracelsus. This is beyond even you."
"Is it, Vincent? That's an interesting assumption, deserving of some thought. I'm going to give you something to think about as well. In five minutes I'm going to open two barred walls, thus linking an outer cage to the center one, to yours, my dear," he said, nodding to her in acknowledgment. His attention returned instantly, however, to Vincent, speaking his next sentence to him directly. "Whether that outer cage is yours or Erlich's is completely up to you and Catherine. The choice will be yours alone. You see, it appears you're right; I'm not a totally unreasonable man."
Vincent turned instantly and impatiently grasped the bars which separated him from Catherine, his choice plain.
"Not so fast," the cold voice intoned. "That would be far too easy. Naked we come into the world," he recited, then deviated from the original with his own ending, "and only naked shall you go on. Both of you."
They gasped in shock over his words, as their meaning became clear.
"Erlich has already met my conditions, as you can clearly see." He nodded toward the other, and both Catherine and Vincent turned with reluctant horror to observe him as well. He paced along the bars connecting his cage to the next one, growling lowly, his hot gaze pinned lasciviously upon her. He showed no sign of discomfort or embarrassment over his naked, tumescent state, and it was apparent that he was both anxious and ready to proceed, heedless of the presence or absence of any others.
Catherine hadn't a doubt in her mind that should the bars between herself and that one be opened, the very worst would occur. She would defend herself as best she could, of course, but she had little of use with her against such an opponent, even had her head still not been reeling with the after-affects of the chloroform. Vincent himself, with his unique attributes of defense, had succeeded only with great effort. The fate that awaited her at Erlich's hands was too gruesome to contemplate, and made all the worse by the knowledge that should such a thing occur, Vincent would be there to see it all, unable to save her. It would kill him, and she would rather die than have him endure such a thing. Now that was something that she might possibly be able to contrive…
No. Could anything be worse than that for Vincent? And truthfully, she was not willing to die for such a dubious virtue, as painful as the alternative was. No, she reiterated to herself firmly, there was only one acceptable option for either of them, as difficult as that would be for him - they must accede to Paracelsus' demands. They would be together then, not separated like this, and possibilities always existed when they were together.
"You have five minutes."
Catherine turned to Paracelsus in shock, noting that he now held his pocket watch in one hand. Everything disappeared around her for a moment but the sight of him, so casually implementing such evil intent. Blood rushed through her head as a furious anger built, filling her ears until she heard nothing else but the frightening whorl of it through her neck. Suddenly the silence disappeared, and she was overwhelmed by the fierce, challenging clamor of the men on either side. There were growls before her and growls behind, the sounds Vincent made growing to an ominous intensity, fueled by both the menace to her other side and her own building rage through their bond. She turned back to him and found him matching the other's movements with a threatening, stalking stride. He paced back and forth along his own barred enclosure, step for step with Erlich, his eyes burning with a feverish intensity which she had never before seen with such frightening clarity. His snarling growls sent a clear, menacing message; 'touch her and you die.' But Catherine knew that despite these actions, unless the bars could be breached, it was nothing more than useless posturing. Reaching through them once more, she called out to him.
"Vincent, Vincent!"
She had to repeat herself several times before his attention could be drawn from the man on her other side, but finally he stopped in front of her and grasped the bars to stare directly at her. His chest heaved with panting breaths and rough, rumbling growls, the sounds vibrating through his throat to emerge from his open mouth, past deadly incisors now clearly exposed. They echoed off the rocky walls surrounding them to combine with the other's fainter, more human growls. The result was an eerie wail in the pit below, as if they fought there once more, as they had a year ago.
"I need you to be here, with me, Vincent. Please, do what he asks."
"Good, girl. You have some sense in you, I see," Paracelsus commented dryly, adding, almost as an afterthought, "Four minutes."
She wanted to kill him, and it took everything in her not to turn on him with a vehement tirade, stopped only by the knowledge that it would accomplish nothing and waste precious time. Instead she kept her gaze focused on Vincent, trying to reach past the terror and rage, to the logical, thinking mind which was also there, albeit now swamped by those darker, primal emotions which were almost overwhelming in their severity.
"Please, Vincent, you have to listen to me. There isn't much time."
