Beneath the city streets Vincent wandered aimlessly through the tunnels. Devin’s message had relieved him, but he couldn’t get it out of his head that something awful was going to happen. And besides any of that the fact that Elliot Burch had pipped him at the post at the last.
He might have just married Catherine, but at that moment which of the two had her attention?
He knew he couldn’t have expected Catherine to stay, but it peeved him just a little that she had gone so readily.
Was it only hours earlier that he had been the happiest man alive? Did he imagine that she had floated toward him, a vision of satin and lace and had stood at his side to become his wife? Had he imagined the happiness he had felt flowing from her or her anticipation of their night ahead?
He had given Peter back his keys. They would not need them now. And that was another thing. The gift had been thrown back in Peter’s face. And as much as Peter had wanted to understand Catherine’s leaving like that, Vincent knew that for the life of him Peter couldn’t do so. Even Father had seemed disgusted.
In fact everyone that he knew had been heartbroken for him. Not one of them had shown any concern over the welfare of Elliot Burch. Vincent knew he couldn’t blame Catherine, but it rankled that she had been compelled to go, today of all days. Her going had marred the special occasion and it would always stand between them.
He didn’t pay any attention as to where he walked, so he was surprised when his feet led him to the Great Hall where the festivities had fizzled out hours earlier. No one it had seemed had been in the frame of mind to let it continue after Catherine had left. The warmth had gone out of the occasion so when Vincent pushed open the great heavy doors he was surprised to find some people had lingered.
Peter was still there. Mary and Jamie were taking down the flowers and the ribbons, and Mouse was sweeping up the petals that had been showered before Catherine as she had walked up the makeshift aisle.
It all seemed a dream now.
All eyes turned to him as he entered with their eyes wary. It was not unlike Vincent to trash the place. A sudden fury would rise up out of nowhere and he could at any moment sweep the last vestiges of the occasion away as if trying to clear it from his very mind itself. Mary took a few tentative steps towards him but Peter stilled her progress with a hand to her arm. He too had seen the look that had passed over Vincent’s face. In that frame of mind, one sweep of the younger man’s arm would send Mary reeling before he’d even realised. But Vincent’s temper relented and he slumped down instead into the nearest chair and let the threatened tears fall. Mary pulled away from Peter’s grasp then and hurried to his side, leaning over him to enfold him to her breast. “Let it come Vincent. Let it come, don’t feel ashamed for your tears. Let us cry them with you.” She rocked him, much the same as she had done a thousand times throughout his childhood, and on many other occasions since when things had been too much for him. Especially the occasion with Lisa and then after Catherine had come into his life. More so during the dreadful time when Catherine had been held hostage by some madman who had believed Catherine was pregnant with Vincent’s child. She hadn’t of been but he would not believe that, and had held her for months, and Vincent had been unable to locate her while the connection Catherine had shared with him had been temporarily broken after one of Vincent’s fevers.

It had been Elliot that had come to their aid. Elliot who had taken a bullet intended for Vincent, and Elliot who had reunited Vincent with his Catherine. Mary knew they had a lot to thank Elliot for, but why today of all days?
Vincent clung to her, his tears falling more and more steadily as via the connection he could feel Catherine going further and further away from him. She’d be on the plane now but her heart was heavy and she was as distressed as he was.

Pulling back from Mary’s embrace he told her softly, “Thank you Mary, but I think I will go to my chamber now. I can feel Catherine through the connection and Devin is with her so I can rest as regards to her safety.”

“Devin is with her?” Father who had just entered caught the last few words from his son.

Vincent nodded, “He offered to go.”

Father let out a long sigh of relief, “Thank God for that. That makes me a whole lot happier.”

Vincent stared at him misinterpreting. Father saw the look; “I mean it. I know Devin has his faults but just knowing he’s with Cathy makes me feel a whole lot better.”

“I agree.” Peter told them. “We all know that Cathy thinks she is indestructible and takes far too many chances. At least having someone to hold her back will be an asset.”

“As long as Devin doesn’t allow himself to get caught up in the excitement and go along with her.” Vincent spoke up. Everyone looked to him.

“Such pessimism. Why can’t you be positive for once in your life?” Father chuckled attempting a lighter side of things but he was glad to see that Vincent was smiling.

“You know, did anyone think of contacting Elliot Burch at his hotel in Brazil? Maybe he was all right? Maybe he wasn’t on that plane. Maybe he missed the plane, or made a reservation he couldn’t keep. A simple phone call would have told us that.” Mary asked suddenly.

All heads turned to her mouths agape.

“Surely Catherine…” Father attempted. Peter took it up, “Yes she would have, I’m certain of it. She would have tried that, wouldn’t she?”

Vincent looked from one to the other of them his heart hammering. None of it made any sense. If he were to go along with their train of thought it would be stupid. Catherine always checked her facts, and if on this one occasion she didn’t then why wouldn’t she? Did she after all, use the reason of Elliot’s supposed death to get her out of the night ahead?
Vincent thought back to the days preceding their marriage. Had she shown any indication that she wanted out?

“What are you thinking?” Mary asked looking from Father to Peter in turn.

“I’m not sure that I want to think anything.” Father told her as his glance settling upon the top of Vincent’s head, his eyes seeming to be saying, ‘not here anyway’. But Vincent had had enough. He rose to his feet in one fluid movement shaking his arm free of Mary where she hadn’t relinquished her hold on him. “Catherine has gone to help a friend - can’t any of you see that? If she didn’t call first, if that’s out of character then perhaps that’s because she had other things on her mind, another person on her mind. Me! She married me not Elliot Burch. Me! And she is coming back home to me. I know it here.”

He pointed to the region of his heart, “Catherine loves me, and she will return!” His temper flared at them and his eyes filled with fury before he turned on his heels and run out of the Great Hall. His heart was hammering in his chest, his mind racing. ‘She will return to me, she will!’ he told himself over and over. Yet even as his mind insisted, his heart was full of doubts.

“Burch?”

“Si.”

Leo shrugged, “He’s of little consequence. Don’t worry, no one will find him.”

“Isn’t that murder?” Pedro was mildly interested now.

“Manslaughter maybe. They’d have to prove it, and after all who knows he’s there?”

“He might find the way out.” A third man, taller than the others, slighter of build and reasonably good looking in a rugged kind of way, came into the picture having listened to his colleagues without interruption, “and then again…” his words trailed away followed by a hint of laughter, “he may not.”

“It doesn’t matter if he does Pepe’, by that time the gems will be removed and we’ll be long gone. Burch cannot travel far without water, and those dry mines go for miles.”

“Help was on its way. I heard from Stuart earlier, there was a woman, a lawyer, she was on her way out here, but Stuart seems to have put her off. Let’s hope she keeps well away.”

“If not, you have my permission to see that she ends up in the same place as Burch.”

Pepe’’ shook his head, “Sorry, you know me, getting rid of the guy is one thing, but mishandling a lady is quite another. I’ll leave little Miss Chandler to you two.”

“That her name?”

“Se. And she once had some kind of relationship with Burch, although Stuart says she has recently married.”

“An old flame then.” Pedro grunted, “might be interesting for the two of them to be down there alone. They can draw comfort from one another, not to mention warmth.” He laughed sinisterly.

“I don’t know how you can be so cool about this. Surely there was some other way. You didn’t have to try and kill the guy.” The conversation grieved Pepe’’.

“Who’s talking about killing him?” Leo butted in. “There is a way out of there.”

“If he finds it, and if he can do so before he runs out of water. Don’t be an idiot man you know the way it is down there. Burch would die before he’d find the way out, and that’s the way of it.”

“Enough of this. Burch is the least of our worries now, as well as a woman that might never arrive. It is this that concerns us now.” Leo pointed back to the map, “There isn’t a lot of time and you know it, we have to get down there before the rains come.”

“And that’s another thing,” Pepe’’ was reluctant to dismiss Elliot Burch’s demise as easily as his colleagues had been, “What about Burch if the rains should flood the mine.”

Leo shrugged, and Pedro laughed as Leo told Pepe’’, “If that happens, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about where to find water.”

Nausea rose in the pit of Pepe’s belly, his two colleagues were talking about the life of an innocent man and Pepe’ couldn’t stomach their wickedness. “If you have finished with me, I’d like to get back to the mine.” He told the two men.

“Leo shrugged, “As you must. I think we have just about finished up here. Pedro?” He looked to the other guy and Pedro nodded. “Se Pepe’’ you can go. We’ll meet again on site, eh?”

Pepe’ nodded, and exited as quickly as possible, finding the atmosphere in the room distasteful.

When he had gone Leo turned to Pedro, “I think our friend might cause us some problems. See that he doesn’t.”

“And if he does?” Pedro asked, idly flicking out dirt from beneath his nails with a long slim knife. Without blinking Leo stared Pedro straight in the eye, “If he does, then he can keep Burch company.”

