He could not comprehend that this old woman had appeared just like that when he travelled so much faster and had left her several hours back at her chamber and she old and almost blind had arrived ahead of him.

"Narcissa?"

It was then that Vincent realised that what he saw before him, was not of flesh and blood, but rather some kind of mirage such as one would see in the desert, one that shimmered and drifted in and out of vision. His senses attuned to the vision Vincent took in the fullness of the apparition before him and allowed it to consume him. Within the folds of the wispy cloak, he heard Narcissa speak to him and his heart pounded as he absorbed her warning.

"Vincent...hear me. A great storm is brewing. The one for whom you sought me is in great danger. Find for her a safe place from the storm and in so doing save yourself."

With that the vision faded and was gone before Vincent had a chance to recover enough to speak. Heart pounding, breathing rapid Vincent set off at a gallop his cloak flying our behind him reminiscent of some huge bat in flight.

He had gone to Narcissa to see what should be done regarding his and Catherine's relationship and had come away lighter of spirit but still apprehensive of the future to come. Now all that paled into insignificance. Catherine was in danger and she needed him. Needed a safe place from the storm that ironically Vincent had believed to be him.

Rounding the final bend Vincent came to a screeching halt as he met Catherine coming the other way running as fast as he. At sight of each other both stumbled, falling against one another breathlessly as Vincent reached out to steady Catherine.

"Catherine, where are you going? What's wrong?"

"I have to go above, Vincent. Its not safe for me to be here." Her eyes were wide with fear, yet her heart told him that she wanted nothing more than to stay.

"Tell me?" Guiding her to the nearest bench alongside one tunnel wall, he bid her sit bending to sit beside her and taking her hands in his he waited for her to speak.

"The man that killed that person up at the glen threatens to kill others unless he finds me."
Her words were cold expressionless, without hope as she told him about the article in the newspaper that she had heard Mary read out.

"And you think that by going above you will prevent that?" At Catherine's nod, he went on, "But at what cost to you?"

"I don't want to think about that, Vincent. But how can I sit here and let other's die because I am too frightened to go above?"

He shook his head understanding her predicament, yet knowing with Narcissa's warning there had to be another way.

"Where is the least likely place he will look for you if not here, Catherine?"

"It doesn't matter where it is. Don't you see Vincent as long as I remain in hiding someone will die?”

"And what guarantee have you got that he won't continue to kill after he has silenced you?"

Catherine hadn't thought of that.

"Then what can I do, Vincent? What way is open to me?"

"Catherine, think. Where would you feel safest most?" Narcissa's words raced through Vincent's mind as he asked the question. Nowhere was safer than below, he knew that, everyone knew that. And there was nothing to suggest that the killer had knowledge of the tunnels or of Catherine’s involvement in them. Neither Peter nor her father were likely to tell, they would rather die than do so, but that in itself didn't solve the problem. Catherine was right; while she remained in hiding innocent, women would die. No one could live with that as frightened as they might be. What did Narcissa say? Find a safe place from the storm and in so doing save yourself? What did she mean by that? Was there a hidden meaning? Knowing Narcissa there had to be.

He had gone to her to talk about Catherine and what had happened with Lisa. About his fears and insistence that he lived a life alone never knowing love of a woman, but as usual, Narcissa had disagreed, had seen something different, something he had not allowed himself to see. And even now had difficulty in accepting even though he knew it was no use trying to defy the Gods.

"There is no place I'd rather be than with you, Vincent?" Catherine told him sincerely, her lips trembling as she voiced the words. You are my safe place. Vincent. And I would like to be yours."

Like a flash of lightening Vincent understood. The only place possible for either of them was with each other. Whatever they did wherever they went from now on, they should face it together.
Narcissa's warning drifted in and out of his mind, although he believed that he was not yet ready to accept that Catherine was his safe place. How could one such as she provide him with sanctity from the emotions that flared within whenever she was close? It was contradictory - never had she been in more danger than she was while with him. He yearned for her, wanted to seek out the hidden depths of her being, to lose himself in her. Yet, to do so could be her greatest danger and to offer himself and be denied could cause the death of him.
Ruefully he wondered who would be the greatest risk to her he or the killer, since both had the potential to kill her, yet looking at her now fearfully awaiting a response to her reply, he knew that thought to be stupid, he would rather die than put her in a position whereby he might harm her. No, simply, he might be her safe place from the storm, but she could never be his. That was a risk he was not prepared to take, not after Lisa. Catherine was a woman of the world above, how could he expect that she might return his love in full despite what she maintained when Lisa, a woman of below, never could.

