See Part One For Disclaimers

Chapter Four

It was ridiculously easy, even easier than Douglas had anticipated.  He had waited until the second day before calling Boyle at the Legacy House.  By now, he was sure the Legacy hierarchy knew of his disappearance, even if they didn't know the reason.  That was both good and bad.  But he had to take the first step.   He could only pray Val still remembered her mother's death, and the aftermath, when she was dealing with Sir Edmund Tremain.  She didn't remember . . . the other time.

As luck would have it, most of the San Francisco House knew only that Douglas had disappeared.  They knew nothing of Sir Edmund's interviews with Vancouver House, if those interviews had indeed taken place.  This, Douglas learned while he was waiting for Boyle to come to the phone.  Jane Witherspoon was in San Francisco for a meeting with Derek Rayne, and she had answered the phone.

It was to Jane that he told the first lie.  He told her that he had gone rogue from Vancouver House to track down his daughter's killer.  The Legacy had tried to tie his hands to prevent further deaths at the red hands of the killer, and Jane had completely bought into the story.  Douglas knew he had his own fierce protectiveness of his daughters to thank for that.  After the death of his wife, and after Tremain had refused to believe Valerie, Douglas had refused to allow Tremain, or another Legacy precept, access to any of his children.

Then, Boyle was on the phone, and it was too easy.  Douglas had already chosen his tack, even before he had made the call.  But Jane's sympathy and compassion for his 'loss,' had served to convince him. Douglas said harshly, "I have a proposition for you, Jonny boy.  I've been told we're on the trail of the same killer."

"I'm listening," the other man said, then added curiously, "And what the hell did you say to Jane?  When she gave me the phone, she was in tears."  Douglas smiled coldly.  Oh, this was getting better all the time!  While he had initially cursed the fate which had led Jane Witherspoon to answer the telephone, now it was turning into a blessing.

"Because I've already told her what I'm about to tell you, asshole.  That thing you've been after . . . I'm after it, too.  It killed my little girl, my Valerie.  You do remember Valerie, don't you, Jonny boy?  The sweet girl you tried to kill, then called a liar four years ago?  She's dead, Jonny boy.  I'm sure you're real happy about that," Douglas rasped.  To his surprise, lying about his daughter's death wasn't as hard as he thought.

There was a moment of silence, then Jonathan Boyle said slowly, "I'm sorry, Barton.  I never had anything against your daughter . . . she just got in the way . . ."  He never had a chance to say anything, because Douglas burst into harsh, staccato laughter.  Any lingering doubts or regrets for this action were quickly dying.

"Just got in the way, did she?  Well, what the fuck did you expect, asshole?  You were trying to kill her mother.  Oh, that's right, how silly of me to forget!  Her mother was a witch, she automatically deserved to die.  I guess since my daughter was the child of a witch, she also deserved to die, hmm?  Now listen up, asshole, and don't interrupt.  I've been on the trail of this thing ever since it killed my little girl.  I'm offering you a chance to atone for what you did," Douglas told the other man.

He heard Boyle starting to splutter, and Douglas went on, "You know, I don't know about you, but I was raised to believe that real men took responsibility for their actions.  Tried to find a way to make things right.  I'm offering that chance to you . . . assuming, of course, that you're a real man.  Personally, I have doubts about that.  I know about you, Boyle.  You're an abuser.  You beat up your wife and your kid.  Oh, yes, I know all about you.  And that idiot Derek Rayne may have bought into your Father Knows Best routine, but I'm smarter than he is."

There was a long silence, then Boyle asked, "When and where?"  Douglas controlled his desire to laugh . . . he knew Boyle wouldn't be able to resist the challenge to his manhood.  His kind never could.  The trouble was, at least for Boyle, was that he was too stupid to know that in this kind of pissing contest, he would lose.

The former precept was well aware that he was in a dangerous game, that his own arrogance could get him killed.  But he was willing to take that chance.  The truth was, in the four years since his wife's death, he had been finding it harder and harder to go on living.  If Cranshaw did kill him, at least Douglas had taken out Boyle.

Douglas answered, remembering the house where he had met Cranshaw, "There's a house on a stretch of highway . . ."  He gave the other man directions, then added, "Oh, by the way.  Don't get any ideas about telling Derek Rayne.  That stupid kid would probably screw things up.  Come alone."  And then he hung up.  Time to wait.

*    *    *

At the time of their conversation, Jane Witherspoon had thought little about Douglas Barton's story.  She had known Deirdre Barton, had grieved when she learned of the woman's death, and grieved for the three girls.  And for Douglas to lose one of his daughters, only a few years after losing his wife . . . Jane had only been surprised that he hadn't died from grief alone.  It never occurred to her to mention her conversation with the rogue Legacy member to Derek Rayne until the following day.

