CHAPTER 22 ~ EXPOSED

“Looks like everything is ready in case we need to quickly seal off the tunnels from the slasher’s subway access,” Vincent remarked to the men with him as they walked through a tunnel leading away from the Whispering Gallery.

“I’d say so,” agreed Winslow.

“I’m just glad we convinced Mouse that explosives wouldn’t be necessary,” added Cullen.

Kanin laughed with the others, saying, “Yes, Livvy was rather concerned when I told her Mouse would be helping us. Since we found out we have a baby coming, her worries have increased.”

“I imagine so,” remarked Vincent.

“I’m sorry for being so goofy about this.” Kanin could not keep the pleased grin from his face as he glanced at his friends. “We’re just so pleased. We didn’t even know if we could have children.”

“We’re all happy for you two.” Winslow smiled at Kanin and clapped him once on the back. “Be as goofy as you want.”

Suddenly, Vincent stopped short, turning back toward the gallery, when he felt a spike of fear, quickly suppressed, lance through Catherine. He searched his connection to her, but her emotions felt subdued, only a hint of irritation mixed with a dash of trepidation leaking to him.

“Vincent?” Winslow halted also, turning toward him. “Is everything all right?”

“I believe so.” Vincent looked around at his friends, who all watched him. “Please, go on to dinner. I’ll be along later. I just want to check something.”

“If you’re sure.” Winslow nodded once. “You know how to call if you need anything.” He turned back down the tunnel, asking, “So, Kanin, you hoping for a boy or a girl?”

Vincent listened to his friends as they moved off, while he returned toward the Whispering Gallery. Something seemed off. He could not explain why he suddenly felt the need to be close to the surface. One of the entrances he had pointed out to Catherine entered the tunnels near the Whispering Gallery; this location drew him inexplicably. When he reached the bridge leading to the access Above, he paused, then crossed over, for a moment simply listening to the sounds carried down on the winds. When he sensed no other need to continue, he frowned, then took a small book from his pocket to read while he waited for whatever would reveal itself in due course.

* * *

Joe looked at his clock, thinking, Where is she? He turned again to stare through his exterior window, his gaze on the street below. A knock pulled his attention to see Edie standing in his open office door.

“She back?” Joe asked.

“Not yet. I was hoping maybe she called you?”

“No.” He moved into his office, perching on the leading edge of his desk. “What time does that place close?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m guessing soon.” She sighed, glancing into the outer room for a moment. “I’m a little worried, Joe. From what I’ve found on Walker, if he suspects she’s on to him…”

“I know, Edie. Me, too.” He went back to the window, again staring down at the sidewalk foot traffic. “Listen, I know it’s about quitting time for you, but would you mind staying a little late tonight? Keep an eye out for her? If I don’t hear from her soon, I might call Hughs, see if we can justify looking for her.”

“I was hoping you’d okay that. I’m sure she’ll be fine, but I just want to make sure.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

* * *

Catherine watched Suki and Red, donning their white caps as he pulled away from the curb, while she calmed herself, dismissing the spike of fear that shot through her and quieting her irritation at their unexpected presumption. Harder to curb was her trepidation about her emotions drawing Vincent to her, and consequently to them. She could not let that happen. She drew on years of experience as a lawyer to give nothing away to these people, and to hopefully not alert Vincent. A part of her believed they would not actually hurt her, not even Jace. They knew that such an action would be a step far above defending someone being attacked. So, she elected to bide her time, her game face in place.

Red stopped the cab in front of Protectors headquarters, parking at the curb. He climbed out, opened Catherine’s door, and pulled her from the taxi. Suki got out the other door, holding Catherine’s purse. She waited on the sidewalk for Red who brought Catherine around the car with a firm grip on her arm. He pushed her ahead of him into the building, Suki following, then across the room and up the stairs to Jace’s office.

Jace paced in his office, awaiting his cohorts. He faced the door when Red opened it, pushing Catherine into the room until she stood before him.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble…” Catherine told Jace as Red closed the office door, “really.”