The banderantes had grown in numbers from frontier settlements in Sao’ Paulo. Many of them outlaws, these men of mixed Tupi Indian and European blood made good money by searching the backwoods for Indian slaves. Then in 1690 one such banderante by the name of Manuel de Borba Gato and himself an exiled murderer discovered gold in the soil of Rio das Velhas. That discovery led to fortune seekers arriving in Brazil from all over the world.
Smuggling became rife when the Portuguese monarch Dom Joao’ V issued a twenty-percent tax on all mined gold and the people resisted the royal tax. This in turn brought about the formation of the revolutionary Inconfidencia Mineira. Made up of intellectuals and led by a dentist or ‘tooth-puller’ as he was then known, by the name of Tiradentes, the Inconfidencia angered by the crown’s taxation and inspired by the French and American Revolution, attempted its own form of independent republic.
Resembling a bill of rights, they drew up a Declaracao which also included freedom of speech and religion, but in trying to inspire the people of Ouro Preto the plot was uncovered, the revolutionaries imprisoned and Tirandentes executed.

Losing himself in the history of yesteryear Devin found a convenient granite wall to sit upon for long moments to imagine what life must have been like back in 1788. His attention was caught by a sign that had upon it the same words featured upon the leaflet in his hand, and curious, Devin jumped off the wall, picked up his suitcase once more and followed the cobblestone street down to the main square.
Here he went up the steps into the Museu da Confidentencia a museum that held the bill of rights imprisoned inside a small black book, and also the barbaric tools of Tiradentes dentistry as well as a room of granite slabs fashioned like tombstones.

Back outside in the sunshine, the scent of Pap de Queijo a bread made more from cheese than flour reminded Devin that it had been a long time since he had last eaten. Looking around for somewhere to eat, another museum beckoned but it was a nearby church that won his favour and Devin decided to explore one more building before satisfying his stomach.
Pushing open the door Devin gasped at the sight that met his eyes. Huge ornate candlesticks made him think temporarily of life in the tunnels beneath New York City but there the similarity ended.
These candlesticks flanked tabernacles of silver and gold, and upon the walls and the ceiling stretched huge paintings depicting biblical scenes. The walls too were covered with gold painted grapevines backed by pale blue.
Awe-struck, Devin found words popping into his head, ‘Oh yes, Mr Burch, you certainly know how to pick ‘em.’ For Devin could see that Elliot Burch’s development at Ouro Preto would have become as much a gold mine for the modern day man as it had for its ancestry.
Back outside in the sunlight Devin’s stomach reminded him furiously that he needed food inside him and soon, and he followed the scent of the cheesy bread until it led him to a small bar littered with cane chairs along the edge of the cobblestone streets.
Ordering his meal and some beer to follow it down, Devin was stunned to see two familiar men enter the bar and could not believe his good fortune as he recognised them to be the two men he had seen on the plane. One glanced at him, mildly interested, but it was not unusual to meet people from the same flight converging upon Ouro Preto, so they paid him scant interest. Devin though strained his ears over the soft hum of ever-present music to listen to them talking.
Chewing slowly so as not to drown out the sound of their voices Devin tried to seem occupied with the leaflet in front of him so as not to draw undue attention to himself.
They were seated three tables to one side of him, and he could only catch odd words as the bar filled and unfilled with people enticed by the scent of the freshly baked Pap de Queijo went in and out of the bar. But the little he did catch was of profound interest.

“So what did De-Vereyard say when you called him?”

“He was mildly interested, you know Pepe’, once I told him I had put the woman off he lost interest."

“You don’t think Chandler will pose any problems?”

“Not now. She has her reputation to consider besides what could she do?”

He paused as he thought of something else. “And where would she begin? And why would she not believe the telegram I sent her?”

“Exactly, that’s what got me worried. Any normal person would have believed it. The bulletins believed it for God sake, so why not this woman? I’ll tell you shall I, that woman has a nose for trouble, not to mention a thing with old Burchy.”

“No, you’re wrong. Once maybe but not for several years now. Still though I know that they have kept in touch, but that’s just one of those business things.”

“Then why may I ask was she on her way out here?”

“Tying up lose ends maybe. Look I don’t know, and it’s all circumstantial anyway. If she comes she comes, if she doesn’t she doesn’t, either way Pedro will handle it, it’ll have nothing to do with us. Besides…”

A sudden bustle from a group of tourists trying to speak the lingo with the aid of a language book prevented Devin from hearing the last part of the conversation, but he felt he had heard enough.
Catherine’s thwarted attempt at preventing her from arriving in Brazil had been a blessing in disguise. Whatever the two men had said to her had obviously worked, and it would be both in her and Vincent’s interests if he, Devin, sent a further telegram of his arrival in Brazil and made Catherine believe that he could handle things alone. No one would suspect his involvement and as he followed the two men back out into the sunshine and set about following them once again, Devin was filled with optimism that his deception of being just another ordinary tourist would be a sufficient disguise.

“Just follow the bats.” Pepe’ told the air, “Use your brain man. Where do you think the bats feed? In the tunnels?” Pepe’ thought Mr Burch must be quite a stupid man if after three days down the mine- shaft he was still in the same place awaiting food and water to be dropped down to him. “What does he think I am? His jailer?” But no matter what Pepe’ thought about the entire situation his heart troubled him. The rains would soon arrive and then Mr Burch’s chances of survival would grow exceedingly thin. He’d have plenty of water true, but the weight of water would crumble the all ready unsteady mine and his escape route, that he seemed unaware of, would be blocked. And yet Pepe’ feared that to make Mr Burch aware of the way out would bring ostracism upon his head when Leo and Pedro were to discover what he had done.
Oh why oh why did the gems have to be discovered on the very same day that the contract for the sale had been signed? After exhausting the mine of its iron ore, why did it have to be that a random dig had revealed a quantity of topaz that was worth a fortune? Usually the amount of cuttable gemstone in any one area was very small. And this had been a mine for iron ore for God’s sake, why did topaz have to be discovered there?
For years they had mined that area, all that had come from it was iron ore and copper a few deposits of gold a little silver, but never any gems. So why on the very day that the contracts were exchanged had topaz been discovered inside it? Was it an omen perhaps? Leo and Pedro certainly believed it to be so. Pedro’s family had been against the sale of the mine from the start. Oh development of the town was tempting, so too was the idea of the resort that Elliot Burch had planned to build, but that shaft had been in the family for generations, and had they really exhausted its entire supply? Could it be that more materials could be waiting to be harvested further down? Surely if conditions were right then the supply should be endless? These were the arguments with which Pedro had been faced, but to which he had turned a deaf ear. Panning gold and mining iron ore was a thing of the past. Let the earth keep its resources, for a greater, faster fortune could be achieved through the development of a resort.
Pepe’ kicked at a stone as he ambled along. He’d seen gem stone mines, they could be as small as a normal sized living room. The conditions that allowed them to grow took time and those conditions could be very restricted, resulting in any area found presenting gemstone to be very small indeed.
No matter how rapidly demand for such stones developed, Pepe’ knew that the rate of developing gems was slow and fixed. It was not something to be hurried, but that too led to the fact that the demand for any discovery would be all the greater.
This mine, this one in question, where the topaz had been discovered had been under threat for years. A dwindling supply of iron ore and copper had produced only one thing, a family growing poorer day by day, an area that should have revealed unspoilt beauty lay open and gaping with the evidence of mining everywhere.
That was no life. A hoped for fortune that came only to the few, while the rest lived on dreams. Well dreams did not feed a belly, did not clothe a child, and did not build an empire, but a resort could. It would bring tourism and trade and it would bring jobs to the many, and just a few short weeks ago the occupants of Ouro Preto had rejoiced to find that a rich American had been interested in buying the land. And then suddenly three families, partners in the mining of iron ore were faced with the sickening reality that the mine beneath their recently sold land was suddenly worth a fortune in gemstones. And that there was only one quick and sure-fire way to harvest the topaz before Mr Burch learned of its discovery and reaped the benefits himself, and that was to disappear the man. Except Pepe’ couldn’t do it. Not that way. Perhaps if they had just shot the man. Perhaps if they just slit his throat one dark and stormy night, perhaps then he could have accepted it, but to push him down a mineshaft, well that was wrong. It meant a slow and tortuous death especially if the man had been injured as Pepe’ had once been.
Swaying slightly now, Pepe’ leaned against a granite wall to take deep breaths. Not a day went by that he did not remember the all-consuming darkness of being trapped in tunnels. He shivered. Not many years ago, he laughed who was he kidding? - Not many years ago huh - Pepe’ knew exactly how much time had lapsed since that dreadful time. He knew to the day - no to the hour and the shivering grew worse as Pepe’ put himself in Mr Burch’s present position.
Three years ago, three years, two months, nine days and seventeen hours ago Pepe’ had fallen into a mineshaft, that very same mine shaft. What irony huh? And for five days he had wandered in total all-consuming darkness with a broken foot seeking the way out. But it was his knowledge of the tunnels that had aided his escape from the living death. It was his knowledge from years of working the mine that had seen him safely through the labyrinth of tunnels, even though his throat cried out for water and the pain in his foot was excruciating. It had only been five days, but at the time it had seemed like five months. Dragging a broken limb over the craggy terrain, hands in front, walking through a darkness so thick that it blanketed his skin, and calling upon all his senses to lead him to freedom had almost sent him mad. And finally toward the end of that fifth day Pepe’ had found himself at his desired destination, having negotiated a labyrinth of tunnels by going ever forward and never turning away from the straight run.
There ahead of him he had seen a tiny pinprick of light, signifying life, and hope and freedom, and Pepe’ would never ever forget the feeling of joy that that sight had brought to him.
After five days he had reached his destination. He had arrived at the mine beneath Minas de Passagem knowing that here in the old mine he would find his freedom.
For this mine had become a tourist attraction. Once its resources of iron ore, gold, copper and silver had run dry, this mine had been turned into a silver resource of another kind. A money spinner, bringing visitors descending into its pit on a small cart until they reached a level deep underground where bright electric lights lit up the tunnels.
It was this light that Pepe’ had seen both in his minds eye on the five day journey and literally when he had turned the last corner and seen it far ahead of him. And he could still hear the pounding of his heart beat rushing in his ears on the day he had finally seen that tiny pin-prick of light so far ahead.
The light at the end of the tunnel that to Pepe’ would forever after represent his freedom.
Closing his eyes now as thoughts of those days trapped in the tunnels came back to haunt him, as it invariable did when he allowed himself to think about it deeply, Pepe’ felt his body sway and he fell to his knees on the dusty red clay road. For long moments he knelt there winded, eyes closed, mumbling a prayer of thanksgiving for his spared life, yet deep down inside did not believe that prayer to be heard in view of his allowing another to suffer the way that he had done. It was worse for Mr Burch for he did not know the tunnels.
He did not know that the coming and going of bats would signify a way of escape, and he did not know that he was not being kept a prisoner only fed until his release… He did not know that he was meant to die down there in that deep dark pit…and he did not know that people already believed him to be dead…dead in an aeroplane that had crashed into the sea not far off from New York City.
No one would come for him, for no one would expect that he had never left Brazil. People would search, oh yes they would search through a wreckage of a plane that had been auto piloted to drop five miles short of New York city, with the supposed passenger of Elliot Burch on board. They would conclude that the crash had killed him, and his body had sunk to the bottom of the ocean and no one would ever know the truth. But for Pepe’ and a handful of other people who did not care. But Pepe’ was not like them, for he had known how deep the pit was, and how it could send a man mad, and how he would not wish that kind of torture upon his worst enemy.
Grief stricken and still on his knees, Pepe’ groaned loudly, hands to his head wishing he were anywhere on earth at that moment except where he was. And suddenly he was aware that he was not alone as firm hands clutched to his side beneath his arm pits and dragged him to his feet, and a voice foreign yes but decipherable asked if he was all right.
Pepe’ opened his eyes, and blinked for several seconds as he brought himself back to reality and sharp focus of his situation. “I’m sorry, it is all right. For a moment there I don’t know what came over me.” He lied. How could he tell the man whose kindly face with obvious concern, looked down upon him now?