"Then I will keep you safe, Catherine." Vincent answered at last. "But you must trust me."

"I do trust you, Vincent. What do you have in mind?"

"We must go above, together. This man must be caught before he can kill again."

"And how do you propose that will occur?"

"Above away from these tunnels you will keep the people below safe, and once he knows where you are that alone, if he is true to his word will save the lives of the many. But we must not allow him to finalise his goal. Don't worry, Catherine I will never let harm come to you. Trust me."

Burying her face against his chest, Catherine knew that she did trust him. She more than trusted him, she loved him and as she watched him flex his fingers with their lethal looking tips she understood exactly what he was driving at. He would be prepared to kill to save her, something she knew he had never done before, save for the time he lashed out and scarred his brother.
She didn't want it to come to that, didn't want him to kill for her. Vincent had enough difficulty handling his differences and using those claws to kill would surely highlight the fact that he was part animal and Catherine hated the thought of him being forced to save her in this way and running the risk of himself being injured or discovered.
Yet what other way was there?

Miserably they each faced the possibility of the only way open to them with a growing sense of anxiety and apprehension and a fierce longing to protect the other come what may as they rose and walked back towards the home chambers to inform Father of their intention to go above.

All the same, he was not prepared to offer up his daughter to save the life of the many, yet he couldn't for the life of him see any other way out for the moment and that was the frightening thing. Despite the fact that they now had the identity of the body on the mountain, there had been nothing to link them to the killer, as yet.

If only he could go to where Catherine was, he would be happier. With Peter still indisposed and thanks to the investigation his not having had a moment to spare to seek the entrance to the tunnels through the park, Charles was almost at his wits end when he stilled to listen to a sound that appeared to be coming from the direction of the door. Rising, he reached for the nearest object to hand, which happened to be a letter opener, the thin malicious blade sparkled by the overhead light as he rose and made his way silently toward the hall. There he breathed a sigh of relief as the voice he cherished most in the entire world reached his ears. "Daddy?"

"Catherine!"

They ran together hugging one another hard, wrapping their arms around each other tightly and never wanting to let go. Then regaining his senses Charles exclaimed, "Catherine...what are you doing here?"

"I had to come...Dad, have you seen today's headlines?"

"Seen them, heard them, the news bulletins are full of it! But none of it was worth coming above for. Catherine there must be a way to stop this man!"

"There is." Not noticing that Catherine had left the front door ajar when she had entered, Charles froze then relaxed as he heard first the voice then saw the carrier of it.

"Vincent!"

"Vincent will help us daddy. Its the only way." Catherine's eyes begged him to understand.

"What's the only way?" Enlightenment dawned, "Oh no, no Catherine...you're not going to offer yourself up to this madman! I forbid you!"

"Then what would you suggest, daddy? You of all people should know what this man is capable of." Catherine replied sorrowfully.

"Exactly! And I am not about to let him slice away my daughter, bit by bit. Vincent I am appalled, I thought you would do anything to keep her safe."

"And I will, I promise you. But what this man has threatened..."

"Yes, that’s it, isn't it? What he has threatened. He hasn't done it yet though has he?"

"And we have to wait and see if he does first do we?" Catherine replied forcefully. "Dad I well know how you feel. Do you think for one moment that I want to do this?"

Long and hard Charles searched his daughter's face, finally agreeing, "No. But Catherine..."

"Mr Chandler, I promise you that nothing will happen to Catherine. I will personally see to that." Vincent spoke softly yet Charles could tell that he forcefully meant every word. He looked from one to the other of them, was he missing something? What was different about the two of them? Did there seem to be a change in their relationship or was he just imagining it?