“You don’t scare easy, do you?” Jace asked. He walked around her, gesturing to a chair. “Please, sit down.” When Catherine remained standing, he added, “Don’t make this difficult, Cathy.” He glanced at Red, saw him rummaging through Catherine’s pocketbook, which Suki handed him from Catherine’s purse, and extracting her small notebook. “There’s no need for melodrama. I’m not going to hurt you.”

From the corner of her eye, Catherine, more irritated than afraid, watched Red hand Jace her notebook, opened to her log about the hotel, as she lowered herself to the front edge of the simple wooden chair before Jace’s desk. She registered Suki returning her pocketbook to her purse. Though certain that Jace could hurt her, she still did not believe he would, so she continued to calm her emotions. The last person she wanted to bring Vincent to was Jace.

“The sailor murders,” Jace read from Catherine’s notes. “I’m innocent!” He grinned at Red and Suki, walking behind Catherine’s chair. “I swear. My granddaddy was a sharecropper in Alabama when all this went down.” He tossed Catherine’s notebook on his desk and stood over her, looking down on her.

Catherine glanced at her notebook, knew Jace understood she could prove opportunity because of the secret tunnels, and decided to acknowledge she knew he was the slasher. She wondered if Jace would continue to deny it.

“Did you know?” Catherine asked, looking up at Jace. “When you bought the building?”

“No… no,” Jace replied nonchalantly. “We had been… doing renovations in the basement, and we stumbled on the tunnels. They’d been sealed up for… almost a century. At the time, we had no idea why they were there. It’s like a… like a regular maze down there.” He grinned, pleased, intrigued. “You know, side tunnels and dead ends… and so old you can’t imagine.”

“Can’t I?” Catherine posed.

“The story… the… the demon protector…” he walked around his desk and sat in his chair, “the angel from below… the city needed him. Frightened people need… symbols to make them feel safe.” He frowned in frustration, a hint of anger showing, dropping his gaze to his desktop. “So many people hurting… frightened… more every day, day after day, year after year.”

Catherine shook her head, aggravated; he seemed to think people only lived in fear, violence, and mythology. Vincent knew better. Beauty and compassion and selflessness still existed in the world. He had taught her to seek it and find it.

“I began to doubt,” Jace continued, “to… question whether one man could make a difference.” His frustrated gaze wandered as he spoke. He caught Catherine’s eyes again, declaring, “But no longer.”

“You call that making a difference?” posed Catherine, disgusted at his narrow-minded view. “Killing a few muggers?”

Jace stood, dismissively claiming, “The deaths weren’t important.” Then he asserted, “The legend was. It’s time for them to be afraid now.”

“What about the policeman?” Catherine challenged. “He’s still in critical condition.” Sickened by his apathy for the lives he took, she remembered Vincent, distraught over killing Belmont and his men, much as they deserved it.

Jace walked around his desk, saying indifferently, “Legends never make mistakes. They never miss, or stumble, or strike out in panic.” He pulled a wooden chair near Catherine and sat. “And they never hurt those who don’t deserve to be hurt.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “The problem is… men do all those things.”

Catherine’s gaze ran over him, barely hiding her distaste for his actions and attitude, then she said, “It’s too bad your legend doesn’t really exist.”

“Oh, but he does,” Jace countered, giving her a knowing smile. “And you’re going to tell me all about him. Aren’t you?”

Catherine felt her irritation and fear spike again, and once more pushed it down, determined to keep her fright in check, or Vincent would come; these people could not have access to him. She shook her head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, knowing her face and body language gave nothing away.

* * *

Vincent leaned against a wall near the bridge of the Whispering Gallery, the book he read not as good of a distraction from Catherine’s odd emotional state as he had hoped. He closed the book around his finger and bowed his head, wondering what might be happening to her, as he took a few steps toward the bridge. Then he stopped, raising his head as Catherine’s emotions surged, another spike of fear with a hint of irritation. He felt her push the fear down one more time, drawing up calmness, cloaking herself in it, as he stepped onto the bridge. His inner self wanted to run to her side, protect her from anything and everything, and settled into alert readiness. He tried to relax, telling himself she was all right, for now.