“Did you faint?”

“Faint? No, no I did not faint. Believe me it is all right. It was something, a memory that’s all. It over came me all of a sudden. Please don’t worry. I will be fine now.” But the stranger seemed unwilling to go.

Pepe’ felt firm hands upon his brow and then another grasping his wrist, “Don’t worry I am a doctor.” There was a short sharp laugh, “Well that’s not strictly true. I am a doctor’s son. But believe me I know a bit about first aid and health care, and your erratic heartbeat tells me that you should rest and take some water. Here, drink some of mine.” A bottle was thrust into Pepe’s hands, and he mumbled his thanks, but beckoning to the bag at his side showed that he had some of his own. “Do you live near here?” He was being questioned again. What was it with the fellow, why couldn’t he just leave him be?

“Yes, near by.”

“Where?” With a hand held to his brow the stranger scanned the area but could see nothing but the ugly sight of mining from times past.

“You can’t see it from here.” Pepe’ told him, “Look you have been very kind, but please be on your way. My wife will soon arrive and she will lead me home.” Pepe’ lied again, desperate to have the man leave. Mr Burch will be hungry and thirsty and it would be dark soon. Pepe’ did not want to stumble above the old mine, lest he fell into it again. The thought of that alone brought the memories rushing back.

“We’ll wait for her together shall we? You should not be alone.” Something inside Pepe’ snapped. Was it fear, anger, what? He just knew he had to get the supplies to Mr Burch before sun down and this stranger, intentions good he knew was getting in his way. He said the first thing that came into his head. “Please go, leave me. It is my girlfriend that is meeting me, my wife does not know, and if you should escort me to my house my wife will worry about me and escort me everywhere from this time on, and my life will not be my own anymore.”

The stranger listened and detecting the desperation in the man’s tone did not hesitate to believe his story. “Well just make sure that you rest, promise me that.”

“I promise.”

“Then I’ll go. So long.”

“Adios.”

Pepe’ watched the tall dark-haired stranger move away and when he was safely out of sight, Pepe’ scrambled to his feet and made his way hastily toward the mine-shaft that had become Elliot Burch’s tomb.

It had all begun a little under three months ago.
Catherine had returned from work later than usual, irritated at having missed a concert with Vincent, because Joe had ‘insisted’ that she should work late. Sometimes the man could be so infuriating! But she had relented because she had ‘owed him one’ as he had sourly put it when she had arrived in at ten o’clock on more than one occasion during the past week and he had covered for her with Moreno. And Catherine guessed that everything might have been okay. That she might have ridden out the storm raging inside of her at having missed a rare evening with the man that she loved, had it of not been for those damned hormones that plagued a woman near her time of the month.
So sitting out on the balcony alone, a cup of almost cold coffee in her hands, Catherine had felt the tears begin to flow, those damn emotional tears that a woman knew she couldn’t stop simply because it was so.
Coffee forgotten Catherine had lay her head upon her folded arms upon the table, her seat pushed out, her back slumped forward while the hot falling tears scalded her cheeks.
How long she had wadded in self-pity she did not know, how long she had cried out her heart she did not care. It was as if suddenly the dam had busted and everything, all the denials, all the raging unfulfilled desire had suddenly burst out of her in one almighty rush.
She should have realised of course, but she did not, and it wasn’t until she felt a firm yet warm pressure upon her shoulder that she realised with deepest regret that her tears, her anguish had brought Vincent to her side. That the Bond that they shared so deeply would tell him of her distress and he would come to her like a pin to a magnet, or more appropriately in this case, she sniffed, a moth to a flame.
Yes that was it.
Catherine did not turn nor acknowledge his presence behind her, nor seek through the Bond to know his feelings. Instead she contemplated that likeness. He was the moth, she the flame and he dared to go so close as to not get burned. And she the flame beckoned, this way and that way in fluid dance encouraging and watching him come as close as he dared, but always he was that tiny bit distant, always he remained within his realm of safety.