The telephone rang.

Jumping at the shrill tone right at his elbow Charles snatched it up, "Yes!"

"Mr Chandler?"

"Yes, who is this?" Something invisible crawled over Charles skin.

"I see that your daughter is back home. May I speak with her please?"

"Who is this?"

There was silence but Charles could hear breathing signifying the caller waited. With his hand to the mouthpiece he told Catherine, "Someone knows you're home, wants to speak with you. What if its him?"

"Have you an extension?" Vincent asked.

Catherine moved toward the study, "Yes I'll pick it up you listen on this phone."

Charles spoke into the receiver, "My daughter has just arrived home, and perhaps I could have her call you when she is rested?" There was a derisive laugh at the other end, "Mr Chandler, when I am through with your daughter she will have more than enough rest. Please bring her to the phone."

Carefully from her position in the study Catherine signalled to Vincent who in turn signalled to Charles who coughed loudly into the receiver as Catherine picked up the other telephone to disguise the sound, and then sure that Vincent had taken the receiver from Charles she asked, "Hello, this is Catherine, who's calling please?"

The sound of his laughter almost made Catherine sick. She would know it anywhere. It had lived in her nightmares ever since that evening on the mountain; she would never forget the tone of his voice. "Catherine, Catherine...welcome home. Have you had a nice holiday? Got a nice tan have we? Had plenty of sunshine and lots of rest, good, good. Well I'd like to extend that for you, I'm offering you the chance of more rest and to change your skin colour another way." He laughed here sending chilling shivers up Catherine's spine, "mmm let me see now, I expect the Fiji sunshine has turned your skin the colour of golden honey, a colour I'm partial to, but I much prefer another. Would you like to know what?"

"No...not...really." Catherine stumbled nervously over the words. Again, the laughter chilled her to the bone, and Vincent clutching the other receiver had a hard time staying silent.

"Too bad, because I'm going to tell you anyway. How do you think red would suit you? Blood red? I think that would look rather stunning don't you? Of course there is another way."

"What...way?" Trying desperately hard not to lose her courage Catherine asked the question while dreading the answer.

"That you extract your statement from the police, refuse to give evidence should they ever catch me. You see Catherine you and your father stumbled upon an incident that should have lain unnoticed like the rest." Briefly he paused here, before adding quickly, "It had nothing to do with you...had you of left well alone you're life could have been spared, still could be spared. What do you say?"

Her mind in overdrive, Catherine spoke cautiously "You tried to kill me, how can I trust you now?" What had he meant by 'like the rest' had he murdered others and left them on the mountain?

"We have to build up a rapport between us, Catherine. You show me you are willing to co- operate and I will do likewise."

"Huh and what of the woman you murdered at my doctor's surgery?"

"Yet to be proven Catherine."

"You left my father a message, for God's sake! You wrote to the newspapers! How much more proof do you need?"

"Still doesn't mean it was me. There are such things as copycats, Catherine. Still I can only be thankful that whomsoever posted those messages did me a favour; they brought you running home did they not? By the way, who’s your friend?"

"My friend?" Catherine's voice wavered.

"The one you came home with. Is he your lover?" The question was asked with obvious interest.

Vincent seethed, his heart hammering. He wanted to reach through the receiver and squeeze the life out of the fellow for insinuating such obscenities. So acutely embarrassed Vincent was surprised to hear Catherine reply, "And what if he is? What's that to you?"

Lovers. The word sprang out at Vincent, caught him by the throat. He found it hard to breathe, to think. His knuckles grasped the receiver for dear life as much as for something to hold on to as to hear what else was to be said.

"I'm just surprised that's all. Rather large is he not? Is he well endowed too?"

At this, Vincent could not prevent a gasp from escaping and he felt deep shame when the caller laughed derisively, "Listening in huh? Serves him right. So let me ask you a question then Mr Big, what does it feel like to penetrate little Miss Chandler here? What does it feel like to have her virginal muscles hold you tight...her arms around you...her lips on yours? Hmm? Tell me?" There was a sound as he spoke, the sound of a zipper. Catherine, shame on her cheeks visualised what his words were doing to him then visualised what they would be doing to Vincent. She was acutely embarrassed and did not know what to say or do save smashing the phone down. But she knew she must not do that, she had to find out what made this guy tick and she hoped that her father had had the good sense to have his phone rigged with the police department.

