Chapter 26
Later...
"Miss Moreau," said Cross, polishing his glasses. "You are a member of the San Francisco Legacy House... and have served... under Dr. Rayne... for some nine years, I believe."
Alex nervously tucked a stray, curly strand of dark hair up into the red plaid beret she wore. "That's correct," she stated.
"So... you're well placed to establish for us certain events in the recent past...."
"Possibly," the witness replied.
"Hasn't Dr. Rayne... despite the express directives of the Ruling Council... used his psychic abilities to channel spirits... opening himself to potentially dangerous entities... deliberately putting himself... and, thus, the Legacy... at risk?"
Alex shifted in the hard, wooden chair. "He's tried to help trapped, troubled spirits to move on.... Yes.... It is sometimes a solution to a difficult situation. The spirits needed as much help as the living... at the time.... His abilities permit him to do it... and I think he regards it as part of the job description."
"Indeed... perhaps that's the problem," Cross commented. "Perhaps in willingly opening himself he has made himself more vulnerable." The Chief Investigator picked up a journal, glanced quickly at Alex, then back to the pages. "In March 1997... in Rose County... did Dr. Rayne attempt suicide?... Did he shoot himself in the chest... in front of you and Nick Boyle?"
Alex frowned and looked down to toy with her bracelet, Derek's gift. "Yes... but... it was an accident," she quickly added. "He did it to save us.... It wasn't the act of a madman.... It was an act of self-sacrifice," she insisted. "He'd been investigating a series of suicides, but was himself possessed by the demon... and was sent to kill us.... He turned his gun on himself to protect us... but it went off by accident when Nick pushed him."
"But you admit he was possessed by a demon."
Alex nodded.
"And Mr. Sloan was there... at the hospital... to clean up Dr. Rayne's mess?" Cross laid special emphasis on the word "mess". "Weren't you surprised that a man, supposedly in London, should be first at his bedside?"
"Maybe a little... but I wouldn't say he was there 'to clean up a mess'," Alex objected. "Mr. Sloan was Ruling Precept... of course, he was concerned.... One of his precepts... a friend... was fighting for his life. As for how he got there first... I have no idea. Perhaps, he was already in the area.... Perhaps, he was assisting Derek... Dr. Rayne... with the investigation... or vice versa. You'll have to ask him. He's sitting right over there."
"Thank you, Miss Moreau," Cross replied, "but as you know, protocol prohibits testimony by an advocate. How convenient!... If we can continue, please...."
Alex's jaw tightened in frustration. "I wasn't aware, Mr. Cross. You seem to be giving quite a lot of testimony yourself."
"I'll overlook that, Miss Moreau," Loxley Millard interrupted. "Please, confine your statements to answering the questions."
Alex saw Cross cast a supercilious smile in her direction. "Bastards!" she murmured.
"And did Dr. Rayne... and a so-called friend... an antique dealer of dubious integrity by the name of...." Cross paused to consult his papers. "...of Milo Javitz... wilfully destroy a priceless collection of antiques, bequeathed to the Luna Foundation?"
Alex smiled at the memory of that roguish pair. "Well, yes...."
"Sir James," Sloan interrupted. "I cannot see how this pertains to the Legacy. Those items were bequeathed to the Luna Foundation... not to the Legacy. The late Mrs. Keane knew nothing of the Legacy. Therefore, the fate of this collection is irrelevant."
"Sit down, Mr. Sloan.... You'll have your turn at rebuttal... later." Loxley Millard followed his retort with a bang of his gavel. "Continue, Miss Moreau."
"It wasn't really Derek... or Milo. The spirits of two brothers, imprisoned in a special jug, were set free. They used him and Milo...."
"Dr. Rayne was possessed by this man's spirit?" Cross pounced.
"In a manner of speaking...," Alex conceded. "Derek and Milo were unconscious, while the Kulhane brothers replicated their appearances."
"I see...," the Scotsman said quietly. He gazed at the unimpressed expressions around the table and realized that perhaps this had not been the best case to use.... Dopplegangers were not precisely to the point. He continued on, "Did you witness Dr. Rayne's bizarre behavior when he became sexually obsessed with Jessica Lansy... the fiancée of a man who had once been his best friend."
Alex responded sharply, "One... Samuel Kellig was dead.... Two...Jessica had been possessed by the Lamia... an ancient snake demon. She was using supernatural powers to seduce Derek."
