Concerned for the city’s inhabitants I telephoned the scientific institute of ghosts, ghouls and apparitions and asked to speak with anyone that might have information on werewolves and was lucky enough to find leading expert David Hempshore who had received an earlier call regarding the sighting in Central Park. He told me that due to the nature of the werewolf and of the fact that they are only visible at the time of a full moon a group of scientists and experts would be gathering in the park tonight and it was their concern that the general public for their own safety and that of the operation stay away from the area until further notice. This restriction applies only after the hours of daylight but more especially when the moon rises in the sky until it is large and round and full.
Naturally journalists will be out in full force tonight but it is hoped that onlookers among the general public will stay within the boundary of their own homes as their being in the park would be an undertaking at their own risk. If it can be believed that one bite from a werewolf would mean one turning into a werewolf oneself, even if the victim did survive the attack, this warning should not be taken lightly. For an extensive coverage of facts and figures of werewolf sightings please turn to the centre pages.

Joe paled and the newspaper in his hands shook. He had no idea where Cathy had spent the night but in all probability Central Park had been an area she may have chosen for ever since Joe had known her she had a great affinity with the place often going there after dark and seemingly fearlessly so. Joe checked his watch two hours to darkness if he hurried he might just make it in time to be there. For no matter what if whatsoever everyone had seen had been his wife he wanted to find her first. There was no telling what might happen to her if he didn’t. So fighting down hysterical laughter at how ridiculous he was behaving and how stupid his thoughts were Joe made preparations for a night spent under a full moon in the expectation of seeing nothing he might deem terrifying.

Buddy delivered the New York City newspaper, leaving it on the front porch where he hoped Catherine might find it when she returned from wherever she had gone. He’d called that morning but she had been out then as well, and there was no telling whether she had decided to return to the city and he did not like to use his spare set of keys to enter the house to find out. He walked around to the aviary, checked that the birds were happy then called his dog. He whistled and whistled but the dog did not come, and Buddy went back around to the front of the house noticing that the newspaper had mysteriously vanished but so had Catherine’s car appeared in the drive. Assuming she had returned home and taken the newspaper inside with her Buddy called for his dog again and finally found him slinking out from beneath a large shrub wagging his tail and looking as though he might have been getting into mischief. Still Buddy did not notice as he hooked the dog’s collar to its lead undecided about seeing Catherine, drew the conclusion that it would be better if he saw her another night instead as he was pushed for time. So letting his dog jump into the rear of his car Buddy got into the driver’s seat and did not notice as he backed out of the drive bits of tattered newspaper tumbling from beneath the bush that Timba had come from and blowing across the lawn. Only Timba noticed as he spat the remnants of a carefully rolled newspaper from his mouth and hoped his master would not be too cross when he discovered that he hadn’t been gentle about carrying the newspaper home again.

Inside the house Catherine watched Buddy back out of the drive and appreciated the fact that he hadn’t come to check on her. Her friends were good people, they understood the need for solitude and each knew that the other would be there when asked and until then being of a similar type they preferred to work out their own problems in their own time. Catherine was grateful for that and moved from the window into the kitchen to unpack her groceries. Tonight she intended spending more time outside and with candles spread around her she hoped to imagine that she was below with Vincent and could meditate and feel him close again thus returning to her from wherever he had gone. Maybe they might be able to cross over and join together, for still believing that Vincent had died Catherine assumed his spiritual form would appear to her and tell her of things unknown like where he had gone and why and what had happened to him. Remembering Kristopher Gentian Catherine had no qualms about the possibility of such things, she just knew that the timing and the situation had to be just right in order for it to happen. And so with hope in her heart Catherine prepared for the night ahead with butterflies that danced inside her in expectation of things to come.

The ghostly howl had Joe slamming on his brakes as he drove through Central Park before dark. He’d seen groups of people gathering at various points in the park but did not want to be anywhere near them choosing instead to sit and armed with binoculars watch for a sight of his wife knowing her as only he would, by the tilt of her head, her bodily mannerisms, her height and stature and the clothing that she wore. But he could not for the life of him believe that Catherine would turn into anything animalistic and become something he did not recognise.

Pressing the button to close the electric windows Joe scanned the park directly around him but could see nothing and slowly putting the car into gear he moved forward again bringing the car to rest eventually at his designated place where from there he could see clearly all around for at least a hundred yards distance enough he assume to notice anything that moved. There positioning his mirrors so that he might see any movement as it happened, he waited, turning up the radio only slightly for entertainment so as not to drown out that other eerie sound he had heard on his way into the park. Surely Catherine did not lift up her head and howl to the moon did she? Deep in thought he almost wet himself when a group of youths jumped his car laughing and howling like wolves pretending to scratch at his windscreen and windows. Joe’s heart hammered but he refrained from opening the windows and quickly pressed the switch for central locking realising how dangerous an assignment he had set himself so far away from the other groups of personnel setting up camp for the night around about the park and especially where most of the previous night’s sightings had come from. The youths moved away, bounding across the grass with whoops of laughter and howls of wolves until they had vanished from Joe’s sight and once again he tried to relax while keeping his eyes glued on every little movement all around.

By midnight his lids drooped and he fought to stay awake, wishing he had had the foresight to have brought a flask of strong black coffee. And then he laughed and once he started found it impossible to stop. What was he doing? His wife was not a werewolf and if such things did exist it would be a miracle that he’s ever see one. Joe made a snap decision to go home and forget his stupidity and quick before anyone recognised him and that became public knowledge too but first he had to stretch his legs and no way was he leaving his car, so…Joe fiddled with the knob at the side of his seat and felt it fall back so that he could lay out fully and stretch his legs. That bit no problem it was when he went to wind his seat back up again that he met with the difficulty. The upward turns had always been tricky to manipulate when anyone was actually in the seat and getting into the passenger side was no option because from there he could not reach the knob. Joe scrambled into the back but with the driver’s seat laid down against it he found he had to lean over it to reach the knob and that rendered the situation impossible since he placed his weight upon it again. Too late Joe realised what he would have to do in order to drive his car out of the park and that was to get out and bend down by the drivers seat to wind it back up into place. His bravery of moments ago left him and Joe looked all around wondering what to do. Across the park he could see the lights of cigarettes as people waited in near darkness for the appearance of their werewolf but where he was he could see anything that moved for a hundred yards or more by the lamps that illuminated the area all around.

Reprimanding himself for his stupidity and their stupidity, Joe leaned toward the dashboard and flicked back the central locking switch so that he might open the rear door and alighting from it walked around to the driver’s side where he opened that door to begin the chore he had made for himself. It was a second’s job and the seat came up rapidly until it was positioned where he favoured, it was as he attempted to get into the vehicle that he felt something tugging against his trouser leg and looking down gazed into the menacing eyes of something that growled and loudly so. Joe physically wet himself and two sensations hit at once, fluid from the region of his groin joining a wet warmth from his knee down and then a split second of nothing before he felt the penetrating bite of something hard and painful landing all around his left leg. Joe screamed and fought and kicked with his foot and the thing, the dog, the creature whatever, came at him again and again biting hard and snarling heavily, teeth gnashing and foam splattering around its jaws. Then came an ear splitting sound that Joe had never heard in all his life and the menacing animal was tumbling away and back across the grass as if thrown there. Joe didn’t wait to see, didn’t linger, he pulled his injured leg into the vehicle and slamming the engine into life switched on the headlights intent on driving like a maniac from the park, when…in the light from the main beam he saw something that rocked his world, a creature, upright on two legs long hair tumbling around his shoulders and down his back and cloaked from head to foot in some kind of weird eighteen century garment, but it was that face that left Joe terrified, that face compete with fangs, the face of a lion on the head of a man and it spoke one name a name that Joe recognised as his own “Joe!” And at the sound of the name, Joe screamed slammed down the central locking and with a squeal of tyres burst from his clearing like a bat out of hell.

Though Catherine prepared well that night by three am she declared it time to give up. The moon had moved from the centre of the sky and was disappearing on one side as the first wisps of dawn lighted the other leaving Catherine feeling desolate and sad that nothing had happened as she had hoped.

There had been one fleeting moment when she thought it might but the feeling was gone in an instant and there had been nothing more to encourage her to expect anything else and so she went back to the house feeling sadder than she had in a long time vainly hoping that tonight she might feel something from Vincent again, the only other explanation was one Catherine did not want to accept, that she had imagined everything, and Vincent hadn’t been trying to contact her after all was more than she could bear.

Recovering in hospital Joe’s private room was besieged by reporters and hospital staff were having a terrible job keeping them from bothering their patient. Finally his doctor by Joe’s permission held a press meeting telling them all, “It was a dog bite, nothing more nothing less and there is nothing to show that the dog carried any form of rabies so Mr Maxwell would like to be left to recover in peace.”

From his room Joe could just hear his doctor’s voice, and he supposed after such a revelation the reporters would go, but then one voice above the crowd had Joe frozen to the spot. “I heard today that Mr Maxwell’s wife has a strange affinity with the moon and she appears to have vanished, would Mr Maxwell care to elaborate on those facts.” A hushed silence descended a moment and then everyone started speaking at once, the doctor was rudely forced aside and Joe watched as the door to his room opened and reporters and cameramen hurried in snapping his picture and vying for first position to get his story. “Is it true Mr Maxwell? Does your wife have an obsession with the moon?” “Do you know where she is?” “Have you seen her turn into a werewolf?” “Would she try to kill you?” Joe’s head swam, “Get out of here, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Security rushed in and cleared the room and his doctor apologised profusely. “That’s alright,” Joe told him, “there was nothing you could do.”

“Even so,” His doctor informed him, “I really think you wood be better resting at home, there are other patients here and they need their rest, it is unfair to assume that they’ll get it with the hospital besieged by reporters.”

“I understand,” Joe told him, “But can I just spend the day. I really don’t feel like leaving here just yet.”

The doctor nodded, and making a final check on his patient left him in peace. A kind of peace, for last night Joe’s peace of mind had been shattered when he had seen that creature and heard it speak as it had recognised him and he knew that the reporters had been right. His wife did turn into a werewolf beneath the light of a full moon.

Back under the city park Vincent sat on the sandy floor of the cave he called home and pondered what had happened the night before.

There had been an eerie sense about the park last night, it was quieter than usual, but scents told him that more people clustered in one place than ever before. The powerful smell of cigarette smoke had filtered across to where he had sniffed the air assessing the dangers that might be out there before he had quietly left the storm drain up into the park. He was used to groups of people and on occasion had strayed closer than he had dared to a concert with its rows and rows of chairs placed for its audience to partake of the music. Many scents at these times assailed Vincent’s nostrils, but last night had been uncannily different. It was almost as if people were waiting in expectation of something and Vincent gave them a wide berth not wishing to be caught up in anything that might prove detrimental to him. Therefore with his love of the moon Vincent had been forced to walk pathways he rarely trod with a keen sense of apprehension as one would an unknown route.

Everything had almost been alright, he had managed to pay homage to his moon and get back near the safety of his domain when he had noticed a large dog running toward a parked car and that wasn’t all, the driver was outside of the vehicle seemingly fiddling with the seat with the car door wide open. The dog’s mannerisms depicted that of a hunter and the stealth way he skirted the vehicle before lunging on in told Vincent that his attentions would be met unfavourably. So Vincent had done the only thing open to him, he had run across the grass intent on doing whatever he could without being seen to aid the poor fellow that was being so savagely attacked.