"Then tell me please, can you imagine how it would feel to enter her body when it is ripped open and her hot blood runs the length of your shaft?" He moaned then making his actions along with his filthy wicked words obvious. Vincent was incensed, his fury roaring through his ears, his breathing coming hard and fast reminiscent to that at which he was forced to listen.

Ragged words came bit by bit then, "I'll... tell... you... shall... I?"

"NO!" Both Vincent and Catherine screamed as one, making the caller laugh before telling them, "Then you'll just have to wait and see won't you? Bye for now Catherine, I'll be in touch." He laughed sinisterly, "that is, touch being the operative word." Then he hung up leaving both Catherine and Vincent shaking with anger, fear and so much embarrassment that each dreaded facing the other.

"I think you're mad, you're utterly, utterly mad. Catherine, you can't be serious!" Charles Chandler searched his daughter's face avidly some days later hoping against hope that she was in some malicious way joking about her latest suggestion.

"Think about it, daddy. Where's the place I'm least likely to go? We have to outwit this guy. I, none of us, know when he may strike, and I know..." she looked at Vincent as she went on, "that you will endeavour to protect me Vincent, but what if you are too late, or he is faster than you supposed, what then?"

"You don't have to sell me Catherine. I think it is a good idea to go back to the cabin." Vincent told her sincerely.

"Well I don't!" Charles reminded her of the conversation they had shared with him after the killer had called. “You said yourself that you thought he had killed other people up there. He might think you are fishing by going up there to see what else you can find."

"We have to go, daddy." Catherine's voice was determined, "its either him or me. Here we have to wait for the law to do its bit, there Vincent can protect me."

"What are you saying?" Charles felt he was missing something. Just what had these two cooked up between them?

"You had the telephone tapped, daddy. But did the police catch him? No. Maddening isn't it? He was on the phone for well over three minutes yet by the time they realised what was going on and sent someone to the spot he'd long gone. Imagine if that had been a meeting between him and me that had been set up. By the time they had arrived I'd have been killed twice over."

"And so? Just what is it that you are planning, when you say its him or me? You don't intend to...kill...him. Do you?" He looked to Vincent for his answer.

"You of all people know we ought not take the law into our own hands daddy, but you are also well aware of the system. Let's say he's caught. He'll be sent to prison, maybe even to some rehabilitation centre where some religious group will get hold of him, have him declare he has changed, and a few years from now he'll be a free man spouting words from the bible and begging forgiveness. And what of the scripture that admonishes a life for a life? Simply forgotten I suppose. And when he kills again as he undoubtedly will, and probably it'll be me, someone will say that hard times gave him a relapse and he will be given another light sentence. While people have lost their lives through him, endured horrendous torture before death from what I am led to believe, and what? We are supposed to allow him justice? Offer him treatment? I think not daddy, I think not."

Charles had listened to his daughter with quiet acceptance of the things she had said. She was right, but knowing that and heeding it were two entirely different things. Being a lawyer he was trained to protect the rights of people, but Catherine was right, if they protected the rights of killers who protected the rights of their innocent victims? Still she had not, in so many words, indicated whatever it had been that she and Vincent had decided, and suddenly Charles wasn't sure that he wanted to know. And though he wore gloves now Charles knew that one look at Vincent's long claws would be enough to know the outcome. Still he felt compelled to ask; "Have you done anything like this before, my boy?"

"Killed someone you mean?" Vincent asked softly, shaking his head even as he spoke. "No, but I feel deep inside that if provoked enough it is a strong possibility."

"And you wouldn't let Catherine out of your sight?"

"No Sir, I would not."

"There's something else daddy."

"What?"

"This may sound strange, but for some reason Vincent is able to detect my feelings. He knows when I am happy or sad or frightened, and more importantly he knows where to find me every time." Catherine smiled at this remembering the hide and seek games she had played with Vincent convinced that he would never discover her location. He always had.