She was in the control room with Derek, as they mapped out the hauntings in a five mile area, when the young precept asked absently, "Do you know where Jonathan is, Jane?  He was supposed to be here, since this is his other major case."  Jane frowned . . . she hadn't seen him all day, and it never really occurred to her to go looking for him.  There was something about him she didn't trust.

Perhaps it was his affinity for alcohol, perhaps it was the way he spoke of his wife . . . that contempt for her weakness.  Jane Witherspoon didn't know Jonathan Boyle's wife, but she doubted if the woman was weak.  It was a mistake men often made . . . confusing true strength with brute force.  She didn't know how right she was.

"No . . . no, I haven't seen him since yesterday, when Douglas Barton called.  Poor man.  As if losing his wife wasn't bad enough, losing his daughter as well?" Jane asked, shaking her head and returning her whole-hearted attention to the map.  She was vaguely aware of Derek straightening at her side, frowning at her.  Jane, like most of the Legacy, didn't know about the exact circumstances of Deirdre Barton's death.  If she had . . . well, things could have been very different.

"Douglas Barton?  You spoke with him?" he asked.  Jane glanced at him from the corner of her eye.  He was only thirty-two years old, but there were times when she could have sworn he was much older.  Perhaps it was watching his father die in a Peruvian cave when he was a teenager, only slightly older than what Justin's daughter Kristen was now.

"Yes, yesterday . . . he called, asking to speak with Jonathan.  It seems that Douglas went rogue after the creature which Jonathan has been tracking killed his middle daughter . . . Valerie.  The Ruling House forced him to stop his investigation, for fear of losing more people," Jane answered, still focusing her attention on the map.

"Oh, Gott . . . no," Derek murmured.  He was silent, then said, "Jane.  Are you sure he said Valerie was killed?"  Jane did look away from the map and nodded.  Derek continued, his voice rising and his accent thickening as it always did when he was agitated, "Then Jonathan is heading into a trap.  I spoke with Sir Edmund this morning . . . Valerie has been caring for her small sister Kerry ever since Barton's disappearance."

Valerie was alive?  Douglas had lied to her about his daughter's death?  He was so protective of his children, why would he say something like that?  And . . .   Jane gasped, "But why?  Why would Douglas say something like that, why would he want to lead Jonathan into a trap?"  The young precept began pacing, and Jane was horrified to see his obvious fear.  She had known Derek for many years, and she had never seen him this frightened, by anything.

"I thought it would pass, that it was just the heat of the moment talking.  But Douglas Barton holds Jonathan responsible for his wife Deirdre's death.  And Valerie . . . Valerie swears that she was there when it happened.  Jonathan swears that the child lied, for reasons of her own.  I have no reason not to believe him," Derek answered.

He was silent for several moments, then said, "Come!  We must stop Jonathan!"  Jane followed him from the control room, as he headed to the car.  She paused long enough to leave a note for the others.  But she knew Valerie Barton.  All children lied from time to time, but Valerie was an essentially honest young girl.  If she swore that she had been there when her mother was killed, and that Jonathan Boyle was responsible for her death . . . then maybe, he was.

*    *    *

They said revenge was a dish best served cold.  After waiting four years for this day, Douglas Barton could not have agreed more.  It had been agreed that he would allow Cranshaw the pleasure of killing Jonathan Boyle . . . but he would be allowed to watch.  And perhaps even speak, of the spirit so moved him.

It did move him.  As he watched from his hidden corner, he smiled with cold anticipation as Cranshaw knocked Boyle across the room, beating him mercilessly.  The smile died as the images once more flashed through his brain.  Deirdre, lying cold and dead on the morgue table.  Valerie, in her hospital room, trembling with terror as Boyle loomed over her.  Ohhhh . . . yes.  The spirit would move him.

"Finish it," Boyle rasped, arm pressed against his gut, "just finish it!  But the Legacy will come after you . . . it doesn't take well to its members being killed."  Cranshaw just back-handed him, and it was then that Douglas stepped out of the shadows.  Boyle didn't see him at first, which was how Douglas wanted it.  There had been a time when he studied drama, and the former Legacy precept knew as well as anyone the importance of a well-timed entrance.

"Oh, I'm sure the Legacy will seek out your killer, Jonny boy.  But they won't find him," Douglas said, and the man's eyes widened with shock.  Douglas laughed aloud, saying, "You should see your face, Jonny boy.  The shock.  The terror.  I've been waiting for four years for this.  Four years since you destroyed my life, and almost killed my children."