“Catherine?” She did not know how many times he had spoken her name softly on the wings of a breath, but she was certain it had been more than once before the sound pulled her out of her retrospect. In his voice, that simply utterance of her name Catherine heard all his anxiety, felt all of his love, so why couldn’t it just be so? Why could she not respond to his calling her to him, turning and standing on tip toe to brush her soft lips against his? Why did she always have to brace herself as she continually came face to face with his fears, the same fears that he would not confront and pass beyond? Catherine knew that he loved her, but this relationship was going nowhere, and it pained her deeply. It pained them both deeply if truth be known.
His hand upon her shoulder squeezed a little, the firm pressure drawing her around to face him. Vincent longed to gather her to him, to brush away her tears with the pads of his fingers and to taste from them the salty dew with the tip of his tongue.
If only it were simpler. If only he could turn her to face him, pull her up into his arms and kiss away her tears with his lips.
Vincent’s heart was breaking.
He knew not her distress, but something told him that it had something to do with them, with him.
“Catherine?” He could only repeat her name, borne as it was from the depths of his heart where it nestled constantly.
He asked but he dared fear the answer, “Why do you cry? Has something happened at your place of work?” Though he knew that was not so, still he was stunned when instead of her expected reply she buried her face more firmly upon her arms and sobbed even harder.
That hurt. That really hurt. Vincent’s heart was bleeding with the pain and through a blur of tears each one of his hands reached beneath her armpits and pulled her to her feet. She came to him easily, her back held against the lean hardness of him, as if she were a mere rag doll that lacked substance.
There was no fight in her, and Vincent’s heartache consumed him. Turning her, his hands tangled in her hair he pulled her face close to his chest, kissing the top of her head as she nestled there and with his heart breaking he let her cry.
Catherine did not know how long she stood in the security of his arms but she suddenly felt very foolish. Her tears dried rapidly and she attempted some speech that would not come. Shyly she drew back just a little, daring to look up at him. In that rare unguarded moment what she saw in his eyes accelerated her heartbeat and her movements froze.
There was passion and desire, and there, yes surely there in his eyes, their dream came wonderfully, fantastically true.
He felt her move in his arms, felt her stiffen as her gaze rested upon his face. Through the Bond he felt her heart race and for one moment the need to flee and to hide from her the raw and naked desire he felt whenever he was around her was paramount. But then he relaxed, what did it matter anyway? Wasn’t she aware of how he felt? Of how he really felt? Did he not share the dream with her? In her? How long must they continue the way? The way that had been set for them? Almost three years now since he had found her that cold and bitter night. The night that had changed his life forever. And he knew that the dreams Catherine harboured were as one with his own, but could it ever be more than a dream? Could it really?
He felt, rather than saw her fingers touch his chin, glide up over the firm planes to touch his cheeks, to feel his tears wet upon her fingertips. He heard her voice, strangled by a sob, “Oh Vincent.” In that one word, in that simple utterance of his name he felt the complete and utter depth of her love for him and he was lost.
In that rarest of moments, a moment snatched out of time, Catherine could not decide whether it was Vincent or that ‘other’ that suddenly held her so fiercely. The firm pinpricks of his claws touched her skin through her satiny pyjamas and while her mind acknowledged the feel of them there, so too did it reel to find the hard length of him pulsating against her thigh. Catherine moaned, unable to help herself. Liquid desire raged through her limbs culminating in the very pit of her femininity and in like manner she sought the heat of his desire. Her arms gathered him close, closer, their bodies fusing as one, out there against the wall of her balcony, everything real and solid and safe against the unreality of what they were feeling, of what they were doing. Of what Vincent was allowing to happen!
Catherine heard him expel a groan. The raspy sound guttural and muffled against her throat. It had to be that ‘other’. Catherine’s heart plummeted. Unwittingly she had unleashed the beast. It was Vincent that she wanted. Vincent that she desired, not this primal beast that knew no boundaries.
She knew he had always matched her need. Yet hadn’t she tamed the beast before, but how could she allow him to take her? If she did what would that do to the man that she loved?
Catherine felt his hands through a haze of misgivings, felt the pads of both thumbs brush against the sensitised peaks of her breasts and a moan expelled from her throat of its own violation. Oh how she wanted him. Did it matter? Did it really matter that he was not in control? Could she lead him, would he follow if she walked toward her bedroom now? Did she dare? Did she have the courage to get that far and see Vincent run when that ‘other’ gave way as he surely must? And what then would become of their dream?
As she sought her answers, Catherine became aware of his lips searching her brow. When had they moved from her throat? She did not know. In her mind’s eye his hot breath had never left that area, and it was not until she raised a hand to the place and touched the sticky substance of her own blood that she realised why the warmth had remained.
Vincent would be appalled! Her heart pounded in her chest and rationally she sought ways to get out of this situation and fast before ‘the other’ hurt her further as Vincent had always insisted that he could. But those claws were now slicing through the fabric at her back and as wetness seeped down her side, Catherine knew that the same were true of her breast. Almost as she had thought it, the cold air of the night touched her bare skin, and she knew that the front of her pyjamas lay in tatters exposing her flesh to him.
Daring to raise her eyes to his face Catherine drew in a startled breath. In the stark light streaming out from her apartment his eyes so usually blue were green with desire encased golden glints within them that mesmerised her.
Standing staring up at him Catherine became aware when he inclined his head toward her. She saw him blink rapidly and felt him eradicate himself from her softness. Horror swept through Catherine, Vincent was coming back, fighting within against that ‘other self’.
If he should see the damage that he had done, if he should ever know, then she will have lost him, forever.
Catherine acted swiftly. Pulling back before he had won the battle, she excused herself, fleeing not into the stark contrast of light from dark, but instead to the confines of her darkened bedroom, where she donned a robe thus quickly hiding her tattered clothing from his sight.
Next her neck. Racing to the bathroom, she closed the door before turning on the light, and hurriedly scrubbed away the telltale sign before leaving the bathroom and reaching for a silk scarf to tie around her throat.
Catherine noticed herself as she passed by the mirror. She couldn’t prevent a tiny little laugh at the sight she presented. “New fashion” she told herself, imagining walking into a function wearing nothing but a bathrobe and a silk scarf, before her flash of fun vanished and she faced the task in hand.

Drawing a deep breath Catherine hurried out onto the balcony, expecting to find him where she had left him. Her heart almost burst from her chest when she found he had gone.
That was too much, to expect him there, to expect to see him recovering from himself, from that ‘other self’ and then to find him gone was simply too much.
In automation Catherine walked back to her earlier seat at the table, and slumped into it, the oh so recent tears building behind her lashes once more and she let them come. Let them scald her cheeks once again as wave after wave of utter despair raced through her weary limbs.
Again she did not know how much time had lapsed. That the very streets themselves had become silent did not register in her tired brain, nor did a clock chiming three in the morning penetrate her mind. It was instead a sound, brought about by those ghostly chimes, a shuffling that sounded in the furthest reaches of her darkened balcony that brought Catherine’s head up sharply, her eyes searching through the inky blackness to see what it had been that had disturbed her slumber.
As her vision cleared her heart seemed to jump right out of her breast! Vincent! Vincent was there! He hadn’t been there all along had he? Or had he run from her, only to return afresh drawn by the latest bout of her distress?

“Vincent! How long have you been there?” She whispered, almost afraid that the apparition might melt away with the shadows, that she had imagined his presence after all.

He spoke groggily, the words torn from him, “All night”.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know?”

“I know.”

“Have you been asleep?” Her question was cautious. How much did he remember? His reply stunned her.

“It wasn’t him Catherine, it was me! How then could I sleep?”

For long moments Catherine denied his words. It couldn’t have been. It just couldn’t have been.

“No.” She cried shaking her head, “No Vincent, I saw him, I saw his eyes, green, gold and feral.”

“You saw what your heart wanted you to see, don’t you realise that Catherine? How is it that I can remember? You have no need to don a robe and a scarf to hide what these hands, what this mouth did to sully your perfection. It was me Catherine, me Vincent!” The last words were caught on a sob and Catherine’s heart went out to him. What on earth could she say to rectify matters now?

“You don’t have to say anything Catherine.” She heard him shuffle and knew by the faint silhouette of his position that he was standing now, leaning against the wall of her apartment and she knew what his next words were going to be.

“Wait!” She begged him while rising to her feet but deliberately not approaching him, knowing he would not allow her closeness. “I have something for you.” Her feet felt unsteady and her head light, but Catherine willed herself to say, “Please wait.” As she stepped through into her apartment where the overhead lights blazed.

From his position on the balcony Vincent turned and watched her walk into the room. Though her injuries were covered he could see them still. And he could feel his teeth against her creamy white throat and his claws against her tender skin. And he could feel other things too. What it felt like to hold her close, to be intoxicated by her scent so that every one of his fears was over ridden. He could remember the unadulterated joy singing through his veins when she had cleaved herself against him, willingly giving herself up to the demands of his body and fresh heat surged painfully through Vincent’s thighs as he remembered these things, filling him once again with a desperate need and longing.
Catherine had purchased the book only that morning and went to it immediately. It was as she has left it, bound in gift-wrap and lying upon one of her dinky sofas. It was easier and quicker to lean over the back of the furniture rather than go around to pick up the gift but in that split second of leaning over Catherine gasped out loud.
She had not heard his approach by the soft padding of his footsteps upon the rich density of her carpeting, but she felt him as their bodies had touched. Firm hands grasped her from behind, one either side of her waist, his lower body pressed tightly against her bottom, the circular movements signifying his need, the first gentle then firm pressure of his body tight against hers.
A moan erupted unbidden from Catherine’s throat, as he husked the words, “See it is me Catherine, it is me that needs you so.” Before his words broke into a torrent of tears flooding her soul with heartache.
Shocked her fingers dropped her gift, as her body spun around in time to see him leaving the apartment and her feet on wings of eagles flew after him not knowing that she had even left her place.

“Vincent!” She cried, stopping his retreat momentarily, “Wait!” The word caught on a sob, “Please wait!”

As if words alone were able to mould him into immobility Vincent hesitated. Half over the balcony like someone in fear of his freedom Vincent waited, head bowed and face hidden within the folds of his hooded cloak.

“I love you.” Catherine approached steadily but slowly, “And with love Vincent, all things are possible.”

For a long moment she thought he would say nothing and go, but she was wrong. Her heart hammered painfully in wondrous expectation as he brought back the leg that had already crossed the boundary line, and came to rest alongside the one standing upon her terrace.
He straightened, and Catherine watched hypnotised as he shortened the few feet that separated them, but as the light from her home once again caught his eyes, she knew that she had not imagined this. They were green, the gold glints shining, the feral tint faint but so obviously there.
Catherine held her breath, waiting for she knew not what, almost relieved when he spoke her name.

“Catherine.” It was raspy, it’s resonate sound deep as he came up close to her ear. She felt the hot breath once again on her neck and anticipated the bite to follow. It did not come. Instead Catherine heard the words that would shape and change her future, that would bring their dream to fruition.

“He once said you must go with courage and care my Catherine.” Shivers ran up and down her spine at the chilling sound of the ‘other’s’ voice, “but I say this. Tonight you have seen his passion. You have been shown that equally we are of the same mind. He wants you Catherine. You must be bolder, more daring, you must take the lead, and he will follow. My love, like a lamb he will follow, and the only slaughter will be his.” Catherine swallowed convulsively, understanding the signification at once. If she were to lead and Vincent were to follow, the slaughter he had envisaged to be hers would not happen. The only slaughter would be his, as a lamb to the slaughter he would give himself up to her.
Shivers, delicious shivers rippled over Catherine’s sensitised skin and she watched mesmerised as he stepped away and walked back toward the balcony wall. He would go now Catherine knew that. He would return to his world beneath the city streets taking her heart with him and for now she would let him go.
Their eyes met one last time as he turned to face her and Catherine gasped. His blue and stunningly beautiful eyes met her steady gaze and his voice before he disappeared from her view was husky and purely Vincent’s, “Lead my Catherine and I will follow.”

Her eyes when they searched his asked the question and the doubt there was visibly apparent for him to see. Vincent smiled, kissing the tip of her nose lightly, a bout of humour fusing his heart at his Catherine, lost for words.

“Marry you?” Catherine questioned. Vincent nodded. Catherine expelled a breath, long and deep, “Really?” Her eyes were beginning to shine with hope.

