Chapter 23
Hospital of St. Michael and St. George...
Fr. Thomas reached into his pants pocket; his cellphone was vibrating relentlessly. "Damned things are the work of the Devil," he muttered as he opened it, then slipped on his glasses. Carefully pressing what he hoped were the right buttons, he saw that he had a message telling him to call VDF. The old man puzzled for a moment or two... of course, "Vicomte de Foix," he murmured. He gave a small chuckle.... The dry as dust historian seemed to have no problems coping with modern technology.
"Justin?" the priest asked hopefully, not certain he had correctly worked his way through the tiny phone's menu.
"Yes, Joseph.... How's our friend?... Any change?" came the distant, broken voice.
"No... I'm afraid not," the priest replied, walking down the dreary corridor towards the garden cloister. Perhaps, the signal would be better there. "It's really heartbreaking to see him like this," he said as he stepped into the chilled air. "His mind... gone... but his body functioning... at the will of others.
"Justin... I know that, as a priest, I should never give up hope. Yet the reality of my career... as a psychologist... as an investigator... as an exorcist, has been nothing but slaughter... mayhem... insanity... and possession."
He heard a heavy sigh from the other man, then the reedy voice, with its faint underpinning of France's southern drawl. "The Ruling Council knows that Miss Moreau is there, Joseph.... They're issuing orders that she make herself available for questioning at tomorrow's tribunal."
"How could they know?" Fr. Thomas was shocked; his words quivered with it. "She only arrived here an hour or so ago. I'm beginning to wonder just how loyal Carter is.... Ian swears by him, of course."
"Ian's a good judge.... He's got a sense about his men," the vicomte replied, "... and I don't think Ian would place any but his absolute best and most trusted with Derek.
"Ecoute, mon ami
. Cross has subpoenaed Ian to appear tomorrow as well... not that the Legacy has any jurisdiction over him any longer.... He's our man. But I've told him to appear.... I think his testimony can be slanted... with the right questions... to paint a less bleak picture.""I hope you're right... because... right now... I don't see any light at all." The priest's despondency was palpable. "I'll come up with Miss Moreau tonight. I'll see you then."
"Don't give up, Joseph. We have to preserve the balance.... We'll think of something... somehow... even if someone of the Circle must step from the shadows. I'll see you tomorrow." The phone then went dead.
< < + > >
Derek's room...
"Derek... I've got something to tell you... about Nick," Alex said gently. "It's not good.... His reserve unit was called up.... We heard nothing for weeks.... Then a Navy Chaplain and another officer came to the House to tell us he's MIA... missing in action."
She paused, searching the precept's face for any sign that he'd heard... or understood... what she had just said. "We tried to find out what we could, but all they'd tell us was that he's missing. Nothing else.... I think we can guess that it was some sort of mission involving Nine-Eleven... but where?... In Afghanistan?... Or some other place in the world where they found Al-Quaida connections... the Philippines, maybe?... or Chechnya... or the Sudan?... They've slapped a 'top secret' on it... and we don't count." Sniffing, she swiped at a single tear that had escaped.
"Derek...." She took her friend's large hand and saw the wide, pink scars that still circled his wrists. Would he wear West's manacles forever? She looked up and pushed his pajama collar aside. There, too, encircling his neck, was the wide, pink mark of that abomination, the iron mask. She saw the hazel eyes drift downward. They seemed to focus momentarily on their entwined fingers. Alex leaned over to try to connect with the uncomprehending gaze, but the eyes turned back once more to the window. She reached up to turn his face back towards her, but the blankly, staring eyes remained fixed on the grey garden beyond the glass.
"Please... hear me...," she begged. "Try hard.... I need you.... Nick needs you.... I still don't know how you feel about me, but I know how much Nick means to you.... Come back to us."
The passive face continued to stare vacantly towards the window. "Derek... please." She fought back tears. This was worse than the coma... back then, she could shut out the sounds of the machines and, until he'd faded away to almost nothing, she could pretend he was sleeping.... But this... she pondered. He's like a puppet... He moves when somebody else pulls the strings.
"Derek...." She brushed his pale, stubbled cheek with her thumb. "What is it?... Are you afraid?... Surely you're not ashamed?... Do you think you can't go on?... That it's all over?... Are you hiding?"
She squeezed his hand tightly. "Feel me," she pled. "I'm not afraid. I'll be here for you.... I'll help you in any way I can.... I'd do anything for you.... You must know that.... You've always been my strength, my protector.... Let me be yours."
Alex studied the vacant, unknowing face, and saw not a hint of recognition nor curiosity. "I know you're in there... somewhere.... Fight, Derek... fight!" she begged. "Derek Rayne never gives up.... Come back to us."
As she released his hand and hung her head in despair, a gleam of gold twinkled at the edge of her vision. Reaching up, she undid the ribbon around her neck and let the ring to drop into her hand. She studied the blue and gold signet for a moment... traced the blue oval and the Old English "L" that rested atop it. Everything she loved... and hated... was represented in that simple gold band. Again she took Derek's hand and pushed the ring onto his finger.
"There... you've got that damned thing back. It's everything you care about.... Sometimes, I think that's all you've ever cared about." Alex fought to steady her voice. "You'll have to come back."
