A week already, his father would be frantic and John Pater seemed only to take great delight in that fact. “Now Jacob will see what it is like to have one’s only son snatched away from him. He will know the pain that I have known and it will be intensified since he knows not where to find you.”

Vincent found it impossible to reply, not that he couldn’t he wasn’t gagged just that his heartache prevented words from bubbling forth. But Paracelsus knew from Vincent’s disposition and the sorrow in his eyes that he was affected by his imprisonment and the fact that he was unable to send word below that he was, at least, well.
“It won’t always be like this Vincent.” Paracelsus told him one morning, when again Vincent had refused the meal set before him. “There will come a time when you will thank me from releasing you from bondage. Just look at that sunshine, have you ever seen anything so beautiful? I can give all this to you and more. You will see the world my son, you deserve to see the world. What could he give you?” Paracelsus laughed derisively, “A rock? A mirror pool? Maybe a waterfall? I can show you endless waterfalls and we will start with Niagara. You will be left spellbound by its immense power, awed by its beauty. Vincent, did you believe that the father cared for you? How could he when you were denied so much that was rightfully yours? Thus, you should be grateful that I have taken you away from your dungeon and set you free to roam the earth. You and I are destined for greater things, my son and I am eager to have them underway.” He paused gauging the effect of his words upon seemingly deaf ears, “Try to eat, Vincent. We may have many days travel ahead of us, much of it on foot, you will tire out if you do not keep up your strength.”

The only indication Paracelsus had that Vincent had heard him was a shrug of the younger man’s shoulders and a deliberate shove of the plate set before him signifying his refusal to eat.

“As you will.” Paracelsus sighed, “I will offer you no more until you beg me for food.” He told Vincent as he took the plate away. Vincent despised the man, “I would rather die first.” He told him venomously,

“So you do have a tongue in that head of yours, I was beginning to wonder.” Paracelsus beamed, for he had at last got a response from the younger man that was of human element. In the last seven days, all he had instigated were snarls and roars.

“I can see I will have to re-educate you my son. The things you believe to be important are not so, family ties will be a thing of the past. I am your father, have always been your father and yet I do not insist upon loyalty to me. Rather, I will introduce you to the world and it will become what you make of it, but no longer will you be shut away where you cannot be seen. You are a remarkable man Vincent, and the world deserves to know of your existence. Aptly named too, Vincent the conqueror, the one who possess great power and you will go down in history. People will write about you for centuries, my son.” Vincent detected the glow of pride in Paracelsus’ tone and he wanted nothing more than to wipe the smugness from his face. It was impossible though for chains still bound him to the floor. Chains that anchored to his wrists and harnessed around his torso prevented any chance of escape.

“And today my son you will meet a friend of mine who will help to put you on the road to fame. I have told him much about you, but it will be interesting I think to see his response when he finally claps eyes upon you for the first time. Seeing is believing, huh Vincent?” Paracelsus laughed. “I must go, he will soon be here and there is much to prepare. Try to stay clean Vincent, use the sanitation at your disposal, I would not want him to conclude that you are all animal. With my friend’s establishment behind us, we will rule Vincent, you, that friend and I will rule the world and you will leave men quaking if they dare to disobey our commands. Oh come do you find displeasure at such things, is that a frown I see? Don’t worry Vincent, after we have finished your new education you will see, as I see that you are destined for far greater achievements than having knowledge of Shakespeare and Beethoven. They are things of the past. It is time to move on, Vincent, time to move on.” As if on cue a small alarm set to go off at noon sounded in Paracelsus breast pocket, “I must go. Just do as I say, stay clean and be on your best behaviour for our guest.” Paracelsus laughed derisively, knowing as only he could that whatever behaviour Vincent displayed for his guest he could not lose. His colleague would pay a fortune for someone like Vincent in any capacity, there would always be a use for one such as he in such a worldwide establishment. And true, Paracelsus did deem himself to be the younger man’s rightful father, but when it came to wealth, Paracelsus would certainly part with such a relationship when gold was involved. If he was right, and he believed he was, then after this day he would be among the richest men in America. His colleague, he knew would pay anything he asked to own such a creature as Vincent. Laughing, Paracelsus made his way down the corridor to the room where he would meet his associate later that day and feeling elated. Yes for a certainty, any fellow would pay anything that he asked to own one such as Vincent and before night fell he would have more gold at his disposal than he had ever dreamed. Lucky he had stumbled upon his associate, lucky indeed for that chance meeting in a casino brought all his plans to fruition.