A few more steps brought him to a spot where music floated through the gallery, a beautiful symphony performed by an orchestra above. He stepped near the edge of the bridge for the strongest sound, then stopped, tipped his head toward the song, closed his eyes, listened. The music, as always, further settled his inner self. Standing still, he let the lovely sound wash over him, relaxing him.

* * *

Jace smirked at Catherine, then threw a glance at Red and Suki, before saying, “I don’t know why I didn’t make the connection before. It was just a few weeks ago I read in the paper about three men being… what appeared to be mauled to death. They had just murdered some lady when, no one knows why or how, something attacked them, slashing them to death. It was that story that gave me the idea for… helping out on the subways, where too many assaults happen with too little… retribution. I didn’t realize the link until last night. That was your case, wasn’t it? Were you there? Did he save you?”

“Again,” Catherine reiterated, still certain she gave nothing away, “what are you talking about? You’ve lost me.”

Jace shook his head, then posed, “You had a visitor last night? Our… mysterious friend, the angel from below. And here you tried to convince me he couldn’t be real. When all along, you’re friends with him.”

Catherine drew her brows together and frowned, affecting confusion, and said, “What? I’m not following you. I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“The demon protector, Cathy!” Jace insisted. “You know… with the face of a demon and the soul of an angel, that I’ve been talking to you about… who the street people whisper about. I know you know him! Stop pretending! I want to meet him… talk to him… I want you to introduce us. I know he keeps a low profile, but since you’re friends with him, I’m sure you can arrange it.”

Catherine let incredulity, and a healthy dose of irritation, color her tone as she replied, “The myth that you’ve been promoting? That you’ve been pretending to? You think he’s real and that I know him? I’ve never known anyone to cling so tightly to a delusion in my life. I have no idea what you’re getting at or why you’re dragging me into this.”

“You were seen with him, Cathy,” Jace averred. “Last night, on your balcony, by Red.” Jace gestured to the man across the room. “You’re the one who’s pretending right now. Tell me about him. Introduce me to him.”

“How many times have I told you,” Catherine insisted, irritation quickly headed toward anger, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cathy, you’re trying to protect him, fine.” Jace’s words drowned the end of hers. “I admire that, but it’s pointless.” He gestured toward Red and Suki. “Red saw you together. He watched you for more than twenty minutes.”

“Red needs a reality check,” Catherine declared, glaring at Red.

“Hey,” Red cut in, “I know what I saw.”

“Catherine,” Jace cajoled, “whoever he is, he has nothing to fear from me.” He sat up, smiling. “And we’re alike, he and I. We’re…” he glanced at Red and Suki, “mirror images, twins. We’re the same.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” Catherine fumed, rising quickly. This arrogant, manipulative, controlling, merciless man was nothing like Vincent.

Suki stepped up, glaring at Catherine, blocking her path. Catherine turned sharply toward Jace, staring down at him.

“Am I going to be allowed to leave?” Catherine challenged.

“If you insist,” Jace replied calmly. He rose, stepped toward his wall of weapons, grasped the blade of the katana he told Catherine not to touch, and pushed it. The sword pivoted at the hilt, until a locking mechanism released in the wall, then gears echoed, swinging a bookshelf into the room, revealing a hidden landing at the top of a staircase. “After you.”

Suki grabbed Catherine’s arm, pushing her across the room onto the landing.

Catherine struggled to suppress her fear. She still believed Jace would not hurt her; he seemed too smart for that. She reined in her alarm, adamantly believing that she could not lead Vincent to these people. She looked back, watching Suki step onto the landing behind her. When the other woman pushed forward, Catherine had no other choice but to descend the stairs.

* * *

Vincent sensed Catherine’s emotions spike again, pure fear this time. His enjoyment of the music interrupted, his eyes opened, gaze darting side to side, as he assessed the threat to her. His inner self surged to the fore, wanting to rush to her aid, certain something was wrong. He forced himself to pause, evaluate. He knew how strong she was and wanted to encourage her in handling herself, facing whatever she must without unnecessary interference from him, so long as her life was not threatened. She needed to know that he believed she could stand on her own. When she pushed her fear down for the third time, he closed his eyes again, trusting that she would be fine.