She heard a gentle tap at the door. Fr. Thomas entered and looked quizzically at the young woman... and at the passive figure on the bed.
Alex read his unspoken question and, struggling to control her tears, shook her head in desolation. "It's like I'm a piece of the furniture... or he is... I can't get anything from him... nothing at all."
The priest nodded, regretting his decision to allow Alex into the room. "I'm sorry, my child.... I should have protected your illusion. I shouldn't have allowed you in... but I thought... maybe....
"Somehow the Ruling Council's found out that you're here.... They're demanding that you appear before them tomorrow... to give testimony at this damned tribunal." He momentarily studied her face. "You're exhausted.... I should've thought.... The local pub serves decent food.... It's just down the road in Wyre Piddle.... You go have some lunch.... I'll join you there... in a bit.... We can drive up to London together."
Alex gave an imperceptible nod. Fighting through the desolation, she turned back to the figure in the bed. "Bye, Derek." She rose, kissed the cool forehead, smoothed the grey curl, and whispered, "I'll always love you... whatever happens.... Remember that...."
< < + > >
Gazing over his shoulder as he slipped into the room, Carter watched the young, black woman. With her head bowed, her shoulders hunched in misery, she hurried out through the ward. He then turned to see the priest settle himself wearily into the rigid chair. The orderly stepped to the side of the door, silently closed it, and stood patiently waiting.
"Dammit!... Derek!" the old man growled. "How can you put your friends through this?... I've loved you... like a son... but... my boy... at the moment, I'm wondering if I ever knew you." He took a deep breath, then sighed with absolute weariness and total frustration. "The Derek Rayne I knew wouldn't take the easy way.... He wouldn't leave the fight to those not up to it.
"You've got to come back.... Got to!... Nick's missing... perhaps dead.... Willem's gone," he said, rapidly crossing himself at the mention of each name. "Loxley Millard's called a tribunal.... They mean to lock you in here for good.... William's going to try to defend you, but he's not got a leg to stand on.... Listen to me.... You'll never escape this place.... Luna's totally exposed... vulnerable.... Those damned idiots on the Council can't wait to get their greedy hands on it... and they don't begin to understand what they're doing. If the Beast waits, they'll destroy the Legacy for him... and Luna will already be gone." He breathed a sigh that neared a sob, then continued. "And this war... though it's different... more deceptive than my war... than your father's war... it's still a war... and all too real... as is the evil."
Carter was surprised at the anger in the old cleric's voice, but he had lost too many good men... friends... not to understand that this was rage born of despair. He watched the priest massage his temples with arthritic fingers and saw the exhaustion, the desolation. The old man was fighting cancer. Had he taken on one battle too many, the former soldier wondered. He listened as the dry, hoarse voice began to plead his case once more.
"Derek.... You're HIV free... The last test came back clear.... All things considered... a miracle.... God's on your side.... You're still a Legacy Precept.... You still hold your place in the Circle.... Derek... your House has no one leading it.... Would you place this burden on Alex or Rachel?... Do you think they're up to it... at a time like this?... I don't.... Nick wasn't.... I don't think Sloan would be... or me. Dammit!... Even at your best, I'm not sure you would be either, but it's your job... and you're the best man for it.
"Derek.... Listen to me.... All could be lost.... Everything that you've worked for all your life.... Everything we've all worked for... for over a thousand years. Your House... Luna.... If Luna's lost... then what happens to the Legacy?... The madmen are running the asylum.... You must come back.... Please!... Everything depends on you.... We'll all stand or fall... by your actions."
"Father?... Sorry...," said Carter, gently announcing his presence. His patient had heard enough... no matter how justified the priest's despairing petition might be. He was not surprised when Fr. Thomas looked up, startled. The old man had been so intent upon his mission, that he had been oblivious to the audience. Carter stepped forward to pick up his patient's limp wrist. "I didn't mean to intrude, but...."
"No," Joseph interrupted, "you have a job to do... and it's to look after him. I'm the one who's sorry," he explained, rising to face the orderly. "I'm afraid, you see... and fear drives you to do... to say things.... Bless you, Carter.... Take good care of him... whilst we're away."
"I will," the former sergeant assured the priest. "Father... the young lady... Miss Moreau... must've left this ring on his finger." Carter pulled the circle of blue and gold from the precept's right hand. "It's not safe.... Will you take care of it for him?"
"That's exactly what I'm trying to do," Joseph replied, plainly, wearily.
The orderly stared at the old man, bewildered. Jesus!... These guys are a weird lot, he decided.... They make the SAS look sane. He placed the signet in the priest's hand, then watched as he looped his rosary beads through the ring.
"Would you hang these on the cross, please?... I think it'll be safe there.... I want it close to him."
"Sure...," Carter replied, perplexed. Stepping up on the chair to reach for the rose cross high on the wall, he took his time to give the old man a moment to lean over the bed, trace the sign of the cross on Derek's forehead, then kiss the spot. He heard a soft prayer murmured, then saw the priest cross himself.
"Good-bye, my boy," Joseph said. "Deus est vobiscum.... Never doubt that....
He will always be with you... and all this... human frailty... the pain, the anguish... will
pass, but He will never pass."
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