There was no problem with that, Vincent had on occasions come to the aid of some misfortunate soul attacked by the four or two legged kind, but he had always been careful not to show his face. This time though it had been different and Vincent chided himself on his stupidity. He should have realised that the moment the driver was back in his car he would turn on the headlights and they would illuminate his saviour and it had been in that moment that Vincent had recognised the man though from where he did not know, could not remember ever having met him before but by the look of stunned amazement on the fellow’s face, Vincent had been right when he had called him Joe. The thing was who was he? And how did he know him and from where, when?

That was the thing that rankled on Vincent’s mind the most, and each time he tried to remember all he got was some elusive flitting memory speeding on through his mind where he could not catch up with it. The man meant something, but Vincent did not believe that they were ever friends, that fact had been noticed the night before, as this ‘Joe’ hadn’t seemed to know him, only issued him with the usual shock and fear he had seen upon people’s faces a hundred times and more when they first clapped eyes upon him.

Vincent sighed, somewhere in this world, he thought, someone must know me, how can I know others and they not know me? And what of Catherine? Who was she? And how did she fit into the picture? Because whenever he thought of Joe, the memory of Catherine would be hot on its heels. Were they linked? Did they know one another? More importantly and apart from those two people, were there others that knew him, and if there were then where would he find them?

Time was unimportant to Vincent, he little concept of days and hours and had no way of knowing how long he had wandered in and out of the park or where he had actually originated from. He knew that he was different and so far had not encountered anyone that looked like him, and because of that, because of being the only one in the great mankind melting pot Vincent was afraid to be seen lest something terrible happened that might meant the end of his existence as he knew it such that it was. He scavenged at night raiding dumpsters and the clothing that he wore was becoming tattered and stinking. His boots had holes in the soles and he had nothing to call his own save for the ragged clothes upon his back. His sandy cave was void of light, but Vincent found he needed none, his acute sense of eyesight gave him night vision but how he wished for something more substantial than seeing the park after dark night after night.

At first all this had been wonderful for him, emerging from the darkened tunnels into a world un-limitless, until Vincent discovered that amid the beauty of tree and grass and even with the great tapestry of celestial lights above him life did have its limits and he was bound by them more than most. And he had felt the aloneness of his solitary existence but for that strange phenomenon that had curled around him two nights ago, when the name Catherine had flitted through his mind and he had known straight away that she, whoever she was, meant something to his life. If only he knew where to find her. He had hoped last night that he might feel that distinctive tug on his heartstrings, and thought that perhaps it had just begun to happen when he had seen that crazed dog heading for Joe Maxwell’s car. Vincent sat bolt upright, Maxwell! Joe Maxwell! Where did that come from? How did he know? Who on earth was the fellow that he should know his surname also?

Vincent shook his head as much as he tried to force the memories the more solidly persistent they became not to reveal to him anymore than he could handle at one time, but it was frustrating and nerve wracking and the not knowing was sending him just as crazy as the little he did know. He would have to learn to be patient, maybe his memory would return more quickly if he didn’t try to force it and Vincent just hoped it would be soon.

Joe returned home later that day, his head was in a whirl and he desperately needed to sleep, but knew he would need to be exhausted before he would encounter that blessed respite for each time he closed his eyes with the intention of rest all he saw was that monstrous face and could not for the life of him understand how a beautiful one such as Catherine could turn into something like that, it beat him but what other explanation was there? Not only that by moments earlier she had taken the mere guise of a dog and then in a split ear deafening second had become that…that thing!

Joe supposed he ought to be thankful, for had she remained doglike he might not have lived to see her transform into that other and hear her call his name, although her voice was nothing like he had expected, but then so was her appearance unlike anything he had ever expected. And had she remained doglike she might never have recognised him and stopped her attack. And how had she known he was there? She must have recognised his car or been waiting there when he had arrived or something, but didn’t werewolves only come out after dark or more especially when the moon was full? What did they do the rest of the time? Joe supposed they returned to being ordinary housewives a frightening thought really, because anyone could be one, and they didn’t just have to be women or maybe they were all astrologers, maybe therein laid the link Joe decided, and knew he would give star gazers a wide berth in future.

After too much thinking and assuming one hour later Joe’s stomach reminded him it was well past time to eat and he rustled something up from his kitchen trying not to notice how sore his leg was, then that done settled into an armchair to watch some television, or more especially the evening news. He shouldn’t have been surprised to note that there was wild speculation on his attack the night before, but he was, and nothing was mentioned of the dog bite, everyone went straight to the idea that he had been attacked by a werewolf and as such ought to have been in isolation or captivity or whatever one did in such a circumstance. Joe hadn’t thought about that. His doctor had been adamant that it had been a dog bite, but both Joe and the rest of the world assumed it was more than that, so had his hunger been for something more substantial than a cheese and salad sandwich? Was that why he had searched the fridge for beef and was annoyed when he found it had all gone?

Fear chased through Joe, if he had been bitten by a werewolf then how soon could he expect hair to grow over his body, long doglike hair, how long before he had fangs like that thing had last night? How long would it be before he too was howling up at the moon? Come to that how had the reporters known about his wife doing likewise? The reply was swift as Joe looked out at the garden by lifting the curtains he had drawn, he noticed torches blazing over the tops of the walls that flanked his garden and knew that someone, some of his neighbours had seen Catherine outside under a full moon once too often and two and two had made five. But then hadn’t his addition been just the same? And where was Catherine if not out in that park?

In expectation of it, Joe still jumped when a loud hammering sounded on his door. He swigged down the wine he had poured himself and hobbled to answer unsurprised at the group of personnel that stood facing him, his doctor among them. “Mr Maxwell for your own safety and the safety of the public we would ask you to accompany us please we are going to hold you in custody for further tests will you come quietly?” Joe nodded, “You’ll get no trouble from me.” He told them but then they asked the six million dollar question, “Where’s your wife Mr Maxwell, can you tell us?” Joe shook his head, “I don’t know, she’s left me.” He replied.

“When?”

“Day before yesterday. I don’t know where she is, and she left her cell phone behind.” They believed him there was nothing else they could do, but still they informed him they had a warrant to search his home. “Feel free.” He told them co-operating as best he was able, nothing he might do would stop them anyway, and he wanted to know where Catherine was just as much as they did.

“Do you know if you’re wife is with friends, Mr Maxwell?”

Joe shook his head, “I thought of that, one lives out at Westport, and though I’ve been calling there is no reply. I managed to get through to another friend in the city later today and she tells me that the people at Westport are on vacation and the house is locked up. No one seems to have seen my wife so if you find out where she is I trust you’ll let me know? I need her signature on our divorce papers.”

They promised they would and Joe was led away to a waiting van with bars at the window, yet he did not feel like a criminal, he felt safe in some strange way, safe from himself and whatever he might be capable of, because the one thing he did know, was that once a person had been bitten by a werewolf it was only a question of time before they became one themselves and silently he wondered if the gun carried by the police in attendance were loaded with silver bullets. So sure was he that Catherine was a werewolf he decided they might need them.

Catherine watched the news in fear, she saw live footage of her husband being led away into an armoured vehicle and she heard the suspicion in his voice as he had replied to the questions surrounding her whereabouts and of their divorce and with a sense of hysterical disbelief Catherine knew that Joe truly believed that she was a werewolf. Good job they didn’t know where she was, but what frightened her more at that moment was something that so far no one else had thought of, where did the werewolf if there was one, reside during the day? Instantly Catherine’s mind flew to the tunnels beneath the city and all who would be terrified that at any moment their world would be discovered as the hunt for the werewolf got underway, and Catherine knew that no matter what and no matter how she had to help them remain undiscovered even if that meant pretending that she was indeed a werewolf to prevent such a search from taking place.

Down in the tunnels people were indeed worried they had heard the news of the werewolf and though they did not entirely believe it the idea that the authorities would pursue the hideout of such a creature led directly to one place alone, the tunnels beneath New York City.

The council had several meetings over the past week with nothing substantial coming from them and Father noted that Pascal was quieter than most rarely giving his opinion or input and the patriarch of the tunnels decided to take the master of the pipe chamber aside and ask him some questions. So as soon as everyone had left and Father noted Pascal made his slow exit at the back of the group as usual as if he lingered undecided about something, Father called him back and noted amazingly that Pascal seemed delighted that he had.

“You seem distracted, Pascal, is something wrong?”

“Aye, something and nothing, and it is probably nothing but it just won’t leave me alone, I can’t stop thinking about it Father.” Father smiled indulgently, “Best tell me what’s on your mind Pascal, I can only help if you do.” Pascal smiled, “Aye, I know. Well its like this, how probable do you think it could be that the werewolf everyone is seeing is actually Vincent?” Father’s eyes opened wide and he gasped, “You can’t be serious?”

“Why not? None of us know where Vincent went to oh I know there was speculation that he threw himself into the abyss, but I can’t see Vincent doing something like that, even if he weren’t of his right mind.”

“Desperate means create desperate deeds Pascal, and you saw him, he was savage.”

“And what if he still is, only he has wandered above for all and sundry to see, only being that they haven’t clapped eyes on the likes of Vincent in their lives they grasp at the next best thing, a werewolf.” Pascal waited for Father to speak, his pallor had changed and he looked awfully unwell, “I’m sorry father, I know how frightening this must sound to you, but we shouldn’t wipe out the possibility because of it, personally I think we should try to check out this theory and see if it does have any foundation.”

“Yes it is a theory and as such I think we should forget it.” Pascal was stunned, “But Father…”

“No buts Pascal, Vincent wouldn’t go above and expose himself, he just wouldn’t, whether he is of sound mind or not the possibility of him doing so is far too remote. Vincent’s in built senses would highlight him to danger and he just wouldn’t expose himself like that.”

“Supposing he’s blind or something has happened to his mind, suppose he doesn’t realise what he is doing?”

“And suppose he’s dead and can’t do anything!” Father snapped. “No, you’re wrong Pascal, Vincent has had a lifetime to know that up top is off limits to him, and if he were blind or insane he would be up top during the day not just at night, so bang goes that theory.”

Pascal grew angry, a sight rarely seen, and retorted, “You are placing too much import on your own personnel feelings and what the Vincent of old would and would not do. I say it’s a possibility, or do you really believe in werewolves?”

About to answer, Father stopped when Mary dashed into the chamber, “Father, Father, the newspapers, look!” She spread them before him and Father, Mary and Pascal gazed down at the photographs of Catherine Chandler and Joe Maxwell, the latter in custody the former had vanished.

“That’s Catherine!” Father cried, and began to read that Joe had been bitten by a large creature believed to have been a werewolf and that his wife before her disappearance had been seen month after month howling up at the moon.

“It’s preposterous!” Father ejaculated. “What is this, some kind of belated April Fool’s prank? Catherine would no more howl at the moon than I would…would…”Father grappled for a comparison and finding none finished with “Eat my chess set!”

“Strange that she should be missing though, not that I believe the report mind,” Pascal added quickly, “I wonder where she is, in light of the fact that Vincent is missing too. Do you think she had an inkling as to his whereabouts and went in search of him?”

Father only half heard what Pascal said, “It says here that she married Joe Maxwell.” He looked up in time to see nervous glances pass between Mary and Pascal, “You knew?” He asked them incredulously, “And you didn’t inform me?”

“We thought it would upset you. It was a year ago.” Pascal told him and Mary added, “She was pregnant and the wedding was very hush, hush but we found out about it anyway.”

“So she has a child.” Father spoke softly, but Mary shook her head, “No, that’s how we found out, one of the helpers recognised her in hospital, she lost the baby, had a miscarriage in her forth month. And by what was said, all Catherine was concerned with at that time was the whereabouts of Vincent. The helper was surprised that she showed no grief for the loss of her baby and neither did she talk about her husband unless prompted. I think it must be an unhappy arrangement, and probably occurred because she was expecting. I can’t imagine Catherine marrying anyone ever, she loved Vincent too much.”