He growled again, louder, distracted for a moment by the movement of Erlich behind her, and she grew desperate, terrified that he would not be able to understand the urgency of their need in his chaotic state. Her stillness ended in an instant as she started to strip off her own clothing, remembering that Paracelsus' ultimatum had applied to them both and hoping that the shock of her actions would awaken him to the immediacy of their danger. Her sweater and T-shirt flew off quickly, followed by tennis shoes and stockings. The leggings followed, then finally, with only a barely noticeable pause, she stripped off her panties and bra, dropping them upon the pile of outer garments at her feet. Vincent watched her wide-eyed with shocked amazement, but Erlich's louder growls of excitement caught his attention immediately. His eyes narrowed abruptly with an intense ferocity that frightened her, and he threw his head back to let loose a full, reverberating roar, the threat there impossible to miss. Catherine spared a glance behind her for one moment, and was terrified by the sight that waited. The giant's arousal had only increased, and he now pounded against his bars, snarling to be let in.
"Over the edge, my dear," Paracelsus said, pointing down to the pit with one finger. "Three minutes," he added, glancing back at his pocket watch once more.
She didn't waste time arguing, grabbing the pile of clothing and tossing them, one by one, through the bars and down into the pit below. When she was finished she turned back toward Vincent. He paced furiously, in a frenzy, his eyes shifting continuously between her and the menacing figure on her other side while haunting growls, snarls and roars filled the chamber.
"Vincent, please!" She glanced behind her once more, the specter of the threat residing there impossible to ignore. "Please, Vincent, if you don't hurry, Paracelsus will let him in."
His howls of rage increased then, and strangely enough she was reassured. Now she knew that he not only heard her, but understood her words. There was still hope, though time was running out.
Just then, as if he'd heard her thoughts, Paracelsus spoke again, "Two minutes."
"There's no time, Vincent, please, do it now. I need you here!"
The fear and urgency in her voice and through their bond reached him easily; she felt it herself, the connection between them open and raw in its intensity. With a final, anguished howl, he tore his cloak from his shoulders and tossed it between the bars. It sailed 
like a great, black, winged creature before disappearing into the pit. The furious snarls were constant now, but he didn't pause, tearing at the intricate ties, buckles and corded wraps of his clothing in a rage. The leather ties of his vest were too much for his shaking fingers to handle, and he ripped them apart, throwing the garment through the rails. He didn't even try to unbutton his shirt, and the round metal disks flew in all directions as he tore it open. He pulled his thermal shirt over his head, taking the torn outer shirt with it, and threw both from him fiercely until his chest was bare, but despite the rapid progress made, Catherine wondered if the numerous layers and archaic fastenings still left could be managed in the time that remained, and whether Paracelsus would actually hold them to the strict recitation of time as he intoned it.
"One minute," he said, his words reinforcing her fears.
"Hurry, Vincent, hurry!" she cried.
With a snarling cry he tore the knee lacings from his boots, pulled them off and tossed them into the pit. The fastenings of his trousers were undone in an instant and they were quickly stripped down his legs and thrown aside as well. With a roar of pain and anger he turned to beat against the bars in Paracelsus' direction, his chest heaving with the emotional strain filling him.
"Excellent."
The older man spoke softly now, but Catherine heard him clearly.
"And just in time, too, I might add." He ignored the fierce howls coming from his adversary, and turned to pull one lever, then another.
A scraping sound filled the air as the two barred walls which separated Catherine from Vincent slid upward, turning the three cages on that half of the prison space into one open area essentially twenty-foot square in size. Vincent ducked through the gates while they were only half-opened, a snarling roar ripped from his throat. He didn't stop when he encountered her, but thrust her protectively behind him and rushed forward to grasp the bars on the far side of her enclosure, his frenzy increased by the nearer proximity to Erlich. He gnashed his teeth and howled in fury, straining between the bars, his claws fully extended in a desperate attempt to reach him.
Erlich beat his breast and bellowed fiercely, but backed away from the bars, sufficiently wary of the menace beyond. The big one's nails were as deadly as his teeth, he needed no reminder of that. He threw his head back and howled, enraged. The girl was supposed to be his!
"Not now, my friend, not yet. Perhaps another time, perhaps soon."
Paracelsus spoke softly, but the giant heard and understood. He pounded his fists against the bars once more, but then ceased and backed away, his eyes pinned hotly on the naked woman so close, yet out of reach. Vincent snarled his wrath at the retreating form, and though the other locked eyes with him for a moment, as if eager for a repeat encounter with his foe, he finally left the cage, disappearing into the yawning blackness of the door beyond.
"Very good, Vincent. I must admit that I wasn't completely certain as to what you would do under these circumstances. It appears love is indeed stronger than fear."