“Yes.”

There were a few seconds of silence while Catherine came back down to earth but seeing Vincent sitting there, hopefully awaiting her answer told her all she needed to know. “Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes.”

Once she had started Catherine could not stop and her lips were everywhere. On his cheeks, his eye lids, his brow, his chin, all around his mouth, everywhere but where he needed them the most, until at last she pulled back and looked at him long and hard her eyes shining with love for him. And then she answered his desperate need, her lips upon his, soft, demanding and oh so very passionate, and Vincent’s heart opened and blossomed like a flower as finally the last of his fears had melted away.

How long he stared at the creamy softness of her skin Vincent did not know.
Her actions had both surprised and frightened him. That she could, would allow him to follow through on such instincts that could only be described as feral he did not know, but even as he fought the instinct that led him now, Vincent knew that it could be no other way.
Reaching out a tentative hand as if he had never touched her nakedness before, Vincent’s finger tips finally encountered warm flesh. Catherine shivered sending spirals of desire shuddering through her frame. He hesitated, his fingers warm upon her but unmoving, as he continued to stare at her body from nape to softly rounded bottom and back up again.
He knew that she waited, holding her breath tightly, and he knew also that she was afraid that he would turn away from her even now.
“I love you.” The words were expelled as much to reassure her, as to tell her of his love, and Vincent felt her relax and release the breath that she had been holding so tightly.
“Roll over.” He pleaded softly and watched as she returned to lying upon her back, her head inclined toward him and watching his every expression. She said nothing, just watched and waited.
Leaning forward Vincent touched his lips to hers and with the muffled words, “you’re sure?” and her affirmative nod, Vincent’s mouth moved lower, seeking out the warmth of her throat.
What she had expected then did not come. She had expected that as before he would feast upon her throat as a lion did his mate before rolling her over and making her his but Catherine was wrong. What he did next both surprised and pleased her for she had not taught him this.
This then was purely instinctive and purely feral.
His tongue, hot and raspy touched her skin, first tentatively and then with a growing agonised need that surprised her.
From her throat to the tip of her breasts he licked her, his tongue tasting from one to the other as if he could not decide where to be most. And then when Catherine thought she would surely go mad with dizzying pleasure, his hot tongue strayed to the tender skin beneath her breasts and he nuzzled there absorbing her scent deeply into his lungs.
From there he licked downward, his finger tips now just grazing her skin lightly, sending bolts of pleasure racing through her inner parts. Catherine wanted to stretch; the desire to do so paramount and all at once she visualised herself as a she cat worshipped by the sun, lying sprawled and wanton in complete abandon to the heat above her.
Vincent, his head surrounded by golden mane and glinting by the light from one solitary candle looked up at her then, and Catherine caught the look in his eyes and her heart soared. They were blue, a deeper shade of blue than she had ever seen them before, and in that light from that solitary candle Catherine was left in sheer amazement that the light of love and unbridled passion from within those depths could be so very clear to her.
Reaching out a hand Catherine stroked her fingers down the side of his cheek and she smiled her encouragement and understanding.
To Catherine Vincent was a man, of that there was no doubt, but he was also half beast too, and there were times when one would over ride the other, and there were times when the two would mingle as one.
This was one of those such times, man and beast, together, loving her together, in complete agreement. That was why the blue eyes revealed the control of the man and the actions spoke of the beast but Catherine a woman of both worlds subjected herself willingly to them both.

“I love you.” Catherine sobbed, her heart aching from sheer happiness and feeling compelled to add, “Both of you. I love parts both of you.”
Vincent smiled and bent his head to nuzzle her flesh again.
Lying back against the pillows Catherine closed her eyes her attention spanned only on the delicious feelings his mouth and hands evoked within her.
This was bliss - this was heaven.
His tongue licked at her sides, up and over each rib beneath the taut skin that covered it, and ever downward to the scent that called to him below. Catherine, her skin sensitised to his every feather light touch absorbed his love deep into herself.
As the pads of his thumbs encountered and strayed over the hardened peaks of her breasts, Catherine expelled a long soft moan as arrow-heads of pleasure shot straight between her thighs causing her entire body to twitch uncontrollably.
For a long while his fingers remained there, softly stroking this way and that over the hardened peaks, his tongue gently lapping around the area of her navel. When suddenly, unexpectedly his hot tongue shot into her navel and Catherine’s hips bucked from the bed, causing Vincent to chuckle just a little. He repeated the action and was rewarded with the same. He had found an erogenous zone, and he intended to return to it another time.
For now though her lower body called to him. Primal yearning drenched his being and her scent heady and dizzying sent him ever on his way.
Sliding himself further down her body, Vincent heard a whimper of protest from his wife as his hands left her breasts, but that was soon replaced by a moan of pleasure as his hands encountered the dewy lips of her femininity.
This feeling was one that Catherine was well used to. After three months of foreplay with him Catherine had grown accustomed to Vincent’s fingers unfolding the petals of her flesh. This he would do while one of his legs held one of hers behind his, and the other pushed her other leg across the mattress, holding it there with his foot, so that her body was wide open to his perusal.
In turn Catherine loved this, giving herself up totally to the capture of her body by his. As his fingers worked and teased her, ripple after ripple of pleasure had brought her to orgasm and he would only release her when she had screamed out his name.
Now in the hazy remembrance of those times, a thought came to Catherine’s mind. Where had he gone afterward while she had lain there recovering?
Always in the aftermath of her orgasm, while she floated somewhere deliriously between heaven and earth, she had known of his absence, but when he had returned on her verge of sleep, he had taken her in his arms, and she had known no more until morning. And vaguely Catherine wondered if he would go, to wherever he went to, this night also.
Yet tonight everything was different even their position. This night, he did not lay at her side bringing her to fulfilment, neither should she expect that after tonight he would refuse to let her see him fully, as she had ached to see him in all his naked glory these past few months. Still though, even while her mind reminded her that she should lead and he should follow, Catherine knew quite well that tonight it was she that followed his lead.
Concentrating hard on the whereabouts of his hands upon her, it seemed that Catherine’s entire focus was on the parting of her flesh before his very eyes. Lazily she lifted heavy lids trying to scrutinise his movements, but could see little without lifting her head from the pillow, and that felt impossible to do. She was drugged. He had drugged her with his love and every limb felt too heavy to move so with a heavy sigh she lay back against the pillows again and gave herself up to his needs.
His hands upon her there, had always amazed her. His claws so treacherously sharp had never, not even once, had damaged the delicate skin of her womanhood. Here he was tenderness itself, every part of him concentrating on the very essence of her, as through the bond he ascertained her every need and complied with it.
Here in the very centre of her he would give, and give until she begged him to stop. Though sometimes he thought now, she would beg him to give more than he was prepared to give, and he smiled with wry humour. Well tonight if she so begged then he would deny her no more.
Tonight after he had sent her spiralling into orgasm he would have no need of leaving her in order to milk his heated flesh in the bathing chamber that he shared with Father. Tonight they would be as one in every sense of the word and he would willingly give himself up to her.
Watching her now, waiting as he felt the rippling tides of her orgasm climbing to a peak, Vincent surveyed the sight before him with lazy, hungry eyes. His timing was perfect. Through the Bond he sensed her climb, his fingers touching and rubbing here, and there, delving deeper around the folds.
Teasing her thus was torturous to both he and her, yet he would not touch her honeyed cavern until the very last, until she had reached the very pinnacle of her passion. Then he would delve his fingers deep inside, bringing her up and over the top and away into infinity and beyond.
How he loved her then. How he would look on with wonder, that she this beautiful woman could allow one such as he to touch her so intimately, could allow hands such as his to touch such perfection as her beautiful body.
She was growing closer now. Vincent could feel the urgency in her, the twitching of her limbs, and beneath his legs, the curling of her toes. Her head thrashing from side to side her hands reaching out on either side of her, her fingers clutching at the sheets wildly. And at that moment Vincent did something he had always yearned to do, had always ached to do ever since her scent had called to him from that very first time.
Bending his head he touched her jewelled offering with the tip of his tongue then delved deeper into the heat of her body.
Oh the taste of her…the feel of her quivering flesh upon his tongue, the scent…Oh the scent…
Catherine screamed, her arms and legs wildly thrashing upon the bed, her hands leaving the sheets to clasp and tangle viciously in Vincent’s hair, holding him tighter and tighter against her…
He kissed her over and over, his mouth dancing a rhapsody of love upon the deepest reaches of her, taking her higher, higher than she had ever been before, until her hands slid from his hair to lay at her sides and her laboured breathing signified her journey to insanity.
At that same moment Vincent rolled her, lying her upon her side, and inched his body closer to hers. His breathing ragged, Catherine half felt one of his hands slide down her belly and reach between her legs to open her to him as the other guided his manhood into her from behind.
Then there was nothing, nothing but the indescribable joy of being fused together as one, his body entering hers, his mouth on her neck and knowing at last the pure and unadulterated rapture of giving pleasure back to the man that she loved.
Joined they moved in perfect harmony, silent for a time, until Vincent lost in a delirious haze of passion shuddered to climax roaring her name. Catherine smiled. That sweet knowing smile of lovers, of first time lovers, as wave after wave of satisfaction and pleasure engulfed them both.
They had made it. They had joined, become as one. The dream had become reality. There would be no more looking back.
With that dizzying happy thought in mind, Catherine slept, curled in the safety of the arms of the man she adored still joined with him as one.