"Derek will come after you . . . you know the rules!" Boyle rasped and again, Douglas laughed.  The bravado was quickly fading from the eyes of the other man, and Boyle said desperately, "Think of your daughters . . . what about my family!  What do you think the Legacy will do to your daughters, the daughters of a known witch?"

"In the first place, assuming Derek Rayne comes after me, that's fine and dandy.  I hope he does.  I plan on going after him anyhow, since he sheltered a murderer.  In the second place, my daughters know nothing of this.  What, do you really think I'm stupid enough to tell my sixteen year old daughter 'I'm going to San Francisco to avenge your mother's murder,' Jonny boy?  Oh yes, Valerie is very much alive, no thanks to you.  And I don't think I'd tell her about this little meeting here.  Nope, I don't think so," Douglas answered.

A myriad of emotions passed through the bright blue eyes of his hated enemy.  Douglas had never liked Jonathan Boyle, even before the death of his wife.  Always felt there was something missing from the other Legacy member, something important, something necessary.  A conscience, a soul . . . something as simple as compassion?

The former precept paused, then added, "As for your family, as for the entire world, I'm doing them a favor.  Your son will be able to grow up without you, probably the best gift I could give him.  And don't try to tell me that you beat him up to make him stronger.  You're a bully, a weak pathetic little man who can only make himself feel big by beating up a helpless woman and child.  Your son will finally be free of you."

He paused, then smiled darkly, saying, "This is where it begins, Jonny boy.  I'm going after the men responsible for my wife's death, one at a time.  You're first . . . but you won't be the last.  This is only the beginning, and when I'm finished with it, everyone will know what a joke the Legacy really is.  Good-bye, Jonny-boy. . .tell the devil hello when you get to hell!"  He nodded to Cranshaw . . . and walked away.

After a few moments, Cranshaw said, "We should go.  Derek Rayne is on his way here, with that woman, Jane Witherspoon.  I can cast a glamor spell, so they believe you're both dead."  Douglas needed no time to think about that . . . he bobbed his head, then left the house.  Yes, it was fitting for Douglas Barton to die on this day.

*    *    *

As Douglas Barton had predicted, once it was established that his daughters had known nothing of his plans, the Legacy left them alone.  And thanks to Cranshaw's help, he had further protected his daughters when he made the Legacy believe he was dead.  After finding Jonathan Boyle's lifeless body, Derek Rayne and Jane Witherspoon had left to get help.  When they returned, the body of Douglas Barton had disappeared.

But Douglas still had more work to do.  He remained in San Francisco for another few days . . . he wanted to see this through to the end.  And so, as Bryan Cranshaw stood behind one tree at Jonathan Boyle's funeral service, Douglas stood behind another.  He listened with shocked amusement as Derek Rayne lauded his friend's commitment to making the world a better place.  I should probably take him out next,  Douglas thought in disgust, he's too stupid to live!  And when he wasn't trying to fight back his nausea, he watched the boy Nick's face.

The boy probably thought he was numb, but Douglas could see the combination of grief, relief, and rage play across the teenager's face.  God, but he was so young . . . younger than Val, Douglas was shocked to remember.  If he had any doubts about Nick Boyle being allowed to grow up in peace, they were gone.

No more would the boy have to worry about measuring up to his drunken father's expectations.  No more would he find it necessary to protect his mother from his father's fists.  The boy was finally free.  Douglas pushed himself away from the tree and headed back toward his car.  He nodded to Cranshaw, who returned the nod with a faint smile.

He had one more thing to do, before he left for Europe.  There was only one person whom he trusted to keep his secret.  Oh, he knew he could trust Nathaniel, but Nathaniel would be needed to protect the girls.  No, the only other person he could trust with this secret was Justin Adams.  If only because he spent so much time in his lab, on digs . . . there was little chance he would tell Jane, or anyone else, the truth.

In his car, Douglas dialed the home number for Justin Adams.  On the second ring, a young girl's voice said breathlessly, "Adams residence, this is Kristen!"  Douglas grinned . . . she sounded just like Valerie when she answered the phone.  The former Legacy precept knew Justin's daughter was three years younger than his own Valerie, but Kristen still reminded him of his daughter.

"Hello, Kristen, my name is David Bartholomew, a friend of your father's.  Is he around?" Douglas asked, using the assumed name he had used in the past when he didn't want the entire Legacy knowing his business.  It was ridiculously simple, but for some reason, the only people who had ever figured it out were Nathaniel and Justin.

"Uhm, hold on a minute . . . Daddy!  There's someone named David Bartholomew on the phone for you!" the girl called out.  In a more normal tone, Kristen added, "Daddy's getting ready to leave, and Mom is helping him to pack.  Ethan is asleep, that's why I answered the phone.  He's really cranky if his nap is interrupted.  Do you work with my father?"