“That’s why I am so shocked, I could not see that either. I had visions that she would die an old maid never wishing to love again, and would cocoon herself in the memory of Vincent and be happy with that.” Father told them. “Despite what Vincent might have wished for her, she remained loyal to him throughout his life, and I’m certain the same would have been true after his death.”

“You don’t know that he’s dead!” Pascal shouted now, “And for what its worth I’m going to follow through on my idea and see if he is alive!”

Mary’s mouth dropped open, “Vincent’s alive?” Her eyes were bright with hope and excitement.

“Pascal believes there might be a possibility that he is the city’s werewolf.” Father filled her in.

Mary gasped, “I too wondered about that.”

“You did?” Pascal asked excitedly.

“Me and several others, we don’t believe in werewolves but Vincent up top for whatever reason now that’s a certain possibility.”

“So looks like I’m out voted.” Father was peeved and he looked it too.

“You dispute the idea?” Mary was surprised, “I thought you of all people would support it. Or is it that having come to accept the possibility of Vincent’s death, you do not wish to believe anything else, in case your hopes are dashed. None of us can live life like that Jacob, and if its so, if it Vincent, he’ll need our help.”

“My sentiments exactly, have the others got any ideas?” Pascal asked dismissing Father entirely. Father was annoyed, “If they have I trust they’ll run them by me before any action is taken!” He fumed.

“That depends whether you are with us or not there is no room for hostility Father, so what’s it going to be?” Pascal asked. Father was quiet but could not deny that any hope no matter how slight had to be followed through, “Just keep me informed that’s all I ask, of your plans and this.” He tapped the newspaper spread on his desk before him, “I want no more secrets, I do not need wrapping in cotton wool, do you promise?” Mary and Pascal grinned, they had known he would react this way whenever he found out and they promised they would not keep him in the dark any longer.

“Good, good, now rally everyone round and we’ll discuss this, we need a thorough plan and then I want regular updates okay?”

Pascal and Mary moved as one toward the exit to the chamber. It felt good to be doing something, for too long too much complacency had settled over the tunnel inhabitants and nothing was ever quite the way it was with Vincent gone. But even if Vincent was returned to them with Catherine married to Joe Maxwell the chances of it ever being the way it was again were very remote indeed.

Catherine was of like mind, still Joe was a good man and he didn’t need what was happening to him and if he said he’d been bitten by a dog then that’s what it would have been, the authorities were just jumping to the wrong kind of conclusions. Still what she could do about it was something else. She’d given the whole thing a great deal of thought over the last twenty four hours and rather than waltz in there and show she was not a werewolf and did not transform upon the rising of a full moon she decided it would be better not to mention the thing at all, but rather just return to her house, and no doubt someone would be waiting for her to do that, let them know where she had been and feign ignorance of what had been happening in the city while she had been gone. After all she didn’t have to have been watching television and she hadn’t seen Buddy since he had called two days beforehand, Catherine giggled, maybe he thought she was a werewolf too? Unfortunately that possibility proved true when Catherine about to leave Nancy’s house later that day suddenly found the place surrounded with police and government officials intent on escorting her back to the city where medical personnel were waiting to carry out tests on her. And behind them, just on the outskirts, and if it hadn’t been for his black and white dog Catherine may never have noticed, but there was Buddy anxiously keeping out of sight and Catherine realised he had in fact reported her whereabouts to the authorities when he stepped forward as she was being bundled into the back of a van reserved for criminals and told her, “It was for your own good Cathy,” Buddy shook his head, “I don’t really believe it of course, but they needed to know where to find you all the same if only to rule it out.” Catherine said nothing a friend turned traitor was no friend at all.

“Anything you say may be taken down and given in evidence…” As her rights were being read Catherine had an overwhelming desire to say “Woof.” But refrained from so doing, simply because they didn’t look as if they might find it humorous. So she said nothing and once her rights had been dealt with they began driving her back to the city where all manner of things awaited her.

Night time found Vincent deciding not to go above, something had occurred during the previous nights and he had a bad feeling about circumstances happening that would be to his detriment, so he wandered aimlessly through his underground world until he came to the area beneath the docks and with the scent of fish urging him onward he lifted the manhole cover that would lead him to the container that held the remains of the late afternoon’s catch. He’d done this a hundred times and never encountered anyone, but then he had to admit he generally leaned into the huge container swept a handful of fish out and hurried back to his safe place. This night though something made him linger, there were other strong scents to explore and leaving his fish in the container he sought them out.
He followed carefully, dismissing the usual smell of oil that worked the forklifts around the dockside and concentrated on that other much stronger smell identifying it as gasoline the sort he had smelt on vehicles that had just refilled at gas stations. Cautiously Vincent approached the back of a large container rounding it carefully on the outside sniffing for anything that might reveal his predicament and danger to come. Then satisfied he listened intently and thought he could smell fire. Now ears alert Vincent looked about him trying to establish where the fire came from and at that moment heard from within the chamber a sound of outcry. At once he realised that someone was inside the container and Vincent went to the door found it padlocked and ripping off the lock slid the container door open. With the blast of air that came behind it Vincent’s night vision took in the full detail of the inner container, seeing first a young man crouched and whimpering at the back of the container and heading toward him at an alarming rate a lighted taper and the overpowering smell of gasoline hit Vincent’s nostrils as the fellow at the back began to move. From that Vincent could see that he was bound and gagged and running into the container Vincent began stamping on the flame but the fellow within made sounds that indicated this was the wrong thing to do. Vincent realised that was so when the flame sparked and set off a trail of other smaller flames at its side all heading toward the back of the container, and in that instance Vincent knew what was happening. The fellow at the back had been doused in gasoline and the taper set alight in order to kill him. Two thoughts swept through Vincent’s mind, he could take off his cloak and throw it over the flames, but since that might feed the fire he decided instead to jump the flames and head toward the captive. With the moonlight behind the man had no way of knowing what Vincent looked like, but he felt his power when Vincent slung him up and over one shoulder and headed back out of the container running along the dock and to the water’s edge intent on throwing the man into the sea if he found that the fire had grabbed a hold in passing. Still as he placed the fellow to the ground he was relieved to see that the fire had remained in the container but the fellow doused in gasoline was still very much in danger. “Here, take off those clothes. Wait here.” Then Vincent ran to a store where he knew he would find worker’s overalls and grabbing a bundle raced back to hand them to the naked man waiting on the dock for his return. “Put these on and give me those.” Vincent asked but picked up the discarded clothing himself and then ran back to the container and threw the clothing inside where it ignited instantly and Vincent shut the door and ran back to the fellow dragging his now clothed body back toward safety. When the container exploded moments later the man asked, “Why did you do that, the fire might have gone out without the fuel?”

“Because whomsoever placed you in there will be expecting that you died and were incinerated, and by the time the police discover that there was no body you will have had time to escape from whoever it is that wanted you dead.” Vincent kept his hood very firmly in place but the fellow was curious, “And to whom do I owe my life?” He edged closer trying to see, but Vincent warned him, “No closer, please, I’m not like other men.”

“I’m not afraid” and to Vincent’s surprise the man drew out something shiny from around his leg and held a knife toward him. “Shame you had to free the wrong man. You see some would have been greatly relieved to know that I had died tonight.” Vincent gasped, “And I’d just like to be able to tell them what my saviour looked like.” The fellow lunged at Vincent missing him by an inch as Vincent jumped back but by so doing his hood fell away and his face was revealed in the light of the moon.

“What the! What are you!” The fellow cried edging away terrified.

Vincent did not wait around, seeing his moment of escape he ran full pelt away from the area, climbing boxes, up on top of containers, up to the rooftops themselves and away hearing the sound of running footsteps close behind and the curses as the man could not climb so swiftly as Vincent could. Eventually Vincent lost him, but the oncoming police and fire brigade meant that his way back through the manhole cover was no longer a possibility and neither was his dinner, so he had no choice but to return to the tunnels via that other entrance, namely Central Park.

“Cathy!”

“Joe!”

“Now come on you two can save the happy reunion till later, we’ve got work to do.” Catherine was led between two officers to a room where she was to be examined and then placed in custody in a cell alongside her husband. Neither knew that a listening device had been placed there to record everything they might say to one another and when she was at last settled in her cell while the tests were being raced to the laboratory at the hospital, the device was switched on to start recording.

“Cathy, where the hell have you been?” Joe asked the moment she was escorted to her cell.

“I was staying in Westport. At Nancy’s.”

“But she is away on holiday.” Joe told her suspiciously.

“Hey what is this, never heard of house sitting?” Catherine looked at him shrewdly, “Don’t tell me you believe this werewolf garbage Joe, I don’t believe it!” And she laughed loudly at such an idea. "So what did you see, an insy wincy doggie with big teeth?”

“No I saw the face of a lion and huge fanglike teeth!”

All humour drained away from Catherine and she became deathly serious, “You sure about that Joe?”

“Course I’m sure. But then you’d know that wouldn’t you, you were there.”

“Me?” Catherine shook her head vigorously, “Not me, I was at Nancy’s till a few hours ago, have been since I last saw you. Tell me more about what you saw?”

“Aw come off it Cathy, if it wasn’t you then who was it?”

With a far away look in her eyes, Catherine whispered, “Vincent.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes you did, you spoke his name, what’s his name you said Vincent.” Joe stared at his wife with the oddest look she had seen him bear, “You said he was different Cathy, you don’t mean…oh Christ don’t tell me he looks like that!”

Catherine hardly heard him her heart was racing, ‘if Joe had seen Vincent…then he was alive…and oh.’ Catherine paled and began to tremble violently, ‘if that was Vincent he was in dire need of rescuing because any time now he was going to be shot or captured if he was up in the park tonight. The army had been drafted in and they were intent that come what may by morning they had snared their ‘wolf’.

“Tell me it’s not him Cathy, tell me you didn’t love that!” Joe was shouting bringing Catherine out from her reverie, “What? Yes I love him and you don’t know him, Joe!”

“I know enough Cathy, he almost took my leg off!”

“That wouldn’t have been Vincent. If he was there and you were in trouble he would have been helping you.” A flash of remembrance flew through Joe’s mind, there had been a dog, wild and savage and then the dog had bowled away and then there had been him! Joe had linked everything together at the time and in one fluid motion had the dog turning into Vincent, but if there had been two separate creatures that night, then Cathy was right, this Vincent had saved him from being savaged to death by a crazed dog.

“It still doesn’t tell me how the werewolf fits in Cathy, if it’s not him, then who is it?”

“That’s what we would like to know, Mrs Maxwell you are under oath, who is Vincent and what is Vincent?”

Joe saw the panic in his wife’s eyes and loyalty kicked in, whomsoever this Vincent was he owed him his life, and as Catherine’s eyes appealed to Joe for help he told the officers, “An extremely large dog but a friendly one, it chased the savage one away because believe me it looks terrifying, but it was in no way a werewolf, my wife has seen it before you see.”

The officers looked to Catherine and her face relaxing she carried on with the lie “Joe’s right, I know this dog, he looks awful, coat in tatters, and with the strangest looking face one has ever seen, but he’s a friendly animal and obviously well cared for as he doesn’t appear undernourished in any way. My guess is his owner is close by and it was just as well that the dog was in the park the other night so that it could save my husband’s life.” The officers looked between Joe and Catherine with disbelief, “Then whose Vincent?” They asked together, Catherine had forgotten that bit, “He is he wears a tag around his neck with his name on. I’ve known him for years.”