Peter had left little notes around the place, purely for guidance only, and also because he didn’t want the newlyweds to be disturbed by patients calling to make appointments. Therefore he had left a diagram that the telephone in the study was to be ignored should it ring, but the telephone in the lounge with an extension to each bedroom should be answered if it should ring.
It rang.
It was almost dawn, yet for once had it not of been for the sound of the telephone Vincent would have overslept. Had he of been dependant on leaving with the dawn to escape back to his world beneath the city streets, he would have missed his chance.
Groggy eyed and startled he bolted straight upright reaching out automatically for the offending thing that had woken him, intent on killing it much as Catherine had intended on the very many mornings her alarm clock had woken her.

“It’s the phone.” Catherine’s muffled voice told him from somewhere deep beneath the covers, “I’ll get it.” She made a half-hearted attempt to move, but lost the battle.

Vincent smiled, “I’m nearest, I’ll get it.” He reached out a hand and lifted the receiver bringing it to his ear, “Hello?”

The last voice he had expected to hear was Devin’s!

“Vincent that you?”

“Yes…Devin?”

“So you bedded the wench then…. Sorry. I mean so you and Catherine spent the night together then?”

Vincent smiled wryly and answered softly, “Yes.” And his eyes took on a distant dreamy look as he began to remember the night past.

“Is she there?” Vincent detected the urgency in his brother’s voice.

“Yes. But she is still sleeping.”

“No I’m not.” Catherine half listening to the conversation struggled to sit up beside her husband.

“Can I speak to her, “ Devin was given the distinct impression that if it were up to his brother, Vincent would have denied his request, and his reluctant affirmation confirmed his suspicions.
Taking the receiver from her husband, Catherine placed it to her ear, “Devin where are you?”

“I’m in Brazil. Cathy, you were right!”

“Right?”

“Yes, your suspicions about Burch? Well you were right. He is alive, though where is anyone’s guess. Are you still coming out here?” Excited and anxious Devin awaited her reply. It was a long time in coming.

“Cathy?”

“I’m still here. Look Devin I think you should come back. Elliot has a whole work force that could handle this…”at mention of Elliot’s name Catherine felt Vincent stiffen beside her, and she continued, “Just come back home Devin, its not our problem.”

“What does he want you to do?” Vincent asked, then without waiting for her reply, he took back the receiver and spoke to his brother, “Devin?”

“Yes Vin?”

“What is it you want Catherine to do?”

“I hoped she would come out here, to Brazil.”

“You’re in Brazil?”

Hearing this Catherine gasped with a hand to her mouth as she realised she hadn’t let Devin know that she was returning home.

“Yes have you forgotten already that I was going? That must have been some night you had Vin.” Devin laughed.

Vincent ignored the last of his reply, “Catherine thinks you should come home.”

“Yes I know.” Devin sounded reluctant.

“What is it?” Vincent asked concerned.

“I’ve never been to Brazil Vin, its nice here, think I’ll stick around awhile, okay?”

Vincent’s smile turned into a chuckle, “And no snooping?”

“God’s honour. Strictly sightseeing. No snooping, I’ll leave that to Burch’s mob though it might be as well to turn the information I heard over to the police in New York. Maybe Joe Maxwell can do something with it even.”

“Maybe I’ll talk to Catherine. So exactly what did you find out?”

Devin explained the conversation he had overheard on the plane, leaving out the bit about Catherine’s part in it, he didn’t want his brother worried unnecessarily, and Vincent promised he would do something with the information to help Mr Burch.
Beside him Catherine listened in awe. It should have been her speaking to Devin. By the sound of things Devin had some crucial information that she being a lawyer had a right to, but Vincent was deliberately preventing her from talking the call. Yet rather than being peeved about it Catherine was awe struck by the masterful way that her husband was handling the matter.

“So we’ll see you in about a month Devin?”

“About that. Don’t worry if the time goes over, there is a lot to see.”

“But you’ll keep in touch? Devin promise me report back every few days. Leave a message here at Peter’s…”his voice trailed away, and Devin understood, “Just so the little wifey doesn’t get it into her head that I’ve been hung and quartered and come rushing out here to find me huh?”

Vincent chuckled, “Something like that.”

“Thought so, thought you’d left it a bit too late to show such brotherly love.” Vincent fell silent. “Aw come on Vin don’t go all quiet on me, I know you love me really.” Devin laughed. “Look gotta go Vin, this call is expensive and then some. Just don’t worry about me huh?”

“You’ll call?”

“I’ll call, I’ll call…don’t worry so much…save it until you have kids…”He laughed again wickedly so, “Bet you never thought of that bro?”

Vincent coloured, no he hadn’t. “Bye Devin.” He heard Devin laugh heartily as he replaced the receiver before turning slowly to Catherine.

“What?” The look of horror in his eyes startled her. One moment talking to his brother, the next looking down at her as if she was the last person he expected to see in his bed at five o’clock in the morning. Concerned Catherine touched his arm, “What’s the matter? What is it?”

Unable to string his words together, Vincent uttered odd phrases. “Devin made me realise… Catherine I never thought… all this time… I never realised… Catherine… Oh Catherine…” He started to sob then.

Pulling him into her arms Catherine clung to him, “My love what is it? What did Devin remind you of?”

Misty blue eyes met green as Vincent looked up at her, his hand touching her belly, “Catherine… I … Catherine… you…”

“Oh that Devin!” Catherine exclaimed understanding at once, “You wait till I catch up with him!”

“Why?” Vincent looked totally perplexed.

“He told you I could get pregnant didn’t he? Well didn’t he?” A huge smile lit Catherine’s eyes. His eyes wide Vincent swallowed convulsively, and nodded, unable to reply. “And so I could Vincent Wells. But so what?”

“So…so…what? Catherine!”

“Oh Vincent!” Catherine hugged him tightly before drawing back again to search his eyes, and trace her finger tips along his cheek, “To have a child, to have children in your image, don’t you know how happy that would make me?”

Vincent shook his head, “Catherine I cannot…”

“You cannot what? Allow it? It may already be too late for that my love. Isn’t that like shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted?” Catherine smiled just like the proverbial Cheshire cat humouring him.
Flopping back against the pillows, Vincent exhaled a deep sigh, his mind filled with raging thoughts, yet unable to utter a single word.

“Vincent?” At her questioning tone, he inclined his head. His eyes filled with such sorrow pained her deeply. “I love you Vincent. All of you, both of you. Did I not prove that to you last night? Did I not accept the whole of you willingly, did I not marry you yesterday, pledging to spend the rest of my life with you?
Vincent my only sadness in this life is that you are the only one of your kind, I can barely understand that kind of loneliness. It hurts me for you, and to be able to bring others like you into this world brings me the greatest of joys. I would be happy to give you babies Vincent. I would be happy to have your babies.”

Vincent could not speak. He looked on still, trying to believe, knowing he must believe because the bond spoke no lies, yet feeling incapable of doing so. He felt thoroughly miserable.

“Love me Vincent.” Catherine’s words husky and impassioned went straight to his heart, and he was disheartened to realise straight to another area also. “Love me like you loved me last night.”

Vincent groaned how could he deny her, that? Didn’t he want her too? Yet what of the consequences?

“It’ll be all right my love.” Catherine rubbed his arm up and down in reassurance, it might be an impossibility you know.” She smiled as he visibly relaxed in her arms, clutching at any hope.

“Yes.” He replied, “It might be that our differences…”

“Yes.” Catherine told him, her bright eyes hiding the ache in her heart as his relief became so apparent.

“Still…” his voice trailed away, “Father is a doctor, he will know what I need. We may have taken a risk last night but we needn’t take any more. Catherine forgive me for I do want to love you, but understand please that we must take precautions in the future.” His eyes grieved her, as hers grieved him, but Catherine nodded nonetheless, pained by his unmistakable sigh of relief that followed.

“Let’s just rest now.” He pulled her into his arms, “It will soon be morning and there is tunnel access in the basement as you know. I’ll go to see Father later about this, and then we can return here to continue our honeymoon. I love you my Catherine.” He whispered, trying to brush away her sadness with tender kisses, “But I cannot allow you to have my child. There are always children below that we could adopt.”

Catherine nodded, trying to sound cheerful as she agreed “Yes.” But even as he kissed her lips, her eyelids, the tip of her nose and held her tightly to his warmth, the thought of never presenting Vincent with a child of his own made Catherine’s heart ache with sorrow.

Catherine shook her head.

“Something I should have done and didn’t?”

A fresh bout of tears caught Catherine’s throat at the irony of that question. So much she wanted to scream "YES!"

Instead she shook her head, she could never hurt him so. He had his principles and his reasons she knew that, but she had wanted his child so much.

“You’re hurt?” Vincent sniffed the air. There was the distinct smell of blood around her.

“No.”

“Yes you are.” He tried to move her, pull her to her feet, “You’re bleeding…somewhere.” He searched her over, touching here and there searching for a wound. “Did you fall?”

“No Vincent!” Her tone of voice startled him. It was sharp, angry, and for some reason, some reason he couldn’t fathom her anger seemed directed at him.

“I’m sorry.” Catherine collapsed against him. “Its not you’re fault.” Her lips uttered the words, even as her heart denied them. ‘Yes it is, its all his fault. Why don’t you just tell him?’