Vincent shifted his attention to the man on the other side of the chamber in an instant, his primal self still fully at the forefront. He threw himself against the front bars with a force that made Catherine gasp in pain, the sensations he felt alive in her through their bond. The figure beyond only smiled, then reached back to engage another lever. Both Vincent and Catherine turned as one of the sets of bars so recently opened began to lower once more. It was the barred wall to the furthest cage, the one which Vincent had been enclosed in, which connected to one of the exterior doors, and was already more than half-way down. Catherine glanced back at Vincent, wondering what he would do. For a moment it looked as if would make a dash toward it, but instead he reached forward and grabbed her, pulling her close, away from the second set of bars on the intermediate cage, in case it should engage as well. She could read his determination that they not be separated again, and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. The gate scraped softly as the bars lowered once more into the holes drilled in the floor, sinking at least a foot into that solid depth. The second set of bars stayed open, and finally Vincent released her to pace back and forth along the front bars of their cage, his eyes pinned continuously on Paracelsus on the far ledge. The space they were enclosed in was bigger than each had been in before, but smaller than a moment ago. It was still rectangular in shape about fourteen feet wide and twenty feet deep.
Catherine glanced at Vincent once more and saw that he was too immersed in those dark emotions to speak right now. She moved toward the bars, trying not to interfere with his pacing motion, determined to at least try to dissuade John Pater from his plans, desperately searching for the best way to reach through to one as far gone as he.
"I know you're a logical man, so even you must know that this won't work, you know it won't."
"Do I?"
"Even if such a thing were possible, do you really think you could keep us captive here for so long a period of time? That Vincent won't find a way out, or the others come for us? Vincent knew where I was, so others there probably do, too. The sentries will have noticed something. And even if they didn't, when both of us are found to be missing, they'll have to consider that we're somewhere below. They'll come looking for us, you know that."
"Perhaps," he conceded. "But I have sentries of my own. You didn't think Erlich was the only one, did you?" He chuckled at her naiveté. "Who can say what the future brings? You may escape, then again, others uptop, like that friend of yours before, may die in the attempt."
At those words, Vincent stopped his pacing and slammed against the bars again, roaring out his pain and rage at the reminder of Winslow's death, and at the man who had been the true cause of it.
Paracelsus chuckled again at the futility of his actions before speaking once more. "Either way, I'm willing to take that chance. You see, my dear, I have very little to lose regardless of the outcome, and much to gain."
"Please, John, I'm begging you, don't do this to him."
"My name is not John," he said, the polite civility of his voice replaced now with a cold wrath all the more deadly for its quiet intonation. "Who I once was is gone now, taken from me by that fool, Jacob Wells. I am what I am, thanks to him, and I will make him pay. What I lost, he will lose. He will grieve as I did, he will know my pain. Do you understand?"
Catherine stared at him, aghast. She hadn't thought, in the final analysis, that he was really capable of carrying forth such a plan, but now she knew that she was wrong, dead wrong. Vincent apparently knew it too, for Paracelsus' words had obviously gotten through to him as well. He pushed her back and moved to stand between her and the bars. His whole body shook, she could see that clearly, and she knew he struggled furiously to bring the other, more rational side of himself back, that his strength and rage would do no good now, with no physical foe to engage. He needed to think, to speak. She felt his struggle so clearly. A deep well of sympathy filled her and surrounded them both, and within that she tried to calm her thoughts, hoping that her efforts in turn would help calm his own. A moment later he drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and she felt a measure of control slide into place.
"Paracelsus," he called, his voice raspy and hoarse, "If you want to repay Father's theft, then do it with me."
"And what will I gain by that?" Paracelsus queried. "Will you live here below, among my other simple ones, never to see your love again? Will you obey my orders without question, hunt for me, kill for me, whether below or above?"
Vincent actually recoiled in horror at the thought of such a thing, leaning back until he touched her. Her hands came up to bracket his ribs, and she felt there the trembling of his body and the violent pounding of his heart.
"You know I will not. But I will die, not for you, but for her, and Father will grieve for me, as you once did. Find consolation in that."
"No, Vincent!" Her hands moved now, leaving his ribs to slide around his body, holding him to her with a desperate strength.
"So you will die, will you Vincent? I think that if you do, she will follow shortly. Am I right, my dear?" he asked, addressing his question to the woman behind him.
She didn't speak, but her arms tightened around him and she pressed her body closer, shaking with terror over what he proposed.
"If you choose death, I think you choose it for the both of you. Are you willing to do that?"
"No!" Vincent responded without a moment's hesitation, his denial fierce and absolute.
"I thought not," the other replied. "Then you will stay here, together. As you can see the accommodations are somewhat spare at the moment, but that will change with time, if you obey the few... requests... I have." He smiled as he chose that word over the more obvious one. He turned then and engaged yet another lever, and another set of bars began to slide upward.