"Yes, you are right. That does sound strange, but if it works then it sure eases my mind. However, I can't let you go up there alone Catherine, I have to come with the two of you."

Catherine and Vincent smiled at one another. They had half expected Charles to say this and though neither would admit to it, each felt relieved that he would be there, acting as much as a chaperone to them as another protector to his daughter.

"The thing is, he appears to be watching us. This is something that bothers me greatly." Vincent admitted. "That night I came here with Catherine, I came via the rooftops, only dropping myself down when I reached the house adjacent to this one, meeting Catherine at the gate and coming up to the door with her. Even then I kept to the shadows as much as possible. Sir, Catherine and I were wondering if he may have a camera positioned on the house and can see who is coming and going."

While they pondered this possibility, the telephone rang.

"Hello, Charles Chandler."

"Good evening Mr Chandler." A chill ran the length of Charles's spine. It was him!

"Leave us alone you bastard!" Charles slammed down the receiver. Vincent and Catherine gasped, "Was that him?" Catherine asked needlessly even as the shrill of the telephone sounded again. Vincent lifted it up and putting it to his ear listened cautiously.

"Not you. Put Catherine on!" Vincent gasped. How did he know? Frantically he searched the hallway. There were no windows. He dropped the receiver back onto its cradle severing the call.

"He knew it was me!" Vincent whispered hoarsely with eyes wide and incredulous.

Again, the telephone rang. This time Catherine reached for it and placing it to her ear the caller shocked her to the core as her told her, "Give your friend ten out of ten for observation. I am surprised that neither you nor your father discovered that I can see everything, and hear everything that is going on in your house. And may I say how delectable you look naked, my dear Catherine. Its a pity I can't say the same for your father." He laughed derisively before continuing, "Can't quite work out your friend though, Catherine. He never takes off his cloak and I've tried and tried to establish what's wrong with him, but that hood very cleverly disguises his face. Ask him where I can purchase such a garment will you? In my line of business it would prove very useful."

Anxiously Catherine tried making gestures to Vincent to indicate that he should use the telephone in the study yet it were her emotions that told him what she wanted. He strode from the room and the caller laughed, "Wants to hear what I have to say does he? That's okay. I have some questions for him actually."

Feeling extremely vulnerable now, Catherine waited anxiously for Vincent to pick up the phone in the study, listening in as the caller obviously now well aware that Vincent was in place began, "So you think you can out wit me? Perhaps kill me? This I would greatly like to see. Do you enjoy hunting Vincent?"
Vincent refused to reply though his anger was rising by the second.

"I do hope so. This is going to be one enjoyable experience I have to admit just you three in that cabin and me waiting outside, oh dear, but where outside? Will I be there ahead of you? Will you arrive first or will we both arrive together in the dead of the night? This is sounding more and more appealing Vincent, the thing is you overlook the fact that I might use a gun."

Catherine gasped. They shouldn't have overlooked that possibility. If he were to gun down Vincent and her father then she would have no one to protect her. The thought of being at the cabin suddenly took on a distinctly evil flavour and for the first time since Catherine had decided that this was a good idea she began to see that it wasn't. Besides, they still had to speak to Vincent's father about it. There was a great possibility that even with all the loopholes ironed out, that Vincent would be forbidden to go, even if at nineteen, he was considered an adult to do as he wished.

Feeling sick Catherine replaced the receiver, and Vincent hearing the distinctive click did likewise with the phone in the study. Wide eyed the three came together back in the hall afraid to speak knowing that he would hear every word.

Finally Charles leaned against Vincent's shoulder put his face almost inside the hood and whispered against his ear, "Do you know how to get to the tunnels via Peter's basement. I know he has a key, but I don't know where it’s kept."

Vincent nodded, and reaching for Catherine's hand tried to instil the plan to her via their connection. It wasn't easy, for while he could read her emotions, she could not do likewise, however his eyes told her to trust him, and nodding she made him understand that whatever her father had said and whatever idea they had come up with she was ready and willing to place her trust in it without question.