Back inside the room, Vincent peered at the street sixty stories below and marvelled at the sight of the antlike creatures that swarmed the streets. His heart went out to them. Whatever their problem, and he knew there would be many he could identify with the feeling of hopelessness and desolation some might feel in not knowing a way out. He’d gnawed at his chains until his gums bled to no avail and he had tried throwing himself at the windows in the hope that shattering glass would bring someone to his aid, only to know the pain of toughened glass. Therefore, the sunlight streaming across the noonday sky almost went unnoticed in his bid for freedom. What would become of him, if he could not get free? Who would know where to find him? Who was there sturdy enough to ensure his freedom?
Winslow perhaps, along with a few of the strongest tunnel men, could put together become his stronghold, but such thinking was futile. If they searched anywhere for him it would be within their own subterranean world. Few would decide that he had been taken to and held captive in the city above. And on the slight chance that they did, where would they start looking for him? The city was a big place, and Paracelsus spoke of the world. His thoughts running riot Vincent tried desperately to find some kind of foundation to pin his hopes upon, but there was none. No body knew where to look, and while he remained hostile to his captor, he was unlikely ever to be trusted without the chains whereby he could do something about notifying one of the helpers of his predicament.

Even so, if he allowed himself to pretend that he had seen reason, it would not be something that would simply happen. Paracelsus would see through that facade. It would have to be done over time, time that Vincent was not prepared to give. His father, Jacob Wells, could wither and die from heartache in such time. Thus trapped and not knowing a suitable way out unless time was to lapse Vincent felt frustrated and angry at the injustices forced upon him. Caged like an animal he could see nothing of the promises Paracelsus had made him for fear of his escape. Thus he had to face the fact that he could well be in chains for years until he was subdued enough to be granted freedom and possibly only minimal at that. And as thoughts of the endless years in captivity stretched before him Vincent laid his great bulk onto the matting at his feet and with head on arms he rolled into the foetal position where he drew his greatest comfort. Oh to actually be able to reside there again, in the womb safe from hate and harm, with no eyes yet upon him, and a heart that thudded in harmony with his. He was nurtured and cherished and adored in his mother’s womb, those few months of gestation being his only sanctuary in all of his life, before life, and the only time when he was really free. “If only I could return to that safe haven.” He whispered as tears rolled down his furred cheeks. And though he had felt the need before, none was so poignant as now, for he literally ached to feel the softness of a mother’s breast enfold him and hear the soft lilt of her voice calm his shattered nerves. A mother’s lullaby that only now did he grasp, coming to him through the watery world of his safe place deep within the recesses of his furthest memories. Who was she that woman? Was it really Anna Pater? Did Paracelsus tell the truth? Was he really his son? If not then who? Who bore and brought him into the world? Who knew the history of his origins? Where could he find the truth?
Perhaps Paracelsus was right. Perhaps in some small way taking him out of the confines of a rocky home, he would place him on a road of discovery. Perhaps someone somewhere would come forth and claim him as theirs. Perhaps he would one day at last know a mother’s love. For this he had craved all his life. No matter the love and the attention bestowed on him by strangers, inside he had ached to know whom he really belonged to. Perhaps this way, he would find out.

Lost in thought he only half acknowledged the turning of the doorknob and did not move until he heard footsteps, looking up only when he heard a gasp that signified someone had set eyes upon him that had never seen him before.

“He’s magnificent! John your labours will be richly rewarded. I must have him. Name your price.”

From his place upon the floor, Vincent regarded the new man with suspicion. He had not a face he could trust, there was something sinister about those sparkling grey eyes and the mannerism in which the man moved and gauged a reaction from Vincent expecting to be mauled at any second. “The chains are necessary I see, and the harness too?” At Paracelsus confirmation, the fellow went on, “I will arrange transportation within the hour. Can you knock him out? You told me he has an adverse reaction to various drugs. How do you contain him? With a whip?”

Paracelsus laughed, “No, no. My son has gone undisciplined for the best part of his life thanks to his captor, but he is an intelligent creature and he can be made to see sense. It might take time, but if you are willing then you will have for yourself a loyal employee, one with immense strength and capabilities. Only never underestimate his intelligence, his IQ is at the top of the spectrum and I mean at the top. My son was the product of two highly intelligent people, with a history of intelligence in their ancestral lineage. It goes without saying there is only one such as he in all of the world and it will not be easy agreeing a figure. He is, you have to agree, priceless.”

“He most certainly is. Money is no problem Mr Pater. As I said earlier just name your price. We can deal in diamonds if you prefer?”

“No, gold bars as we agreed, please.”