Sceptically the officers looked at one another not sure what to believe, but later when the tests came back revealing that Catherine carried one hundred percent human blood and nothing untoward was found in her gut there was nothing they could hold her on, and she was released an hour later. Joe too, they went out together but only the two of them knew that wasn’t the end of the matter, and as they sat at home one each on Catherine’s dinky sofas Joe said as much.

“So what’s to happen now Cathy? Will you be going back to him?”

“I thought he was dead Joe, I have to, I love him so much.” Joe nodded, his heart was breaking and this was not the time to tell her how much he loved her too.

“I applied for a divorce Cathy, when the papers arrive I’ll sign them.”

“Thanks Joe.”

There didn’t seem anything else to say and Catherine went upstairs to lie down and try to decide what she should do about the rest of her life and about Vincent, because though it were obvious to her that it was him, as far as she knew he wasn’t living back with his family, so that would have to be her first move, she had to visit the tunnels and break the news that Vincent was still very much alive.

Cautiously approaching the park Vincent sniffed the air, a lot was happening in there tonight, he could see the lights from cigarettes as he had on previous nights but the smell from them was stronger as were the lights denser and Vincent could tell that the park was swarming with human activity. He could only assume that some astral occurrence was about to happen and they were all stargazers and astrologers.

Well whatever he wasn’t about to linger and look for whatever it was they waited for, but rather to enter the tunnels via the park entrance and to get there as quickly as possible.

With all that had happened and his hunger merely satisfied by some burgers he had found in a dumpster on his way back from the docks, Vincent entered the storm drain without his usual caution, he was tired and weary and just wanted to curl up somewhere and sleep. He’d had one too many shocks this night and that the fellow that had seen him was obviously some kind of gangster his life was now in danger. He would never be able to go to the docklands again, and fish as part of his diet would have to be a thing of the past.

So when Vincent stepped through into the storm drain moments after sniffing around outside not as thoroughly as he ought to have done, he was met with a blaze of torchlight as he stepped within, and temporarily blinded he froze as he heard people shouting excitedly and disorientated was unable to get away as someone placed a heavy object upon his arm.

With the only way open to her via the threshold of her old apartment building, Catherine made her way into Fifth Avenue her heart in her mouth knowing the task wasn’t as clear cut as it might once have been. Sure she had lived in that particular apartment building for several years but she had long ago sold the apartment and she knew on occasions when she had returned to retrieve mail that the new security guard did not know her and she had faced a hundred and one questions before any of her post had been released to her, now post was one thing but actually getting inside was now quite another. Visitors were required to sign in and out and the appropriate apartment buzzed from the lobby to ensure that the owner was in and would give permission for the caller to come on up before anyone was allowed to leave the lobby and head for the elevator.
Thus drawing her car into its old parking space, luckily empty, Catherine made her way round to the front doors, her mind racing for a plausible reason as to why she should not only wish to call on no body, but she needed to get into the basement as well. And what then? Supposing the tunnel dwellers had bricked up her old way down? It was possible. She had not called there in almost eighteen months, anything may have happened in that time, and Catherine cursed her decision for staying away, knowing deep inside that she could do little else. Her heart had broken every time she had gone there and had not seen Vincent.
Cautiously approaching the front doors of the apartment block, Catherine peered within and noted it was the new guard again. Her heart raced and she felt sick. She couldn’t use the park entrance to go down, and she did not want to put any helpers with basement entrances at risk on the mere chance that the police were having her followed. Of course her long time in any one store could be explained as visiting with the store keeper, but Catherine did not want to pose any problems for the helpers, or place suspicion upon them where she was concerned.
Therefore the threshold, if she could actually get to it, was her best option for no way was she going to the docks at this time of night to get in from there, and it would be busy during the day.

She had reached the door with her hand on the glass panel pulling it outwards before she had even the slightest idea of what she was going to say, and though she felt the guard would see through the façade, she came over relatively calm and believable once she got started. “Hi, brr, cold out there, bet you’re glad you’re inside on a night like this aren’t you?” The guard peered at her curiously, “You’re Miss Chandler aren’t you? Heard you were wanted by the police.” Catherine balked she had forgotten about that. Oh how could she! “That’s right, but I’ve helped them and now I’m here to collect some things from the basement.” She told him quickly.

“Is that right? What sort of things?” It was clear he disbelieved her.

Pursing her lips Catherine told him, “Sorry can’t answer that. Its to do with the case I’m working on, but just know that I stored the files there in a safe place where no one can access them, so if you’ll just let me by…” She made to brush past him when he caught her arm, “Not so fast. Just let me call my colleague to take over and I’ll accompany you down there.”

Irritated Catherine told him, “Then you will have to wait outside of the basement, I can’t have you seeing where I hide the files, I won’t be taking them with me, just reading a few facts and leaving them behind.” He looked at her shrewdly, his mind racing ahead, trying to think what was in the basement that she might possibly interfere with while she was there. “Just one moment.” He told her then walking toward the telephone turned to tell her sternly, “Stay put, I just need to call the cops and verify your story.”

“Just don’t tell them about the file, okay?” Catherine asked him politely. He nodded, knowing he wasn’t going to do anyway, also knowing that as soon as she was gone and the first chance he had he would be searching for the files himself, they could be worth a fortune in the right hands and he knew a few men that would pay for something important like that.

He dialled 911, and getting through to the correct extension Catherine heard the one way conversation. “Hello, I’m calling from Catherine Chandler’s old apartment block in Fifth Avenue, she is here with me, and I want to verify her story. She tells me that she has been released from police custody, is that correct?”

There was a few minutes delay while someone obviously made enquiries and then she heard the guard saying, “Right. Oh she has, that’s okay then, sorry to trouble you.” And then he hung up and turned to face her, “Seems you’re telling the truth.”

“Of course I am, I’m an attorney.” He nodded and jangled the keys at his belt, making a final decision and with a radio attached to his lapel spoke into it, asking for his colleague who was patrolling the upper floors to take over while he escorted someone to the basement. His request was soon answered with the words, “I’m at the basement already, send whomsoever it is down, and I’ll help them search for whatever it is they’re looking for.” The first guard nodded, “Will do.” He told the second and directing his gaze to Catherine told her, “My colleague will help you out, you know the way.” And with that he dismissed her turning his back on her as he began to look at the monitor on his desk once again that showed images of the parking lot beneath the building and various floors within and on her way to the basement Catherine wondered about that, it was possible that there would be a camera down in the basement now, and her task was becoming increasingly harder by the second.

“Hold still!”

Vincent did anything but, he fought hard against his assailants growling and scratching, hearing the wondrous sound of material and flesh rip, felt the warmth of blood on his fingertips, until finally someone screamed his name, “God dammit Vincent, hold still!”

He froze, recognising his own name, though it had been too long since anyone had used it, and he whispered hoarsely, “You know me?”

“Sure.” Drawled the voice from the dark, torches extinguished in the rumpus of holding him still, Vincent could only make out shapes and sizes in the darkened drain with his better than most eyesight.

“Who are you?” Vincent asked cautiously, as something told him not to trust the owner of the voice, especially as others nearby were giggling nastily.

“We grew up together, don’t you recognise the voice?” Vincent felt that he did, it was a voice from a distant past made all the more lengthy by the things he had undergone in between. When Vincent said nothing the voice enlightened him, “Its Mitch, you know, Mitch Denton.” The name meant nothing and everything to Vincent in one go, friend, ridiculer, enemy, yes he remembered him then instantly wished he had not because with the memory came a hundred and one other memories crowding in on him, flashes of faces, some that made him groan with dread, others that made him groan with the pain of unhappiness. Vincent was remembering, and the things that he was being reminded of overjoyed and frightened him simultaneously.

“What do you want with me?” He asked somewhat hoarsely, for the one thing he did know about Mitch was that the fellow never did anything without there being something in it for him.

“Thought we might go for a little walk together, unless you help me out of a problem I have right now.”

“And that would be?” Vincent spoke with sarcasm.

“Aw come now, Vincent. You have to be friendlier than that. Up above in the park the army await you, I am inclined to disappoint them this night, but that largely depends on you.”

Vincent’s heart raced, the army! So that was why the park was full of activity and he had thought they were stargazers!

“Why are they waiting for me?” He asked perturbed, he had done nothing, except rescue a man from a blazing tomb but then how had they known it had been him. Had word travelled so fast?

Mitch laughed hysterically, “You really don’t know do you? You are dumber than you look fuzz ball.” Other laughter came from around them, snickers of malice and amusement laced strangely with an edge of fear and through that Vincent sensed his upper hand.

“I’ve been ill.” Vincent told Mitch now, “I remember you, yes, and a few things, but much is lost to me. What do you mean they are waiting for me?”

Exasperated, Mitch sighed, he knew when Vincent was telling the truth as too many years of being with him had done that. Vincent rarely lied, and ill or not, his conscience would forbid him from starting now. Still Mitch needed Vincent’s help, the outlet he could provide to keep him out of jail and ultimately well away from death row.

“They believe you to be someone you’re not. Don’t ask me how I know this, but believe me what they seek isn’t you, but one look at you and they would shoot first and ask questions later. Now see here Vincent, I could take you up top and let them think my crimes were down to you, but stupid as I am, I would kinda miss knowing you were here on this earth, and so I want to cut you a deal. This is what I want you to do. Call that old friend of yours, she can help me financially, I know she has enough dosh to see me out of my predicament, get me a one way ticket to Mexico, or maybe London, yeah, that would do, London, and then I’ll let you go.”

“You aim to hold me?” Vincent sneered derisively.

“You have no choice fuzz ball. We either go down or up. They’ll shoot you up there for sure and you’ll never see the delectable Mrs Maxwell ever again.”

“Mrs Maxwell?” Now Vincent was confused.

“Yeah sure, you know that old girlfriend of yours.” Gasps were heard among his so called friends at that piece of news.

“Girlfriend?” Sounding bewildered, Vincent reiterated.

“Cathy Chandler, you know the one, Lord Fuzz how many women have you had?”

“Cathy Chandler?” Bells sounded in Vincent’s head. Laughing grey green eyes filled his mind, the long ago scent of honey blonde hair filled his nostrils, and a memory pure swift and delightful forced its way into Vincent’s mind and he wondered how he had ever forgotten Catherine Chandler and all they had meant to one another. Yet…”You said Maxwell?” Vincent’s heart plummeted.

“Sure, she’s married now. Married that other attorney, what’s his name, James? John?”

“Joe.” Vincent’s tone was flat, expressionless, broken hearted. Catherine had married Joe. And with that realisation and all he had remembered over the last few moments, Vincent made a few steps forward intent on going back up to the park.

“Whoa, where do you think you’re off to, Fuzz?” Mitch caught his arm again and warily figures loomed to stand in Vincent’s path.

“There’s nothing I can do for you.” Vincent told him shrugging loose only to be held fast again and even the feel of something hard and cold against his right temple did not stop him moving forward. “Shoot me if you must, but I’m going above.”

“Then there is no choice, you die here, or die there, come on Vincent, think about this, what do you want to die for?” Mitch pleaded and panicked, without Vincent there was no way he’d get Mrs Maxwell to help him out and he had banked on her money, all his funds had been frozen and he was so wanted by the scum of the city that he would be dead in a couple of days if he didn’t move fast. Even the men with him he only half trusted.

“Life has nothing to offer me.” Vincent told Mitch gruffly, and Mitch’s mind raced. A few minutes back there, it had seemed Vincent might help him and then it had all gone. Poof… just like that and it was ever since he had mentioned that Cathy Chandler had married Joe Maxwell. Obviously Vincent had not known that, and heartbroken had decided that he might as well be dead. “Take one step further and not only will I shoot you in the head, Vincent but I’ll see that I kill Mrs Maxwell also before I’m done.” On the spot, Vincent froze and triumphant Mitch exulted and deep down he congratulated himself for his fast thinking, and as Vincent turned back toward him he gloated when Vincent whispered hoarsely, “Don’t, please not that. Kill me if you have to, only don’t hurt Catherine.”