But she couldn’t do that to Vincent, she just couldn’t. “I’m not hurt Vincent. I didn’t fall. You’ve read medical books I know you have…” At her words Vincent’s mind reeled and the vision of her clutching her abdomen earlier returned to him full force. He waited in fearful expectation for her to continue, sighing greatly with relief as he began to understand.

“It’s just a woman thing Vincent. You know the one we women get every month. Nothing to worry about.”

Yet despite his relief Vincent did worry. Why then the tears? Why the rush of excitement these past few days, and now these tears, and this utter despair that raged within her? Vincent was left totally bewildered.

“Come, William has some herbal tea that all the women here below prize for such a time as this. You wait in our chamber and I will fetch some for you.” With his arm around her shoulders he started to lead her back to their quarters when he swung her into his arms instead, loving the feel of her so close against him. The expression in her eyes caught his, and Vincent sighed, “Does it always affect you this way?” It hurt him so much that she suffered so, “Perhaps Father can help?”

“No Vincent…to both your questions. That is William’s herbal tea sounds wonderful.” She finished lamely.

“And as to the other question?” He didn’t know why he wanted to know so much, perhaps because Catherine had deliberately withheld the answer from him.

Catherine bowed her head, burying her face in his sweater, not yet ready to answer that question. Vincent sighed, “You don’t have to tell me anything my love,” he told her, “but I see no reason why you should not. I love you. I want to know everything about you and as well as we know each other there are some things I am only yet learning. Please, my love, don’t shut me out. I want to share everything with you.”

“Oh Vincent.” Catherine nuzzled his neck causing an instantaneous reaction in other parts of his body. After so many years without such intimacies as the right to touch and to kiss, Vincent was yet to control his responses to even the most feather-light touch that Catherine might bestow upon him. By the time he reached their chamber and bestowed her gently upon the bed, he longed to join her there and make love to her.

“How long are you like this?” he bowed his head now, a little embarrassed at needing to know, and knowing that Catherine knew why he needed to know.

“My poor love.” Catherine smiled tenderly, “Three weeks on and one week off. You should spend the time recuperating.” Catherine laughed refraining from telling him that this month was already much different from any she had ever known, more discharge than actual blood. Still no doubt that would come later.

“A week!” Vincent gasped, looking down at himself and then back at his wife, “Look at me now, how am I to get through a week without you?”

A wicked grin spread across Catherine’s face “Perhaps now you will allow me to satisfy you as you once satisfied me before our marriage.” Vincent instantly remembered his hands off attitude in the days before they were married, and he blushed. “Come now Vincent.” Catherine burst into laughter at her choice of words and trying to keep a straight face she whispered seductively, “Put it this way my love, I’m sure you won’t have any complaints.” She looked at him coyly beneath her lashes, enjoying every moment of his obvious discomfort. After all if he hadn’t of insisted on contraception they needn’t be facing this dilemma now. But suddenly Vincent turned the tables upon her, “That rather depends my love…” he watched her boldly now.

“I hasten to ask, but on what?” Catherine whispered enjoying their cat and mouse game delightfully.

Catherine blushed as she realised where he was heading now, it all depended upon her telling him what was on her mind and she shook her head, “No Vincent…its no big deal…I just get moody that’s all…despondent…I’m all right once the bleeding starts.” She hoped he would believe her.

But Vincent didn’t believe her, all those things might be true but she was holding something back. What was it? Then suddenly in an instant he knew!

He stared at her his heart pounding. “You thought you may be pregnant didn’t you?”

Catherine gasped, and tried to deny it. “No.” She laughed half-heartedly, the sound not quite ringing true. “Of course not.”

“Catherine.” Vincent spoke sternly, his tone making Catherine cringe.

They stared at each other, his eyes searching out the depths of hers. She was trying desperately to hide her feelings from him. As if she could! Even if she were able to conceal them with her eyes then their connection would tell him everything that her heart whispered. Catherine hung her head, “Yes.” She whispered.

Had she of expected him to be angry with her she could have accepted it. All those times he had made love to her since that one ‘risk’ that they took, he had rarely thought of the possibility that she might have been carrying his child. But now to know that she had harboured the hope during all that time stunned him to the core. Not only that but he knew that he would have to have a different approach to the matter from now on. For now he had a wife to comfort.
Enfolding her in his arms he rocked her, stroking her hair, saying nothing. In all honesty there was nothing that he could say. Nothing to say that would bring any merit of comfort to her shattered hope.
She wasn’t carrying his child. And right at that moment Vincent wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or not. And that too worried him greatly.

Devin was intrigued. If anything interested him more, it was someone that had suddenly clamed up for no possible reason. He thought back to his latter questions, and finding nothing untoward with them decided to leave the boy alone. “Well it’s been nice talking to you. Thank you for telling me about Zebu.”

Now the boy smiled, “You’re welcome. Would you like to ride one?”

Devin hesitated. “Will it take my weight?”

“Zebu are remarkably strong. Fat ladies ride them.”

Devin laughed, “Well then they must be strong.” The boy laughed too.

“All right, can I take it wherever I want, or do you have to come with me?”

“You implied that you have explored Ouro Preto, I think perhaps you will know your way around. Can you return the cow back here at noon? The children will be ready to come home then, and I can return the cow to my father.”

“Yes, I’m sure three and a half hours in the saddle will be more than enough.” Devin eyed the back of the Zebu with some distaste. If the boy thought he was going to sit on that contraption for the rest of the morning he’d be much mistaken.

The boy laughed, “Its not so bad. But I guess the first time or two will leave you sore. Would you like a tip?”

“Yes.”

“Just lead the Zebu on flat ground and let it carry you uphill. Let it carry your parcels while you shop.”

“Good idea.” Devin told him grinning. “Do I pay you now or when I return.”

The boy smiled, “I think I can trust you. Besides I know where you are staying.”

“You do?”

“Yes, you spoke to my father recently. He had stumbled in the street and you helped him up. My father makes it his business to know where people are staying.”

“That was your father! Small world. So how is he?”

“He’s okay.” Devin detected that a cloud had appeared again disguising the boy’s sunshine smile.

“Is something wrong? Perhaps I can help you?”

The boy shook his head, “Its nothing. Don’t worry. Please enjoy your morning. Now if you will excuse me I have to return the Zebu for the tourists who will be waiting.”

“Yes of course. I’ll see you later then.”

“Yes. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Devin watched the boy go, the herd of Zebu obediently walking to his left and to his right, always that little ahead of him. He walked on foot now, a guiding rod in his hand but rarely using it, and only when he did to guide an animal rather than hit it. For some reason Devin felt immensely sad. Something was wrong in the boy’s life. If only he could find out what. He might be able to help him.
His intention had been to ask more questions of the boy later that day, but when he had returned the Zebu, an older man had come to collect the children, who was reluctant to make conversation. In fact he did not seem to be able to speak anything but Portuguese and Devin’s knowledge of the language was limited.
Sadly he returned the cow and made his way back to his hotel for dinner.

So this day, several days after that encounter with the boy, and the earlier one with his father, Devin sauntered over to where the old man was leading the herd intent on speaking with him.

“Good day.” Devin smiled because for some reason his tone sounded Australian, a country he had spent some time in several years before.

The old man looked up and nodded, recognising Devin at once. Yet his eyes remained guarded and he quickly looked all around him before replying.

“Good morning.”

“How is your son? Nice lad you have there.”

The man seemed to relax before Devin’s eyes. “Yes my son is a fine boy. Do you have a son?”

“Me! No. I’m not even married.”

“That does not mean you can’t have a son.” The man smiled mischievously.

Devin did too “Well then I haven’t a son that I know of.”

“That’s more like it.” The old man laughed. He surprised Devin then by holding out his hand, “Pepe’ De-Vereyard.”

Devin took it, shaking it warmly, “Devin Wells. You have an unusual name.”

“Its Spanish.”

“Oh. Have you always lived here?”

“Yes. My father came here from Spain. I have never been out of Brazil to visit the homeland.”

“Ever wanted to?” They fell into step alongside one another heading for the pasture to graze the Zebu. Devin guessed it must have been the animals’ day off as there was no school on Sundays.

“Sometimes. But I have so much to do here. It is my wish that my son will travel. Much as my life is full here, young people should see the world.”

“I agree. I wanted to travel from a very early age.”

“You have seen much?”

“Oh yes I have seen much.” Devin answered with a wry grin.

“Would you come to dinner at my house. I am sure that my family would like to speak with you about this.”

“Thank you.” Devin was stunned as well as pleasantly surprised, it was the last thing he had expected.

“I’ll show you where I live. Can you come at noon?”

“I know where you live. That first day we met remember?”

The smile vanished on the older man’s face, “Oh yes that. No, please don’t ask me why, but I lied to you. I do not live on that mountain.” His tone of voice was stilted, ashamed yes, but with an underlying fear that Devin detected instantly.

“That’s okay. You didn’t know me then, come to that you don’t know me now. Are you certain you want a complete stranger to come into your house?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time. Many times I invite tourists to my home. In that way we bring the world to us. It is interesting listening to stories of other people’s lives. Their descriptions of the places they live are very vivid. It encourages my children to work and save in order to see those places for themselves.”

“You speak as though Ouro Preto holds nothing for them?” Devin asked.