“Then gold bars it will be. Leave us now, I wish to examine the beast alone.”

“Do you think that wise, he is not tranquillised.”

“I thought you said that he could not be drugged?”

“That is true, but there are some species of plant that I use with which to minimise his capabilities. Some leave him as quiet as a lamb. I will administer some if you wish?”

“No. I want to view his strength with my own eyes. For that I need to taunt him, do you mind?”

“When the gold has changed hands I will have no say in what you do with him. Till then yes, I must insist that you obey my rules. He must be tranquillised before you endeavour to go near him.”

The fellow was clearly impressed. The fear in John Pater’s eyes told him the truth of that statement. “As you wish. First we will see to the necessary transaction and then he will be mine?” Paracelsus nodded and followed the man from the room, leaving Vincent alone once more. Now more than ever fear gripped him. He’d been sold! Paracelsus had sold him when less than an hour before he had spoken of introducing him to the world, showing him Niagara Falls? Such lies, such deceit…Vincent was enraged!
When the fellow returned, there would be no need for taunts for with the fury that he felt at that moment, Vincent would rent the man in two the moment he came close enough to touch him.
Thus, he waited, curled seemingly innocent, biding his time…if he couldn’t escape now… the chances were he never would.

It grew dark seemingly without Catherine noticing. One moment she huddled tight in a corner of her bedroom facing the outside world through dancing drapes, the next all she could see of life was the glimmer of lights through an eerie pattern. This way and that the drapes danced and Catherine’s focus remained upon them seemingly following their every movement as if her life depended upon it. For though they moved to the tune of the wind, they seemed to Catherine to be the only solid foundation with which to cling to in an otherwise unstable world.

She couldn’t even trust her own body anymore. It betrayed her rudely, insisting that another could take form and override her sensibility that she was one, one being, one person, one heart. Instead inside there were two as the gentle and sometimes furious heartbeat alongside her own signified that another had dominance over members she no longer had control of. ‘This must be what it is to go mad’ Catherine told herself after hours of ruthlessly trying to ignore the rapid heat beat sounding in her ears. ‘I’m possessed, I have to be.’ Still no voice replied to her, only that onward, continuous thumping that was sometimes carelessly indifferent, other times stupendously enchanted or as now dashing with an incredibility of disbelief and fury for something not yet beheld.

Within Catherine noticed the shift in emotions and could only speculate to their cause. If it was him, as she supposed, the one to whom everyone maintained she shared a connection before she’d encountered a memory loss that was slowly returning then he was distraught about something. However, Catherine did not feel inclined to help in any way, wanting only to dismiss the feeling of his heartbeat thudding within her ears, that had seemingly taken root alongside her own heart. Placing a hand to her opposite wrist, she could almost imagine the staccato beneath the touch of her questing fingers until she realised the impossibility of such a thing. Though the pounding of her pulse told her that her own heart beat within her chest she well knew the folly of expecting to connect with another alien, foreign heart inside that was not her own. How then, if she knew that, could she be so certain that the restless pounding in her ears, the absolute belief that she could feel his heart’s life force was actually so? Did she just imagine it? Or was she possessed? On that night he had rescued her in the park, had she contracted something from him whereby for ever after he would have some mighty hold over her? More importantly, why could she feel him? For what purpose should she know how he was feeling to such a degree and how long would it continue to cause her vexation?
For it proved to be a constant aggravation to Catherine, who having almost accepted that it was there for a reason, could not foresee it ever giving her peace unless she listened to what it asked of her. ‘What do you want with me?’ Catherine screamed into the darkened room of her apartment where the dancing curtains mocked her fear. ‘How can I help you?’ She sobbed, head in hands, ‘how can I help you?’ she whispered, until a feeble response met her questing that seemed to say, ‘F…R…E…E… …M…E…’ with every significant heartbeat within. Tears coursing down her cheeks Catherine brushed them aside furiously with the palms of her hands and spat at the room, “How? How can I free you?” But her question remained unanswered as the pounding within tapered off to a mode of utter peace and tranquillity. Stunned at the sudden change in his heart’s tempo it took all of Catherine’s concentration to ascertain the reason and focused as she was, Catherine almost forgot her own annoyance and fear of circumstances thrown upon her while she pondered the cause for the changes within.