“Dork, I won’t hurt either of you, if you just play the game my way, now you coming with me or what? We don’t need to go near the hub, I have my own quarters you know where Paracelsus lived.”

Fresh memories assuaged Vincent’s mind, hateful memories and he wanted to run, hide, throw himself at the nearest wall, Mitch felt the tremendous surge of power ripple through Vincent and he held on tight as he spoke to his so called friends, “You may go now, I’ll meet you here this time tomorrow night, okay?”

One by one, and wordlessly the shadowy figures of his friends merged out into the darkness above, and Mitch waited until he was certain they were well away before he reached for the mechanism to open up the way down into the tunnels.

When one of his so called friends looked back inside a few moments later with a swirl of flashlight, he found the storm drain empty, and he had no way of knowing where Mitch Denton and his furry friend had gone. As usual when Mitch went in there, he disappeared into thin air, and no amount of searching would reveal to them where he went or how he got out without being seen. It was a mystery to them, but since they did not care much about Mitch’s comings and goings so long as they remained on his payroll, they did not try to pursue the matter any further.

Awaiting her arrival, the second guard opened the door of the basement for Catherine as he viewed her face through the glass panel of the fire door. “Hello,” he greeted her, and Catherine was surprised to find it was the old guard, the one that had worked there when she had lived in the apartment. “Miss Chandler!” He greeted her warmly when he recognised her, “What a surprise. How are you, my dear?”

Equally and as pleasantly surprised Catherine filled him in on a little of her life since they had last spoken and then explained that some files she required were stored for safe keeping in the basement.

“Say no more.” The guard told her and to her amazement pulled a large packing crate from in front of the threshold door, and Catherine heart in her mouth was sure he knew where she really wanted to go and flustered and unable to speak almost fainted with relief when he stood upon the crate and with a wine coloured handkerchief covered a camera she had not noticed positioned near the ceiling. “That’ll stop Glen from seeing what you’re doing. Cos he will you know, misses nothing our Glen. Bet he’s switched the camera on and was watching you coming down into the basement. Now I suppose you’d like me to make myself scarce also?” the guard winked at her, “You go right ahead honey, whatever you need that’s down here will be safe with me, and safe from prying eyes as well.” Overwhelmed, Catherine hugged him he had no idea just how grateful she really was. What had once seemed a colossal problem had just ironed itself out so smoothly that it was a problem no more. “Thank you George, thank you so much.” She told him and he patted her arm and walked to the door, saying, “You’re welcome honey. I’ll stand down the corridor and see you’re not disturbed.”

Catherine thanked him again, and then just for good measure stood upon the crate he had pulled out and covered his handkerchief with another of her own and then placed some oil cloths over the panel on the door so that no one could see in, and without further ado, moved the remaining crates, opened the threshold door, slid inside, pulled back the crates and moved silently down the steps into the blue white light that she suddenly realised she had missed almost as much as she had missed Vincent.

A half hour later, when the guards changed working locations, George checked his watch and going back to the basement knocked on the door and whispered through a crack in the jamb, “Miss Chandler, Glen takes over here in two minutes and I take the lobby, he won’t be quite so respectful of your need to be alone. Just thought I’d warn you.” He waited for a reply but when none came assumed she was engrossed in her work. She couldn’t have left or he would have seen her, and he had not seen the lights on the elevator indicating that she had gone above to one of the other floors. She may have gone down to the parking lot of course, with its one way door to the outside, but he would have noted that movement also. He checked his watch again Glen would be waiting for him. He could leave the floors, but no one could leave the lobby, so he started forward, hoping with any luck that Miss Chandler would be finished with whatever it was she was on with before Glen came to take over from his vacated position.

Annoyed Glen was sharp when George arrived back, “What did you cover the camera for!” He snapped, “And why didn’t you answer my calls?” George had deliberately not answered Glen’s radio calls, knowing he would only receive an earful of obscenities about covering the basement camera. “Miss Chandler needed privacy.”

“Its Maxwell now!”

“No different, Maxwell or Chandler she’s the same attorney, maybe a bit more efficient than before, but deserving nonetheless of privacy, besides she’s no trouble, quit stressing yourself, will you?” Glen huffed and snatching the required paperwork he would need to take on his rounds with him, he marched straight toward the stairs that would take him to the basement. Thus for a few precious moments, the elevators were unmanned, and it could not be called into question which way Mrs Maxwell had gone, when Glen moments later, found the basement to be empty.

Alas, she had forgotten a few things, other than the crate George had pulled out, another was slightly out of position and Glen decided that here is where he should start his search for the files. It did not cross his mind that Mrs Maxwell might stow anything away into the wall behind where the crates had been positioned because simply there was nowhere to do such a thing, but rather perhaps in the cavities above and beneath the ceiling and on shelves where boxes were packed and it might take some time, but whatsoever had been important for Mrs Maxwell to hide there, he deemed worth knowing about and if he was to search all night he’d find those files, and then someone somewhere even if it be Mrs Maxwell herself, would pay dearly for their safe return.

Not once did he think about Mrs Maxwell, only glad that she had gone and left enough evidence for him to begin his search, so while he rummaged through hundreds of little boxes well into the night, Catherine found much to her delight that the threshold way down to the tunnels was still accessible, and with flashlight in her hand she made her way toward the hub her heart thumping with excitement and apprehension both at once.

“Catherine?” A face peered down the tunnel as the flashlight the bearer carried was extinguished when the lamps came into view.

“Mary?” Came the cautious reply.

“Catherine!” Joyous was the voice, “It is you, oh come, come!”
Catherine could now see the outstretched arms of the older woman as Mary rushed forward to embrace her in a firm and heartfelt welcome. “Oh Catherine, we have missed you so!” Mary kissed the younger woman’s cheek, “Wait I must announce your arrival everyone will want to know,” and before Catherine could say anything, Mary was tapping her wondrous message on the pipes bringing people running from every corner joyous of face and arms outstretched in welcome.

From behind the circle of friends came a gruff and elderly male voice, “Let me through, please, let me through” and then Catherine set eyes on one of the dearest faces she hadn’t seen in too long. “Father!” She cried and almost knocked him off his feet as she threw herself at him, “Oh its so good to see you.”

“And you, my dear, and you. Come, let’s go to my chamber its draughty here.” He took her arm and led her to where it was warm and cosy and so many memories assailed her as she stepped within that it was almost impossible to enter. Still Father patted her arm and told her, “I know, its painful, but it gets easier, though I wonder each time if I will ever step into my chamber and not expect to see him sitting just there.” He indicated with his cane to the chair where Vincent used to sit opposite his father by the desk.

“I miss him so, Father.” Catherine felt the tears prick her eyes, and Father nodded wordlessly though all manner of accusations leapt to mind, not least of all the fact that even so she had married someone else.

“You know don’t you?” Catherine turned before they had quite made it into the chamber, “You’ve heard about me and Joe?” His eyes on hers Father nodded, “I was not best pleased with the news my dear, and it is only recently that my friends and family here have considered me old enough to know. Forgive my mood, having not had long to get used to the idea, it is still very new to me, and I cannot understand why you married him. Good lord Cathy, you loved Vincent so much!”

“I still do, and that’s why I’m here. Father?” Catherine took a deep breath, “Do you know that Vincent is alive?”

Stumbling Father’s face whitened and Mary who had followed them in rushed to his side, her accusing eyes on Catherine’s scolding her for giving the elderly man such a shock. Still they had to know, and Catherine went on, “Its true, Joe’s seen him.”

“Joe?” Father mocked, “The same Joe that has never set eyes on Vincent before? That Joe?” The disbelief in his tone was more than apparent.

“Yes that Joe, and since he has never set eyes on Vincent before, that’s why I believe him. He described him Father, it was Vincent for certain.”

There were a few moments of silence as Father fought for words and then he asked gruffly, “Where? When did he see him?”

“A few nights ago. Up in the park. He’s being taken for a werewolf. Father we have to find him, help him or they will shoot him!”

“They?” Father’s heart raced, to be told his son was alive and then to be told he might soon be dead was almost too much, he had to sit down. Fumbling for his cane and Mary’s support he sat down in the chair that had once been filled by his overlarge son, and seemed out of place within its depths.

“The army, they are up in the park searching for him expecting him to come out at any moment when the moon is full as it is all this week.”

“But a werewolf? Cathy that’s insane!”

“Seems others have seen him staring up at the moon and there have been bodies found ripped to shreds.” Father could not deny that it sounded like Vincent.

“We have to find him before they do.” He sounded very old all of the sudden. He felt it too. “Mary can you make the necessary arrangements?” He asked her wearily.
“Of course Father, now you just sit there and rest, Catherine make sure he stays put.”

Catherine nodded, and her eyes darted around the chamber. Apart from a few bits of new furniture it was pretty much the same as she had last seen it and the only thing missing was Vincent.

“I’m sorry to startle you with this. I didn’t think beyond letting you know, I should have been more tactful, I’m sorry.” She dropped to her knees and rested her cheek against one of Father’s whose gloved hand dropped to her head. “There’s not many ways you could have announced it my dear, whatever you said would have come as a shock. We searched you know we did…” his voice trailed away and his eyes became misty, “we thought he was dead.” He mumbled brokenly at last. “Oh Catherine!” He cried suddenly, “He’s alive isn’t he? He’s actually alive!”

Catherine hoped at that moment that was so, she doubted Father’s heart could withstand another shock so she refrained from saying ‘hope so’ which was at the tip of her tongue and instead replied, ‘Yes Father, he is.’ Because deep down she was sure that was so anyway. Joe had never seen Vincent yet had described him the problem was why hadn’t Vincent returned home and why was he killing people up in the park? Gutted left in shreds, the papers had said, killed with claws and fangs and there was no doubt about it. Only a beast could rent that much damage to human flesh, either that or a crazed man with a vendetta and nothing quite like it had been seen in the city for several years, and back then it had been assumed to be of animal origin and was so again now.

Not many moments after Mary’s exit from the chamber voices could be heard outside and Catherine got to her feet as first Pascal, then other faces she recognised filed in.

“Its true then?” Pascal asked coming down the steps toward Father, “It is Vincent?” Catherine looked at each of the two men in turn her eyes curious and questioning. Father enlightened her, “Pascal had decided Vincent might be alive some days ago. I’m afraid I did not accept the possibility.”

Catherine nodded, ‘ah’ now she understood.

“We started making enquiries and a plan to place sentries in the park once the army cleared out. They were searching for a werewolf that would not be seen once the moon was no longer full, we knew that if it were Vincent chances are once they were gone he would be back up there walking the park at night. We were determined to find him, Cathy. You don’t know how good it is to know for a certainty that he can be found.” Pascal told her truthfully. “When did you see him?”

“I didn’t. Joe did. But before you ask, we’ve established the possibility of that, or rather the truth of that.” Catherine hurried on as doubts clouded Pascal’s eyes, “Believe me Pascal, Joe did see Vincent. It was him and that proves not only is he alive but he frequents the park still. The question is why doesn’t he contact any one of us, and who, if anyone is looking out for him?”

“Maybe no one is.” A voice from behind Pascal had Catherine looking for its owner with joy of heart, “Mouse!” She enveloped him in a huge embrace and Mouse chuckled, “Missed you too Vincent’s Catherine.”