“That is true.” Pepe’ sounded downhearted suddenly. Again Devin detected that the family were hiding something. Something that hurt. But Pepe’ shook himself, and spoke next with an optimistic tone, “Once Ouro Preto was filled with gold, and then came the jewels, but most of that is gone now. Save for hiring Zebu to tourists there is no future for my children here. They are intelligent children they deserve to go far.”

“I met your son that takes the children to the school in the mornings. What is his name?”

“I have many sons that take that route. How old was he, did he tell you?”

“Yes he said he was twelve.”

“That would be Vincent.”

“Vincent?”

“Yes ,why do you sound so surprised it is a good name. It means warrior.”

“Yes I know. It is my brother’s name.” Devin felt stunned.
Stunned because he had been instantly drawn to the boy, and now to find he had his brother’s name, he felt an instant kinship with the child.

“Come you can see my house from here. It is the one with the gold upon the roof.” Pepe’ did not point and grasped Devin’s hand when Devin went to do so.

“Is that real gold?”

Pepe’ laughed, “Not anymore. Once maybe, but real gold has long been stolen from this town.”

“What’s wrong. Why didn’t you want me to point at it.”

Pepe’ frowned “I shouldn’t be seen speaking with you. You are an American. I know that no one can hear what I am saying. Yet if someone were to assume I was identifying my home to you that would be a cause for concern.”

“I don’t understand, who are you afraid of? And how can I enter your house if you are in fear of someone seeing me do so?”

“There is a secret passage, another way in I will show it to you.” Pepe’ changed direction, “Come.” Devin followed, well aware that Pepe’ had deliberately evaded some of his question, just as his son had done several days before.
What was wrong with these people?
What did they have to hide?
And more importantly who were they so afraid of?

“Oh Cathy, Cathy” Elliot cried for the umpteenth time since he had been thrown into this place. He missed her so much.
Why had life been so cruel? Just when he had believed he had found the woman he would spend his life with she had been snatched away by the men who had been working for him. Not in a literal sense, but just as so, since their actions had killed Catherine’s growing affection for him, thus taking the light from his life.
In much the same way
just once a day now the overhead sun would cast its light into the pit, and for the hour it took to pass by, Elliot could view his grave. The rest of the time the inky black darkness consumed him, and only the small handouts he received daily were keeping him alive.
Had he of been brave enough he would have refused to eat. He would have let himself die, but he did not have the courage, and besides with each passing day he grew more wrathful, ready to avenge his enemies as well as vowing to win back the love of his life.
The dark did that to people. With nothing to do but think, the mind played such tricks. Elliot plotted and planned every last move with a growing sense of perception.

‘If I ever get out of here’ had turned to ‘when I get out of here.’ Thus ensuring a grim determination that Elliot knew he would carry out to the letter.

“How dare they throw me in here. How dare they do this to me!” He paced his grave ranting and raving the movement alone keeping him warm. Keeping his body supple and agile.
With a growing sense of hatred for the man that passed food down daily, Elliot placed this man first on his hit list. “How can he do this to me! How can he continue to care for me and not have it grieve his conscience? The man must be wicked inside. Well I’ll show him wicked!”

And the stench got to him too. Always a clean man well dressed and impeccable it incensed Elliot to be able to smell himself. To know that sweat and grime after two weeks in the pit had reduced him to this! He hated the stench, and he hated the other stench too, the stench of his urine and faeces several feet away.
In the all-consuming darkness Elliot had scrambled his way through the pit that had become his home. He knew it was a mineshaft. Disused for many years now, and he knew that tunnels branched off from it, but he also knew that his daily handouts were his only form of survival and in keeping strong, despite the damage being done to his eyes.
How often he remembered that night in the tunnels beneath New York City when Cathy had led him to safety. How he longed for her to show him the way out now. Down here he had tried to escape. Making sure that he walked in one direction and counted every turn, noting whether it was right or left and noting it would be reversed on his return, Elliot had spent the best part of his first few days down there trying to find a way out. But it had been no use and once he had become frightfully lost, and had only stumbled back to his place by chance, collapsing from sheer exhaustion when he had finally made it.
Now he stayed where he was, walking perhaps twenty or thirty feet daily, and always when the sun passed over head, giving him that hour, that one precious hour of sunlight in his otherwise darkened grave.
What was worse though was why? Why had they done this to him? And why had no one been looking for him? His office, his secretary knew that he was in Brazil on business, but he should have returned by now.
The dumbest thing he had done before this whole ghastly nightmare had begun was to call Cathy and say he couldn’t make the wedding after all. That wasn’t strictly true. It was just that he couldn’t bear to see her marry Vincent. Not when he still loved her so much and he would always love her that he knew with all of his heart.
How he berated himself on his stupidity. Catherine was very thorough with her job, and when he had not turned up at her wedding, and when he had not called or had not returned after all this time, she would have come looking for him. Why? Because despite what she told him repeatedly, she still cared for him deeply, it was just that she lied to herself when she denied this. But he didn’t know this was going to happen, and he couldn’t watch her marry another guy and so he had rang and begged her forgiveness and smothered her with apologies and made up some story about a problem with his workforce refusing to work on sacred land.
Huh! He laughed bitterly, what irony! Though the story was fabricated it had turned out nearer to the truth than he could surmise. For something had triggered his being taken captive that day, and if it wasn’t because of sacred land he’d like to know what.
How many times had he gone over it in his mind? His brain ached with the amount of times, yet still day by day he pieced it together, over and over searching for some hidden clue that he may have overlooked. Not that knowing it could save him now, but it would make him feel a whole lot better.
It had been simple nothing untoward. He’d signed the contract, paid the cheque and employed his workforce. Everything was set for construction to begin when out of the blue the men had put down tools and gone home.
Elliot could remember being mystified and downright annoyed. Had he not paid them enough? Did they think he expected too much of them? So he had not given them the high wages of US workers, but this was Brazil godammit surely they would be happy with a pittance?
He’d increased their wages, just a little, and a few men had returned to work, but after a few hours they fizzled out until there were none left again. Elliot had decided they wanted to make him pay more, and once again he had met with them in the square, spoken to them and offered them good money.
They had been encouraged, he could see that, many had wanted to snatch up the offer, but something, or someone had held them back. He could remember that day well.

“What’s the matter, surely that is enough for you?”

Some of the men had nodded, there were a few mumbles of “Its good money.”

“Then why don’t you come and earn it?” Elliot had grown exasperated with them. They had turned then in one fluid movement, walking away from him!

“Wait!”

The men had stopped in their tracks but did not turn around.

“What does it take for me to get you to work?”

They’d shrugged and had started on their way again. Elliot did not understand it. “Then I’ll build the goddamned thing myself, you see if I don’t.” Furious he shouted after them, knowing that even if it took longer to organise he would fly his specialised team out from New York. But for now, he’d start moving the soil with his own bear hands if he had to.
The men watched him, idly from afar, some impressed that he attempted to carry out his promise, others amused by his actions.
And he had worked hard if only to show them what could be achieved by one man alone.

“Tonight” he had fumed as he dug furiously and moved rocks with his own bare hands, “Tonight I will call my team in New York, and tomorrow they will come, and they will show these people what work is!”
But for Elliot tomorrow never came, neither for that matter did tonight. For while he worked, back bent his intent upon the work at hand, firm hands grasped him around his chest and a grimy sack was placed over his head. Stunned, he left it a split second too late to fight against his captors, and they had carted him off from the site and on to the back of a truck. There several pairs of hands had held him, hollering though he was, and he had felt rising panic at not being able to see them, or know why they were doing this to him.
Had he been digging on sacred land after all? That thought had winged its way through his brain at that time, as it did even now, for the umpteenth time. Was that why the men had refused so blatantly to work there?
If so were they taking him to the airport? Did they want his removal so badly? But he’d signed the contract paid the cheque - the land was his. And there had been no mention of sacred land when his surveyors had reported back to him.
It just didn’t weigh up.
The journey by truck wasn’t far, but it was bumpy and it was frightening. Having a sack over his head stifled him. The day was hot and the sweat from his brow through his labours on site was sticking to the inside of the sack and Elliot could feel feathers and particles of dust getting into his eyes and mouth. He ceased his shouting, regulated his breathing, listening instead to whatever snippets of conversation he could understand around him. But no one gave anything away.
And then the truck came to a halt, and he felt something heavy tied around his waist, and then he was forced to his knees and onto his side, and literally pushed into a huge hole. “Bon Voyage Mr Burch” someone had shouted, amid shouts of ‘Adios’ from other men, and fear had galloped straight through Elliot as he felt himself falling though suspended from above. He’d drop ten feet or so, falling and coming to a sudden halt that winded him, only to hang suspended and then dropped another ten feet, and so on until his feet finally touched terra-firma. Here the rope was thrown in with him, and he was able to remove the sack from his face.
That was no use, down in the inky darkness he could still see nothing, and above was obscured by many faces peering into the darkness. “You down yet Mr Burch?” They’d laughed wickedly.

“Let me out of here, I demand that you let me out of here.” He had yelled up at them.

“Demand all you like Mr Burch, but you will never be free again.”

The men had moved away then. Elliot had listened to their words quietly receding until complete silence engulfed him, silence so quiet that he thought his ears would burst.

And so it had remained, and even though he had long grown used to the silence, Elliot knew he would never get used to the darkness. It consumed him, sending him to the point of madness, turning him into a very dangerous man.