It was as if she were sat in the wings of a play, breath held, awaiting the ultimate climax, the grand finale to a sight not yet beheld as the darkened room only emphasised her predicament of not quite knowing the way forward. It seemed to Catherine that along with her the whole world waited as even the wind died and the dancing curtains ceased in their movements. Transfixed Catherine stretched tired limbs, listened and winced at each disjointed click as she tugged herself into a standing position with the aid of a chair at her side. Then on automation she crossed to the balcony and almost nervously peered through the drapes that had held her attention for the best part of four hours and looked out onto the street below.
Nothing different there and normality resurfaced at an alarming rate and caused Catherine to teeter on the edge of the terrace, knuckles white as she held tight to the wall for safety. Feeling faint, she pulled a wrought iron chair out from beneath its matching table and sat down grateful for its support of limbs that suddenly felt as though they did not belong to her. Her stomach growled signifying the length of time since she had eaten, and reminding Catherine that her weakened state was probably due to going without since breakfast. Still the thought of food was unpalatable, and groggily Catherine edged her way back into the apartment with the aid of fixtures and furnishings until she reached the kitchen where she was able to make herself a hot drink. Chiding herself with a slight giggle Catherine reprimanded her tired mind that though it might insist it was so, alcohol was not what she needed, her brain was fuzzy enough, however some kind of sustenance would keep her going until her world righted itself again.

Moments later and a mug of hot coffee held fast between her palms Catherine sipped at the black brew and began to feel whole again. ‘Chandler,’ she reprimanded herself with a bout of shaky laughter, ‘You go girl, you go. Possessed my foot! The only thing that possessed you girl was the stupidity of fanciful notions. That woman has a lot to answer for!” Catherine told herself as she thought of her friend Jenny with a wry grimace knowing she would tell her so just as soon as she had finished her coffee. Jenny would be home about now, Catherine thought. It had been dark a couple of hours, it had to be around six oclock.

On cue the clock in her bedroom sounded, the distinctive chimes rocketing through her in an otherwise silent room. Strange how the darkness emphasised the stillness, yet the absolute quiet within a house was almost deafening in itself when noises one took for granted at any other time announced themselves with terrifying clarity. Like the distinctive chime of her bedroom clock, announcing that it was in actuality seven o’clock in the evening rather than the assumed six.

Putting mug to table, Catherine folded her hands neatly onto her lap and rested her head back against the sofa facing the window. The drapes trembled only slightly now as the city beneath grew quiet. It was the midnight hour, the one before the absolute. A time when for mere moments the city waited in hushed anticipation for the night call to begin. The time when children went to bed and parents after a hard day’s work relaxed in front of television sets, and those going out for the evening were just leaving their homes. Those few moments when Catherine, on an otherwise nonchalance evening far removed from this one would take time to just sit at the table out on the balcony drink in hand and let the world go by. A distinctive time, one Catherine never grew tired of those split seconds of paradise in an otherwise crazy city.

Signing, Catherine listened for the telltale click that would signify the end of her moment and the beginning of the next trimester in the heart of the Big Apple and was rewarded with the roar of an engine eighteen floors beneath her. The corresponding shouts from gleeful partygoers met her ears seconds later, trailing on a breath of wind that spiralled its merry way up from the street below.
She smiled, it was all so typical, so expected so ordinary. Her life was ordinary, she was ordinary. For a moment that thought process led her to feel sadness for an honest appraisal of a life she knew to the wavering possibility of being something she wasn’t. Of having something, someone she could never have. Panic, sudden and swift seized Catherine’s heart and then in a split second she knew that the thought process, the panic attack wasn’t entirely her own. From somewhere deep inside her another was awakening and with a startling transparency of being ensnared.

Furiously almost as if her hands and feet were bound with chains Catherine shook those limbs in a bid to free herself attuned to the silence of her movements as if she had expected the sound of metal links pounding against each other. Disorientated, Catherine ran around her apartment feeling that the walls themselves were caving in on her, as the desolate feeling of entrapment enveloped her wholly.

“What’s happening to me!” She wailed as that feeling of possession swept over her again and she looked around wildly for means of escape. The door was not a possibility neither was the balcony, each posed a threat she was not prepared to take. Breath rasped in her throat and she fought wildly, kicking out at unseen monsters while the drums beat furiously within. And then just as suddenly as before she slumped into an armchair as all fight drained from her limbs and a peacefulness washed over her, taking her floating on the crest of a tropical wave to paradise, an Elysium where she found absolute tranquillity from which she never wanted to rouse.

While across the city, another lay motionless in stupendous languor the affects of a tranquilliser dart flitting in soft harmonious waves over a restless body. Aptly named the conqueror slept muzzled and bound and watched over by one that was not – a said angel turned ruinous – the one known as Gabriel.

To be continued in part nine.

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