“What do you mean Mouse, maybe no one is? What do you know that we don’t?” Pascal asked the boy accusingly. Mouse shrugged. “Mouse alone. Might be Vincent is too.”

“He’s got a point, Pascal.” Father included himself in the discussion, “Mouse lived above alone for years and Vincent could do that. I wouldn’t like to think of him lost and alone and doing so, but its probable that’s what he’s doing. What bothers me most is why he had never tried to contact Catherine, even if he felt unable to come home. Unless of course, he heard about your marriage to Joe.” The accusation was there again, apparent in Father’s tone, but Catherine would apologise no longer for what had happened or why. “It was necessary at the time, its not now. It was a mistake on my part and for what its worth Joe and I are getting divorced now.”

“Oh.” Was all Father said but it was an ‘oh’ with a wealth of questions inside. Catherine however chose not to enlighten him further. There were more important issues at stake.

“So what are we to do, stake out the park, search till we drop? Surely we can start before the army leave, imagine if they find him before we do?” She searched their eyes surprised to find them slightly wary of her suggestion. Suddenly she laughed, “Oh dear me, you don’t believe in that werewolf rubbish do you? You do don’t you?” she asked as people glanced nervously around at his companion, “Oh come on, its Vincent you know it is. What more can it be?”

“It’ll be alright, there’s time enough till the passage of the full moon is over.” Pascal stated firmly, “And besides the park is off limits we’d be escorted out, we’d never get a chance to look for him till then.”

“No way, Joe was up there. In his car even, he wasn’t sent out and there were youths up there too, Joe saw them. People manage when desperate measures are at stake Pascal and believe me this is one such time.” Catherine sounded furious with them. She was, how could they be frightened…unless…”You aren’t frightened of Vincent are you?” Again they looked at one another uncomfortably and Catherine gasped, “You are! You’re frightened that he will hurt you!”

“We’re frightened he will not know us.” Pascal stated firmly.

“Then how can you expect to help him?” Catherine glanced around curiously and Father too, since he had not been made aware of their plans even though he had asked to be.
“Exactly.” Father echoed, “How can you help him if you are afraid to approach him? I cannot believe I am hearing this right.”

“You saw him, Father. You know how he was!” No one had noticed that Jamie had entered with Mouse until her voice announced this was so.

“I know how he was Jamie, so does Catherine, yet is she frightened? Well is she?”” All eyes turned to Catherine. Her face determined, angry, perturbed with them and most of all by the courage standing out from her eyes and her mannerism they could tell she was not afraid. “That was the plan.” Mouse mumbled as people elbowed his silence.

“What plan?” Father asked sharply looking directly at Mouse. Murmurs flitted around the group assembled in the chamber. “Well, I’m waiting?” Father looked from one guilty person to the next as finally Pascal stated, “We thought since Catherine had tamed the beast before she might be willing to try again.”

“You were coming to ask me to do that?” Catherine cried, “What is this feed Catherine to the lions week?”

“No, it wouldn’t have been like that, Cathy. If its Vincent up there, he would have known you, never of harmed you!” Pascal argued.

“That’s a jolly big ‘if’ there buster!” Catherine cried indignantly. “Had Joe not have seen him you were offering me up as sacrifice to what? A whim?” Had it not been Vincent it could have been any crazed animal ready to rip me to shreds. What were you thinking of?”

“But it is Vincent, Cathy. We know that now, and okay so it might have been a dumb plan before but its good one now. In all probability you would be the only one to tame the beast again. He’ll not hurt you Cathy, he didn’t before and he won’t now, not ever.” Jamie argued.

Father was inclined to agree, “She has a point Catherine. Vincent would never hurt you not even while under the greatest of pressure, he just couldn’t.”

No, thought Catherine, he couldn’t. There was one thing none of them knew, how that day she had gone into that dark chamber and tamed the beast, how she and Vincent had made love. How despite that most wondrous of occasions, he should go away to die and she had turned to Joe in her hour of desolation, and things had happened between them that ought not to have happened. Still she had been sure that it had been Joe’s baby she had been expecting, not Vincent’s, since the likelihood of that was impossible.

“Maybe you’re right.” Catherine told them at length, and saw it was the answer they had hoped for as sighs of relief pulsed through the crowd. Catherine sighed too, “Just where do you think I should start?”

“At the entrance into the park, two nights from now. Don’t worry you won’t be alone, we’re be in the storm drain behind you.” Pascal told her excitedly. However to his dismay Catherine shook her head. “Oh but it’s a great place, and we’ll be with you I promise.” He hoped to pacify her fears, not realising she had none. Still Catherine shook her head and then surprised them all by saying. “Two days isn’t soon enough. I’ll go up there tonight.” The decidedly white pallor that filled their cheeks gave her their answer, they weren’t so happy to accompany her so soon.

“Tonight?” Pascal croaked nervously.

“Yes, tonight. Now, even. You coming, or do I have to do this alone?”

There was silence, and then when she had almost decided she would be going alone, a voice she had not expected answered her, “Mouse will come.” And she turned to find the boy tucking his hand in hers, “I’m not afraid. Vincent my friend…besides…” and he actually winked at her, and it was at that moment Catherine’s heart raced as she realised what Mouse was saying…he knew where he was…Mouse actually knew where Vincent was!

“Move! Its that way.” Mitch nudged Vincent in the back, and together they moved through the inky blackness downward where the dank smell of rotten water assailed their senses. “You really do live where Paracelsus lived, don’t you?” Vincent asked suddenly remembering the depths of below, the eerie, draughty tunnels and…he stopped…another place…deep in the bowels of the earth, near here, to the left. He turned as they reached the entrance to the way and Mitch nudged him in the back, “Wrong way go straight down. It’s not that way. There’s nothing that way but a dead end. A sandy little chamber that’s of use to any one.”

“I know.” Vincent whispered hoarsely as a million memories rushed to meet him. Suddenly he groaned mightily and astounded Mitch when he dropped to his knees seemingly much in pain and agony. “Vincent? What is it? Vincent?”

Vincent could not speak coherently. He mumbled but no words were decipherable. Mitch grew worried. He could not move Vincent without help, and it wasn’t as if Vincent was trying to outwit him, the big fellow seemed genuinely distressed about something.

“Do you need something Vincent? Water? Can I fetch you some water?” Mitch asked frantically.

At the thought of the dank and smelly water Vincent could have vomited instead he replied, “No, must go this way.” And Mitch watched as Vincent held up a shaky hand and pointed to the tunnel terminating in a dead end. “There’s nothing there, Vincent believe me I’ve been there.”

“So have I.” Vincent told him raggedly.

“Then you’ll know it’s a dead end and we still have a long way to go. Come on we’re wasting time.” He tugged at Vincent’s arm but Vincent shrugged him free crying, “No must go! Must go there now!” And he surprised Mitch when he climbed to his feet and made to walk into the narrow tunnel with the jagged rock walls.

Mitch followed, he had no option and he might have waited where he was, but he had no way of knowing how long Vincent would be, or if there was perhaps a way out down there that only Vincent knew about. So he followed and moaned about the wasted time of their journey, unnecessarily spent when they had so little of it to spare.

Therefore as Catherine made her way up into the park with Mouse, Vincent made his way down to the sandy cave where the memories of making love to her were so strong and so unbelievable that he had to see it to remind himself that it had not happened, that it had been no more than a figment of his wild imagination or some ghastly hellish dream set to torment him. For it had been that, that very thing, the need to make love to Catherine and the belief that it could never be so, that had sent him hurtling to the small sandy cave to die, the only outlet possible for the two of them since nothing else was permissible. Better to die and free Catherine from a life of wanting, than to look in her eyes one more time and recognise the need he’d held as his own for too long a time.

Yet something had gone wrong, something had happened, Catherine had followed him…and…and…

Vincent had to see the cave…had to know for sure…had to know it was another of his wild imaginings…for anything else would be too cruel…for in the light of all they may have shared…Catherine had married another.

“So where do you think Vincent is, Mouse?” Catherine asked as they stepped through the door leading into the storm drain sure now that no one had followed them up.

“Not sure. Only maybe.” Mouse told her.

“Maybe is good enough for me Mouse, at least it’s a start. What makes you think he may be there?”

“Things.” Mouse enlightened her. Catherine decided not to question Mouse further. If Mouse had decided whatsoever he had seen might prove Vincent had left them behind it was good enough for her. Mouse and Vincent had been close so it was more than probable Mouse knew what he was talking about.

“Is he well?” She asked instead.

Mouse shook his head, “Don’t know, not seen him. Come.” Catherine followed as Mouse darted like his namesake to the nearest shrub and together they stood there breathless until all of a sudden Mouse whispered, ‘Come’ again and darted forward once more.

Catherine followed him like this all the way to the carousel, where they climbed the railings and entered onto the circle of horses through a hole in the wall that Mouse had used before. “Come, come.” He told her quickly his eyes darting all around. Catherine tucked herself through the gap carefully unwilling to snag any of her clothing on the way in, and finally stood inside with Mouse who was pointing to something on the ground. Catherine couldn’t make out the shape so peered closer walking gingerly toward it when Mouse fell to his knees and started moving aside some tiles in the floor that had been covered by oily rags. “Here see?” Mouse reached inside the cavity beneath the tiles he had pulled loose and withdrew a small brown leather pouch that by the light of the moon streaming through the skylight above, Catherine recognised immediately, “It’s the pouch I gave to Vincent.” She reached for and fondled the material telling instantly her rose lay within. “Vincent would never take this off!” She cried, “Never! So he’s been here?” She questioned the boy. Mouse nodded, “He doesn’t always leave it here. Sometimes gone, sometimes here. Depends.”

“On what? Mouse do you know?”

Mouse shook his head, “Mouse don’t know. But…”

“But what Mouse?” Catherine wanted to shake the words out of him. Mouse grinned, “Cos its here now?” Eagerly, Catherine nodded. “He’ll be back.” Mouse told her with a bright smile. “Vincent will be back.”

“For the rose?” Hope seared through Catherine’s heart. Bright eyed Mouse nodded vigorously.

“When?” Breathlessly she almost dared not ask.

“Tonight.” Mouse told her, “He’ll come tonight.” He touched the pouch in her hands, willing her to understand as he told her, “Always gone on Monday’s. Back on Tuesdays, gone tomorrow.”

Catherine didn’t understand, though it was becoming clear. Wherever Vincent went each day of the week was different, and it became apparent that some days he felt it unsafe to wear the rose in its pouch so he hid it in the floor of the carousel and covered the broken tiles with oily rags used for maintenance on the horses until he could come back and start wearing it again. Tears pricked at the back of Catherine’s eyes. So he remembered her. Why then had he not sought her out? Her heart broke afresh. Why oh why had she married Joe? Why had she not held on and waited longer? Why had she given up so easily? There were no answers to the many questions, she had done what she’d done and it was too late to dwell on that or change the past, but she could change the future…she would await Vincent’s return and beg his forgiveness, explain about Joe the baby and the divorce…and ask that Vincent take her back…she needed him…oh how she needed him…and because if he was guilty of the assaults in the park then she was partly to blame, for he had done it because of her by his fury and his frustration when she had broken his heart…by marrying another. She had to make him understand that had all been a mistake and that it was he that she loved. Him, always him…and she would love him forever.

Getting his own way Vincent led Mitch to the sandy cave he had gone to before when he had been ill. He stood in the entrance to the cave first looking inward and seeing little until behind him Mitch came with a flashlight and lent shadows to the walls, Vincent’s shadow rugged and menacing and in a flash everything came back to Vincent. He staggered into the cave gasping and falling to his knees where Mitch rushed to his side believing his old friend and long time enemy to be ill. “Vincent what is it?” The panic was easy to detect in Mitch’s tone. He reached for and felt the pulse at Vincent’s wrists noting with grim anxiety that it was racing beyond what should be normal for one such as Vincent.