Vincent and Catherine turned toward the sound, and they all watched as the outer cage where Erlich had once been was now opened to connect to the intermediate cage by the elimination of the intervening bars. A figure appeared in the entrance of the rock door, left open since Erlich's exit. It was Tamara. She gestured to the darkened interior and two servants entered at her bidding. Both were males, both large and hulking. They kept their eyes down, moving swiftly. One carried two pails by their handles, the other a large tray with a covered lid. They set them down just beyond the drilled holes where the bars had been, then retreated silently. Paracelsus must have re-engaged the lever once more, because the bars began their slide downward immediately, and when they were locked into the rock floor again, the pails and tray were within the small space directly next to Vincent and Catherine's cage. Tamara stayed a moment longer, scanning the two figures in the cage beyond.
"I really think you got the better deal, my dear," she finally said, addressing Catherine. "Erlich is perhaps better equipped, though I doubt by much." Her eyes perused Vincent's naked midsection speculatively. "Still, I doubt you would find him to be a very considerate lover, all things considered. Most of his... guests... aren't of much use to the others once he's through with them," she said with a smirk. Turning, she disappeared into the darkness and the metal door slid shut, both exits now blocked by a double barrier of bars and doors, a formidable obstacle to escape.
"Tamara is perhaps less discrete than I, but I believe she is correct in her assessment overall," Paracelsus added politely.
Both prisoners turned at the sound of his voice, but remained silent. They watched him engage yet another lever, then the bars of their cage opened on one side until the space containing the supplies just delivered was connected to their own. Only the outer two cages were closed off to them, and beyond them, seven feet from the bars that contained them, stood their only hope for escape, dim though that prospect seemed at the moment. Their new cage, composed of the previous, middle three, was almost square in shape, about twenty feet in both directions, and it was actually close to the size of Vincent's chamber, but there the similarities ended. There was no worn but warm rug beneath their feet, no antique furniture and finishings of polished wood and brass, no mellow glow from numerous candles scattered about them, no knickknacks and bric-a-brac collected over the course of thirty-some years inhabitance, no books to read, no cozy bed or quilted covers. There was only the threadbare mattress tossed haphazardly on the floor, two pails and a tray. The entire area of ledges, enclosure and pit was lit by three torches. Two rested outside of their prison, along the rocky wall and well out of reach, and the third sat in a niche on the shelf where Paracelsus now stood. The light from all three reached them somewhat, but none was within the space itself, and the reflected light was fairly dim, blessedly leaving some shadowed areas to the back of their prison.
Catherine's curiosity and thirst finally overcame her, and she went to the pails hoping that one contained water, her head still throbbing from the chloroform. Sure enough, one pail did contain what appeared to be water, with a ladle resting in it. Just as she reached for it, Vincent grasped her arm and pulled her back. He dipped his finger in, sniffed it, then sucked upon the wetness there, and after a moment's consideration nodded to her. Her arms trembled weakly as she raised the filled ladle, and suddenly it was taken from her hands. He held it for her as she drank thirstily. The water was excellent, cold and crisp, taken no doubt from one of the many underground river sources. He must have read her need, for he filled it again when she was through, and yet again after that, until finally she sighed, her thirst quenched. Only then did he take a long draught for himself. With barely a glance at the other pail, he turned to the tray, crouching beside it and lifting its lid to inspect the contents. A large loaf of bread and a round wheel of hard, yellow cheese rested there. He tore off a piece of bread, broke a hunk of cheese off from the wheel and handed both to her, then did the same for himself. She thought she might not be able to eat, but at the first sensation of food in her stomach, found herself suddenly ravenous. They ate silently, their food disappearing quickly.
"Our resources here are limited, as you well know," Paracelsus said dryly. "The selection is, unfortunately, meager, but the quantity will prove to be sufficient, I dare say."
They turned their attention back to him now, fortified by the food and water.
"We need blankets, Paracelsus. Catherine's not used to the cold temperatures below," Vincent said, his voice still not quite his own.
"Neither are you, Vincent, at least not in this condition," he replied with a chuckle. "Eventually, but not yet," he finally answered the other's question.
Just then another figure entered through the dark opening to his left, and all eyes focused there, the conversation halted. Tamara.
"Still talking, I see," she said dryly. "You are far too patient, Paracelsus."
"Now, now, let's not rehash this yet again, Tamara. I have my reasons, as you well know," he replied. Turning to his prisoners, he addressed them once more. "Are you familiar with the old European custom of a family member, often the mother or father, ensuring consummation on a couple's wedding night by actually being physically present?"