"I see," the Chief Investigator repeated, this time more eagerly. "Thank you for the clarification.... And in August 1997, did Dr. Rayne attempt to use the sepulchres to release the Darkside into our world?"
"It wasn't Derek," Alex answered. She gazed down at her bracelet. "It was his body, but not him.... He was possessed... by a demon... who masqueraded as his father, Winston Rayne."
"Quite so... or it was Winston Rayne.... In any case, yet another instance of demonic possession. Of late... shall we say in the past five years, Derek Rayne has seemed uncommonly susceptible to such possession.... I wonder... how certain are we that such possessions did not leave something behind... something that would bide its time?... However, I will return to that later.... One thing is certain.... His will... his strength of character... seems increasingly fragile... and malleable."
"No!" Alex protested. "Derek... weak willed? Like hell!" She saw the ghost of a smile flit across Clare Spencer's lips. How could she be a part of this? How could she do this to a man whom she had once loved? Alex looked down to conceal a trembling lip. Clare had once been a part of Derek's life in a way that she would now never be... would never have a chance to be. It was a bitter pill... a desolate thought... a lost dream.
"Mr. Cross!" Sloan angrily rose from the table and strode around the end to enter the open horseshoe. "Life as a precept... a 'real' precept... not one who's scaled the 'greasy pole' by climbing on other men's shoulders... is dangerous work. The battle with the Darkside presents a constant risk... and we dealt with the problem," Sloan concluded. He glanced around the table, meeting eyes with a hard, knowing gaze, to be sure that all the tribunal members remembered his own role in that nightmare.
"As you say, sir," Cross replied, smoothly. "...And once again... Mr. Sloan is present during the possession... to pull Dr. Rayne's fat from the fire. By the by... Miss Moreau, were you a witness Mr. Sloan's noble sacrifice?"
"Uhmm... no... I'd been hurt.... I was... unconscious." A puzzled look crossed Alex's face as she met Sloan's eyes. In a very Derek-like gesture, he merely returned the question with a shrug and a raise of the eyebrow.
Sloan once more spoke up. "Mr. Cross!..."
"Mr. Sloan," Loxley Millard began, "as I've stated before, and as a member of your long experience should well know, you'll have an opportunity to present your case once Mr. Cross has finished.... Until then... please do not interrupt... or I shall replace you as Dr. Rayne's advocate."
Sloan glowered at the old man, but remained silent and returned to his seat.
"Let's move on... shall we?..." said Cross. "To the time Dr. Rayne was gravely ill... in a coma for some eight months.... I believe he claimed that he was somehow transported to another world... another reality... one in which I had been murdered and my identity usurped by a ghost!" he scoffed. "Perhaps a case of precognitive wishful thinking."
A frown crossed Alex's dark face as the flash of a memory of those terrible times overlay the image of yesterday's heartbreak. Alex bit the inside of her lip, but nodded. "Derek's spirit... his soul, if you like... traveled to a parallel universe to help 'another' Derek Rayne fight the Darkside... to save his world from the threat posed by the Portal beneath that 'other' Angel Island."
A smirk played on Cross' face. "Ah... I see... a 'parallel universe'... a very interesting theory... and another case of possession... even if this time Dr. Rayne appears to have willingly submitted."
"I see where you're going," Alex blurted out. "And frankly... it stinks. I wouldn't call slipping into a coma 'submitting'.... Besides, Derek is a psychic.... Not only is he clairvoyant... he has very strong empathy. Isn't it people like him... like us... that the Legacy recruits? Isn't it inevitable that sometimes those abilities will be turned against us? Derek always said, 'The "Sight" is a slippery thing.' Yet, he's always won... in the end."
The Scotsman gazed down to straighten the gold watch chain that lay across his pinstriped vest. "Has he won?... I wonder?" he speculated, then looked up at his witness. "Even in a cursory examination of recent cases... Miss Moreau... it is obvious to all... all, but the most partial... that Dr. Rayne's health... both mental and physical... has been in decline for the past few years. Can you honestly say he's the same man you knew when you joined the Legacy?"
"No... of course, he isn't... nor am I the same woman.... With Derek's help and guidance... I've... we've... all grown. We've all become more than we were."
"Really?" The Chief Investigator's eyebrows rose in skepticism. "...and Julia Walker... Kristin Adams... Philip Callaghan.... What became of them during Dr. Rayne's tutelage?... Have they become more?.... I think not.... Two are dead and one has been lost to us!"