“I have some water.” Mitch reached around to a shoulder pack and lifting the lid extracted a bottle of water from inside and unscrewing the top he placed the plastic rim to Vincent’s lips, “Here drink this, it might help calm you.” To his dismay however Vincent threw the bottle away from his mouth and Mitch dashed after it, eager to salvage what was left in the bottle as much spilled onto the sandy floor of the cave. “I was only trying to help.” Mitch admonished angrily, immediately contrite when Vincent apologised.

“Forget it Vincent.” Mitch told him, “I take it this place holds its own demons for you huh?” Vincent said nothing, but his wild eyes glancing first this way and then that spoke volumes.

“Can I help?” Mitch ventured after a few minutes of complete silence, only broken by Vincent’s harsh breathing.

“No one can help.” Vincent husked. His voice sounded strained and far off as if dredged up from the very bottom of the abyss itself.

“Something happened here didn’t it?” Mitch looked around seeing only the sandy cave as the flashlight swung a huge arc around its walls. Vincent nodded, his eyes wild still yet softening slightly as he remembered whatever it had been that had taken place there.

“Want to tell me about it?” Mitch ventured hopefully.

“No.” Vincent replied slumping against a wall and sliding to the floor. He sat there hands on either side of him gently picking up the sand and letting it glide through his fingers. Mitch watched him from the other side of the cave and copied his example, sliding down his own wall and sitting opposite saying nothing. He could tell Vincent needed to think and he let him be.

That motion of the sand gliding through his fingers, the silky softness of it stimulated a memory from far away, and soon Vincent was able to remember not sand but rather the touch of long silky hair gliding through his hands. He moaned softly, aware that Mitch was startled by the sound but courageous enough to remain sitting where he was. There would be many that wouldn’t, there would be another that would.

Vincent began to remember fully now, and his heart ached. He’d gone down to the cave to die. The impossible dream had become too much for him, what he and Catherine shared needed consummation and he was unwilling to fulfil that need. So he had gone to the cave believing that by his death he’d set her free to find someone worthy of her love. But he hadn’t bargained on Catherine’s courage. She had followed him to the cave and gone to him and though he had at first tried to frighten her with his other self and its power she had thrown her arms around him and held him tight, and in that moment he had been so overwhelmed that his heart had not been able to take it and had given out rendering him breathless and unable to focus or stand upright. And the last he remembered for several seconds was the fact of the sandy floor coming up to meet him as he had fallen as dead at Catherine’s feet.

What followed was a rapture beyond words. Her hands upon him, warm and searching, Catherine’s lips touching his, inflamed by fire moist and soft and yearning straining to reach him. He could no more deny her then than he could drag the moon down from the sky. He was lost, lost to the power of her love and their dream and in that split second he was hers forever.

Vincent remembered every touch, every kiss with a burning hunger and knowledge that nothing would ever be the same between them again. She had given herself to him gladly willingly, and he had taken and quenched his burning need for her in her. It was only afterward, after when his family had returned him to his chamber that he’d had regrets, and on the pretence that he could remember nothing he sought the coward’s way out, running away once again and letting Catherine believe he’d forgotten everything that had taken place between them. Forgotten or shut it out. Her pain had almost been his undoing, but what he had done to her was more than he could bear. He’d lusted after her and taken her and sullied her beauty with the ugliness of his, and never could he look upon Catherine again and not know that and never could he be what she wanted him to be. He was not of her world and she could never be of his. Vincent sighed heavily knowing now that was truer than he knew then, for in so short a time Catherine had turned to Joe Maxwell and they had married. Vincent knew he ought to rejoice for her, but he could not, and the bitter pill that he had wanted her to swallow by leaving him and finding someone else, Vincent now found that on his own tongue it was impossible to consume.

“Why have you brought me here?” He looked up at Mitch as if seeing him for the first time, really seeing him. Mitch looked up startled from his gaze of the sandy floor where he had been idly playing with the grains of sand, deep in his own thoughts.

“You came here yourself remember?”

“No, I don’t mean here, rather where we are, but why did you bring me down here?”

“It was the only thing I could think of at the time.” Vincent looked shrewdly in Mitch’s direction, asking, “And now?”

“Now I’m not so sure. You’re ill aren’t you? People believed you were dead, I believed you were dead, till I saw you earlier tonight at the dock. You know when you rescued Pete Carnell from the container.”

“You put him there?” Vincent asked stunned. Mitch nodded. “He should have died.”

“I thought I was helping an innocent person, I realise now that I should have left him there to burn.” Vincent told Mitch forcefully though it grieved him to say that. He hated to let another die even those he’d killed with his own hands.

“Well he’s free again now because of you and that means my life is at risk now more than before. He’s going to kill me Vincent.”

“Why what have you done?” Slowly Mitch told him. It seemed that the fellow Pete Carnell was into everything, extortion, narcotics, robbery, assault, blackmail, kidnapping the list was endless. In truth he was the scum of the earth. “He was beginning to control the city Vincent, but I had an idea. I knew you were dead, or so I’d been told, so it wouldn’t come back to you, whether I would have cared either way we’ll never know but I like to think that I would not have had such an idea had I thought you to be alive. There might be no love lost between us Vincent, but you always cared for my father and you and I were like brothers once.” Vincent said nothing, remembering the taunts and the jibes of this so called brother in his growing up years. “Anyway, as I say Pete Carnell rules up top Vincent, and I had an idea. You see Pete has a pet, a wolf. He keeps it at one of his houses usually penned securely, but sometimes he has been known to let it out in the grounds of his estate to hunt down and kill people he’d invited there supposedly for a celebration. Its an evil animal and a man killer Vincent, and Carnell can rely on it to do his bidding. Well I had an idea. Apart from those people killed at his estate of which he disposes of very carefully, his other victims are left to rot wherever they fall. He seldom uses a gun, more often he and those that work for him use knives and I started following them very carefully at a safe distance, watching their movements, knowing where they might possibly strike next. It was no good telling the authorities what I knew, they had to find out about Carnell for themselves and the best way to do that was to frame him although in reality he had organised the killings anyway. I knew I had to place suspicion in Carnell’s direction and then go to the police with my tale. So I obtained some wolf hair, from Carnell’s wolf no less. The animal leaves it on the railings when he rubs up against them around Carnell’s estate, easy enough to pick off and keep safe. I then made a weapon that for all intents and purposes resembled wolf jaws and teeth. Then I waited till Carnell or his thugs had murdered someone and when they were out of the vicinity I ran to the victim and slashed him or her, cos believe me Vincent Carnell isn’t bothered who he gets rid of, and then I lay a few strands of wolf fur upon the victim usually tucked inside their hands and then run off. My intention was for that to help the police become aware that whomsoever had killed the victim owned a wolf. Many people know about Carnell’s wolf, he doesn’t keep the beast a secret, and I thought it would be easy, a matter of simply adding two and two together. In no way did I imagine they’d think it was a werewolf, and maybe they wouldn’t have, if people had not of seen you!”

“I’ve been seen?” Vincent was astounded.

“Many times. Vincent you’ve let your guard slip, like you didn’t care, as if you wanted to be seen.” Vincent knew this, Mitch was right, he had wanted to be seen. He had wanted to be shot, loathed as he were to take his own life, knowing he’d tried that once but Catherine had brought him back from the dead.

“Maybe I did.” Vincent replied softly. Mitch was surprised. “I know it can’t be easy being you Vincent, but you know…” Mitch’s next words stunned Vincent, “I’ve always admired you, been impressed by you all my life Vincent. You know…” Mitch cocked his head to one side and smiled gently, “you’re truly something you know that? Beautiful doesn’t even come close.”

Vincent’s mouth gaped and Mitch laughed, “I mean it, Vincent. And obviously Catherine Chandler noticed that was true also. She’s so beautiful and yet she loved you.”

Vincent closed his mouth and swallowed with difficulty, “Loved being the appropriate word.” He told Mitch sadly. “She married Joe Maxwell.”

“Yes I know. But the way I hear it that was a mistake. They’re getting divorced now. Did you know that?” Vincent’s eyes were wide and incredulous, “No.” He whispered huskily, “I didn’t.”

“I don’t know the details, maybe she just couldn’t forget you. I heard that she and Maxwell got hitched when she found she was pregnant, but the kid died…” Vincent gasped, “Catherine’s child died?” He cried.

“Before birth you understand. A miscarriage. I think she and Maxwell married because of the child, then when it died they realised their mistake. Or she did, I think he loves her, but she doesn’t love him.” Sadly Vincent shook his head. Deep down he knew Catherine would never love another so long as she loved him still. What he had done to her, devilling her hurt him deeper still, now she could never let him go.

“She loves you doesn’t she?” Mitch asked, “And she thinks you’re dead, but she still loves you. See what I mean Vincent, I should be envious of you and in a way I am, to have the love of a beautiful woman in that way. That’s why I thought that if I had you, she’d pay any price to have you safely returned, but I‘m not so sure now that would work. You wouldn’t go to her would you?”

Vincent shook his head, “No. Catherine is better off continuing to believe I died. Knowing otherwise would only open up old wounds.”

“And yet, my idea to capture Carnell backfired not just for me and him but for you and Catherine too. He saw you Vincent and already he’s telling others of what he saw. Maybe others will think it’s a fabricated tale but not Catherine, if she hears what he says Catherine will believe that you are out there. And then she will have hope again.”

“Even worse.” Vincent sighed raggedly, “A few nights ago I rescued Joe Maxwell from a crazed dog. By now he would have told her what he saw and though it may have meant nothing to him, it will have meant everything to Catherine.”

Mitch seemed not to hear all of what Vincent said, “A crazed dog you say. Describe it will you?”

At once Vincent saw where Mitch was coming from, “It was a wolf.” Vincent told him, “I know that now. I guess I thought it back then but could not accept the possibility.”

“Carnell must be using Exanzibar to kill off his estate now.”

“But how does he control him? The wolf was loose.” Vincent asked incredulous.

“Remote control collar. He can track him and make the wolf behave with it. Do his bidding. That’s good news actually. If he’s using Exanzibar out of his estate, with the clues I’ve left on the other victims hopefully, the police will soon realise he was to blame for their deaths also. But pinning the deed on Carnell and not just having him fined and imprisoned for keeping a dangerous animal are two very different things.”

“You’re speaking to the wrong person.” Vincent told him, “You should be telling Catherine, or Joe Maxwell these things.”

“I’d never get close enough. Carnell would kill me the moment I went anywhere near either of them.”

“But if Carnell is using the wolf in the park, innocent people could die.” Vincent gasped, Catherine could die, or any of the tunnel children. A wolf running loose even if under a merit of control could pose untold dangers.

“I’ll make a deal with you.” Mitch told Vincent.

Vincent detected that he was not going to approve of whatever Mitch suggested but asked him what it was anyway, and Mitch went on, “there are times Vincent, when you can be so stubborn. I’ve seen that before. You tend to think too little of yourself and believe that others make a gross error in believing anything contrary to what you believe. Well let me tell you Vincent…you’re wrong. And because you’re wrong, this is what I suggest we do.” Vincent didn’t like the sound of that ‘we’ and continued to listen gravely.