"Yes, I do, Kristen . . . but I'm not a scientist like your father.  My eldest daughter will be a scientist, an archaeologist.  She's finishing up college, and I have another daughter who is just about your age.  A little older actually . . . she just turned sixteen a few months ago," Douglas said.

"Oh, she'll get to date soon!  That's so neat.  Here's my dad, Mr. Bartholomew, I gotta go check on my brother.  It was nice talking to you!" Kristen said, then Douglas heard the phone being exchanged.  He heard his friend telling his daughter that it was time for Ethan to get up anyhow . . . they would be leaving for the airport.

Then Justin said, "I hope to hell you know what you're doing, Bart.  Everyone in the Legacy thinks you're dead.  And that little Fury you raised won't let Tremain anywhere near your youngest."  Douglas chuckled, sitting back in his seat.  Justin added with some asperity, "It's not funny, dammit!  You had Jane in tears with that story about Valerie being dead!  You had something to do with Boyle's death, didn't you?"

Well, score one for our side, Douglas thought, but even though Justin knows, he'll never tell London.  He knows what will happen to my girls.  Even though he doesn't bother spending time with his family, he would never do anything to harm innocents.

"I'm just calling you to let you know I am alive, Justin.  And even if I did have something to do with that bastard's death, just think . . . what would you do to the monsters who took Claire?  What would you do if someone harmed Ethan or Kristen?  You just think about that.  I'll do whatever I have to do to protect my children," Douglas answered.

There was a long silence, then Douglas told his old friend, "And the only reason you know, the only reason I chose you, is because you're not in the States long enough to tell anyone.  I chose you because I knew you would be leaving again.  I want to trust Nathaniel, but I know he would tell my daughters that I'm still alive, to try to comfort them.  And as long as they believe I'm dead, they're safe from the Legacy."

"Bart, you're talking as if the Legacy is the enemy.  It's not!  Yes, Tremain should have listened to Val!  It's like Jane said when she called here after Boyle was killed.  Val's an honest kid.  But for God's sake, for the sake of your children . . . you can't give up on the Legacy!" Justin pleaded.  Douglas shook his head, even though his friend couldn't see him.  No, that was out of the question.

"The Legacy gave up on me, Justin.  They gave up on me, and on my daughters.  The Legacy has become the enemy.  When it protects a murderer, because that man killed a woman with an unpopular faith, then it's the enemy.  You still don't get it, do you, Justin?  You're burying yourself in your work, so you don't have to face what happened to Claire.  I'm burying myself, so nothing more happens to my daughters.  Good-bye, Justin.  You've been a good friend," Douglas said.

Before Justin could say anything more, the former precept hung up.  He had struck two low blows, by bringing up Claire, but he didn't know how else he could have gotten his point across.  Justin wasn't a good father, but Douglas knew he loved his children.  Not, Douglas thought with a silent sigh, that I have much room to talk.  I haven't been a good father to my children either.

He leaned his head against the back of his seat.  He would pick up what remained of his belongings, then he had a flight to catch.  He had knocked over the first domino.  The next murderer to go down would be Sir Edmund Tremain.  But instead of attacking the man physically, he would attack the precept's reputation.

*    *    *

Justin Adams slowly replaced the receiver in the cradle, disturbed by his conversation with his old friend.  His wife was still packing the last of his belongings, and Madeline always shooed him from the room when she was packing for him, so Justin went into his son's room.  After his conversation with Douglas Barton, he needed to be with his children.

Kristen was gently shaking her younger brother awake, teasing him with her long blonde hair.  Justin's heart contracted . . . was Douglas right?  Had he been running from his guilt and grief all these years, unable to forgive himself for being unable to protect Claire?  What would he do if he ever caught the monsters who had taken Claire from them?  What would he do if someone ever hurt Kristen or Ethan?

Kristen looked up at that moment, her young face alight with laughter and mischief.  Justin's heart contracted once more.  God, she was so beautiful.  She was only three years younger than Valerie, Justin remembered, only three years younger than the girl who had nearly died along with her mother only a few short years ago.  What would he do if someone did to Kristen what had been done to Valerie?  What would he do, if such a thing happened while he was pursuing the Grail?

"Daddy?  Is everything all right?" Kristen asked softly, her laughter dying away, giving way to concern.  Justin could only stare at his beautiful young daughter.  Kristen, Claire, Valerie.  The three names ran together, and Justin knew what he would do in Douglas Barton's position.  The exact same thing.  Justin went to his daughter and enfolded her in his arms.  For this moment in time, all he wanted was to hold her.  If he gave his daughter nothing else, he would give her this moment in time.

- end -

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