"That's not fair!" Alex's knuckles whitened as she gripped the arm of her chair. "Derek was in a coma... in San Francisco... when Kristin was killed... in Boston!... Philip Callaghan... a priest... chose to return to pastoral duties in a regular parish.... That had always been his true vocation."
"Really, Miss Moreau?.... We do have Fr. Callaghan's Legacy Journals. They provide interesting... not always flattering... insights into Dr. Rayne's character and motives." Cross turned to the Council. "I shall offer photocopies of the pertinent entries as evidence.
"Now, Miss Moreau," he said, turning back to the young woman. "I would like to turn to this latest... in a long series of disasters... Dr. Rayne's involvement with Carlton West. You were there to witness first-hand the results of his foolish actions in that debacle... not only his own suffering... and yours... but two innocents...." Cross glanced down at his papers once more. "Trevor Watson and Police Officer Jasmine Williams. One butchered and dead... and the other... tragically... butchered, but still living."
"Derek stopped a monster." The anger rose in Alex's voice. "West was the embodiment of evil... an evil that was freed by Legacy actions... over one hundred and fifty years ago. If not for Derek, God knows how many others would have been 'butchered'!"
"And if Dr. Rayne had conducted a proper investigation... rather than give way to his egotistical obsessions.... If he had involved members of his House... rather than a traitor to this organisation... would not West have been stopped... without the loss of innocent lives? Answer me that, Miss Moreau!"
"I... I... I don't know... maybe.... Derek did what he thought was right... at that moment.... He took advantage of a situation that presented itself.... Surely, when it comes down to it, that's all any of us can do."
"Pardon me, Mr. Cross," Fr. Thomas interrupted. "But Dr. Rayne might not have pursued that particular course of action, had I, in my capacity as the Legacy's profiler and authority on serial killers and such... had I not given him faulty advice and underestimated the situation. Therefore, fling some of your blame my way."
The Scotsman cast an icy, disdainful gaze in the old man's direction. "Indeed, Father," he thoughtfully countered. "However, your advice ought to have been only one of Dr. Rayne's considerations. He was there, you were not. If his judgement is impared... damaged... by years of obsession... risk taking... intimate contact with unknown 'entities'... how can we trust his opinion of what is
the right thing to do?"One final thing... Miss Moreau," he said, turning back to Alex. "You speak highly of Dr. Rayne's training.... How he's built a team of which the Legacy may be proud. Can you tell me who gave you permission to leave your House to come over here? You were here prior to your subpoena to appear before this tribunal."
"No one...," she said defiantly. "I had to come to tell Derek that Nick is missing in action.... He had to know.... It's his right to know."
"So... in a time of world crisis... you left your House... already overworked and shorthanded... as a result of Dr Rayne's actions.... You, the senior member of that House, left only Dr. Corrigan on duty... to take a jaunt over to here... to England... to speak to a man who would not understand a single word you are telling him.... Hmmm... what a fine, loyal member of the Legacy you are, Miss Moreau. We can all see where those loyalties lie."
"You may step down now, Miss Moreau," Loxley Millard said coldly. "Mr. Sloan will have an opportunity to call you... should he so wish... for further testimony. In the meantime, I suggest that you avail yourself of the opportunity to make your flight arrangements back to San Francisco. Please, do not leave the building. You may go.... But... be forewarned that your actions will be reviewed by this Council for possible dereliction of duty."
Her face flushed with anger and humiliation, Alex shoved herself to her feet. As she skirted the
end of the table, she paused, then turned back to fire a parting volley. "Excuse me," she said
loudly. Her dark eyes flared; her voice quivered. "I'm not done with my testimony.... Derek Rayne
has given his life... he's given all he has... as a human being... to the Legacy and its fight. He
believes in the Legacy... and in all of you.... Why?... I have no idea... unless it's because he's more
of a man than anybody in this room.... Ask your Ruling Precept." Alex cast a scornful glance in
Clare Spencer's direction. "All this is... is a tawdry money grab... pure greed... and it makes me
ashamed to be a part of this organization. If the Legacy is all that stands between mankind and the
forces of Darkness, then God help mankind," she spat. With that she turned and stalked towards
the door; her heels, pounding the parquet floor, split the silence she left behind.
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