“Return home Vincent, to the hub, to Catherine. Make her happy, be with her be whatever she needs you to be, forget the differences. Catherine obviously has, Father did, my father did, Devin did, I did and that goes for the rest of them in the tunnels, so many people love you Vincent, so many have grieved for you since believing you died. Life in the tunnels hardly exists since you have left them, no I take that back life in the tunnels only just exists. The joy and the happiness has gone, no one seems to want to do anything anymore. Everything is half heartedly done, like the life has been sucked out of all of them. I know, I’ve watched them and its not been nice to see Vincent. Catherine never goes there anymore either, whether because of their heartache or her own I don’t know, but what I do know Vincent, is your return will make them burst into song as surely as a desert flower bursts open with the first rains after decades of drought. And when you have returned home, Catherine will return to the tunnels, and there I can speak with her and she can help put Carnell behind bars and that in turn will help me, my life will no longer be at risk and I can return above and live the way I did before coming into contact with Carnell, and everything will be hunkey dorey again. So what do you say Vincent, will you do it?”

“And if I should refuse?” Vincent asked his mind already made up to the contrary, Mitch’s words had cut him deeply.

“Then too many people will remain unhappy for too long. If for no one else Vincent remember Father isn’t getting any younger.” Vincent groaned, understanding Mitch’s hint completely, “Will you return with me?”

“Now?” Mitch was already getting to his feet. Vincent nodded, “Yes now, before I change my mind.”

Together they left behind the sandy cave with all its bitter sweet memories, Vincent anxious about his future as every man would be, and Mitch anxious about his future also, hoping that their plan might work and soon he would be able to live life again without having to constantly look over his shoulder.

With Mouse, Catherine waited at the Carousel until with cramp in her back, arms and legs she noticed the first stirrings of an approaching dawn in the night sky and announced to her companion sadly, “He won’t come now, Mouse, its morning already.”

“Somethings wrong.” Mouse told her, “He always comes back. Must be something happened, maybe.” Catherine felt a cold shudder run through her that had nothing to do with the early morning mist creeping across the grass of the park and seeping into the cold shed concealing the Carousel.

“I’ll return to the hub with you if I may?” Catherine told Mouse, “Its nearer and I’m frozen.” Mouse nodded and took hold of Catherine’s arm. Together they exited the Carousel the way they had come and made their way back to the tunnels feeling desolate and sad with their hope of seeing Vincent’s return dashed completely.

Thus Catherine and Mouse entered the tunnels from one direction, reaching the hub on one side as Mitch and Vincent reached it from the other side, and each twosome weary of travel and heavy of heart found themselves face to face stunned and deciding each other were dreaming, rubbing eyes with disbelief before their hearts started beating faster and faster and they began running toward one another. Only Mitch hung back watching the scene unfold. Watching as Vincent enveloped Catherine into his arms, snaking an arm around Mouse’s shoulders as well holding the boy close.

“Vincent!” Catherine cried through a fog of choking tears and Mouse’s face was wet from tears that streamed down his cheeks, “Knew you’d come back, Vincent. Had to. Couldn’t stay away any longer.” Mouse told his big friend. Vincent held them both tightly unable to speak knowing only in that moment how much he had truly missed them both, equally not one above the other, they both meant the world to him.

It was still early morning, yet someone had been awake, someone had seen all, and the pipes were loud with communication, words tumbling over words in the haste to have them said, the main above them all bringing people falling from their beds, seeking footwear or running barefooted on hearing the four words that meant the most, “Vincent’s returned, he’s alive!”

Never had there been such a celebration. Everything was resolved. Carnell behind bars, on death row no less, Mitch free to do as he pleased, the tunnels a hive of activity peacefulness and happiness…and the best of all Vincent and Catherine back together again.

Arm in arm they wandered through the park a year to the day of Vincent’s return. The night was bright with a full round moon glistening down from the heavens and the couple turned their faces to it, drinking in its beauty remembering how it was to be apart, thankful to be beneath its glow together.

“I love you so much Catherine.” Vincent whispered. Catherine tore her gaze from the moon so many memories were there in its sight, she left them all behind as she looked into Vincent’s intense blue eyes. “I never stopped loving you my darling.” She told him simply. A lump caught in Vincent’s throat.

“You sacrificed so much to love me, and will continue to do so. My love, are you truly prepared for that?” Vincent asked softly, holding his breath in expectation of her answer. For they both knew something now, that neither one had known before.

“As long as I have you with me, my love, I am prepared for anything. And there are other children to love, others that need us my darling.”

Vincent was awed that his Catherine had guessed so easily the final hurdle in his heart. “Still…” he began but Catherine silenced his words with a finger to his lips telling him softly, “When Peter revealed that he’d taken samples from the child I had lost, when he told us that that child had been yours and not Joe’s it broke my heart Vincent. Not just for the knowledge but also for the fact that together it is probably impossible that we can ever have a child. Even so, I was grossly unhappy without you and being pregnant, believing that child to be Joe’s never made me truly happy Vincent, thus I know from that experience, that a child by any other man but you would not bring me happiness, it would only remind me of what I couldn’t have. And my love, if I cannot have your babies but I can have you, then there is no loss. Simply my love, without you life has no meaning, there is no happiness in new life if it is not yours however selfish that sounds. What I’m trying to say Vincent, is without you I am nothing, life is nothing. You are everything to me Vincent, with you I am complete. I am happy, so exquisitely happy. Having your love is all I could ever want.”

They gazed at one another, a long moment, his eyes firey blue adoring hers of stormy green and slowly their lips met in a soft sweet kiss that blazed into life and drew them together closer than a heartbeat, and as they drew apart they both sighed and with their hands clasped together they moved with one accord back to the tunnel world and ultimately to Vincent’s chamber where his big warm bed awaited them. They’d shared it a year now, waking every morning curled in one another’s arms, snug and safe from the world above, tucked close in body and in heart in the knowledge that nothing or no one would ever drive them apart again. Having to pinch themselves on a daily basis that they were to be married just as soon as Catherine’s divorce was finalised, that being the only blot on Catherine’s landscape. For she grieved for Joe and wished him well, he was a good man and she had treated him appallingly but for his own part having now met Vincent and seen the love between him and his ex wife, Joe was forced to admit that Catherine was never his, and he could only rejoice in the fact that for a few short months the dream of her being so had been for him a reality and even finding out that the child had not been his brought its own relief and for the child that was lost, as Joe grieved no more.

In fact Joe had moved on, he’d never forget Catherine he knew that, and much as Elliot Burch grieved the loss of one so beautiful in every which way and not by looks alone, both would eventually find happiness with someone else, Joe finding that someone sooner than Elliot.

The night was calm and bright and a full moon hung suspended on nothing, and Joe driving home late from the office passed the park and wished Catherine and Vincent well and slammed on his breakes as he almost hit a woman crossing the road in front of him. He stopped the car, switched off the engine and rushed around to where she stood glaring at him from the pavement, “Forgive me.” He cried, “Are you alright? My mind was elsewhere.”

“Another second and you’d be calling for an ambulance!” The woman retorted angrily. Joe was mesmerised by the fire in her eyes, her petite curvaceous figure, the figure hugging clothes that she wore, “Don’t I know you?” He heard himself ask then laughing a little wondering if he did then how could he have been so blind not to have noticed her before.

“Yes, Mr Maxwell, I work for you.” The woman smiled now recognising him the instance he laughed, “Guess I look different in jeans huh?” Slowly Joe placed her, she was in the typing pool, she usually wore a suit, her hair piled high on her head, she usually wore spectacles, he remembered her fumbling around the desk when she had mislaid them a moment. He was surprised she wore none now. As if knowing his thoughts the woman laughed, “Contacts.” she told him touching her eyes with very long fingers and well manicured nails.

“I hardly recognised you.” Joe told her with a chuckle, “They sure make you look different.”

“How different?” She chuckled too.

“Extremely different…beautiful…” His words hung suspended and she waited for him to say something else. He noticed her breathless anticipation but could think of nothing to add.

“Well…” she began at last, “Guess I’d better be getting along…” It was the last thing she wanted to do. She’d dreamed about this man for so long, had wished for so long, had hoped for ever that he might just notice her. But he’d been too wrapped up in personal problems, and she’d heard he was getting a divorce but still loved his wife. Besides her dreams were hopeless, no man wanted a ready made family even if the contacts might have had him noticing her…

“Maybe I can drive you somewhere?” He rushed in suddenly realising that she was moving away. He knew he’d see her tomorrow at the office, but a lonely evening stretched between, “Have you eaten? Maybe we could grab a bite to eat somewhere, go see a movie, what do you say?”

The woman smiled, her heart fluttered her hands felt clammy, she wanted nothing more than to say yes, but he had to understand…”I’d like that Mr Maxwell…” her words trailed away.

His heart sank, “But?” He queried sadly.

“I was on my way to collect my daughter.” There she’d said it usually she waited till after the third date at least. She waited for him to withdraw his offer as they all had, she waited in anxious expectation of him to say farewell.

“Your daughter?” Clearly Joe was surprised, it was there in his tone, but so was the fact that had his child lived, even though he knew now that child had not been his, the child would be about fifteen months old now, and he’d thought of that often, wishing on the cold silent nights for those little arms around his neck, warm and chubby and sloppy wet kisses on his cheeks. Of all his dreams that had to be the one he considered lost the most.

“How old is she?” Joe suddenly remembered the woman’s name and added, “Its Annettte isn’t it?” He saw her nod, and noticed the incredulation in her eyes, he wondered at that but said nothing, just awaited her answer.

Her face altered when she replied, the swell of love for her child plain to see in her stormy grey eyes, “She’s just over a year, started walking recently, into everything now. My parents look after her while I’m working, she keeps them on their toes.” Annette laughed, Joe laughed too picturing this, feeling his heartstrings tug to know this. “I’d love to meet her.” He surprised Annette by saying, “Can I give you a lift home?”

“You still want to know…” Annette’s words faltered, she hadn’t meant to say that, but she’d been so surprised by his reply.

“Sure.” Joe’s eyes crinkled at the corners, “And maybe she’ll let me take her mommy out this weekend, maybe go to the zoo, would she like that?” Annette gasped, “You mean you’ll take her with us, you don’t mind!” Joe smiled, “I’d like nothing better.” He told her sincerely. Annette’s heart raced, and in that split second in the dazzling sight of his smile she saw her future and that of her daughter’s and children to come, children with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes just like those of the gorgeous man in front of her.

“That’ll be great, thank you Mr Maxwell.”

“Its Joe. And it’s a date then? Saturday morning ten o’clock do?” Annette nodded, her eyes dancing with joy, her smile dazzling him making the blood pound in his veins, it was a long time since he’d felt this way, and he was delirious with happiness. “Come, I’ll give you that lift and you can show me where you live.” Like the perfect gentleman he guided Annette to the passenger side of the car, opening her door, seeing her settled inside, helping her with the seatbelt before closing the door and returning to the driver’s side, his footstep light and bouncy, a song in his heart.

Deep below the city Catherine and Vincent after a long and arduous session of lovemaking lay blissfully happy in one another’s arms and spoke softly of their future.

“Any regrets?” Vincent asked after a lengthy conversation with Catherine. He had to be sure, though he was growing surer and surer with her every moment they were together. Not only of her, but of himself, never would he be without Catherine again, she was his life, his heart and the other half of his soul.

“None.” Catherine snuggled closer and Vincent kissed the top of her head. His heart almost stopped though when she said, “Except maybe one.” But relaxed again as she explained, “I wish Joe hadn’t been hurt so in all of this. I wish he could find that special someone to love just as you and I have each other.” Vincent hoped so too. Joe was a good man and he deserved to find someone to love and to be a part of.

What neither of them knew was at that very moment far above Joe, driving beneath a full moon hanging lazily on nothing, was blissfully weaving possibilities as he drove along…his future wife at his side.