'Do you want any children of your own?' Melissa asked her, 'it would be nice for Catherine to have a sister or brother, wouldn't it?'
'I'm afraid we cannot,' Adison admitted, 'I don't think Vincent can sire children, with his background. Most men without beards can't.
And besides, we have had a rough year, with a lot of danger, not just to Catherine, something bigger, and with evil witches on the loose and after her, to have another child stuck in the middle, what kind of life would that be for the little one?'
'You know my father is on to those witches, has he visited already?'
Melissa said, 'and we've had our share of troubles, too, with nasty magics involved. If there is ever any trouble you cannot handle, with Catherine in danger of getting involved, you come to us. We know people, powerful people.
Magic runs in families, and most of those families are high-born. I'm not, though my father has a lot of magic, but Paul is of the highest class, and we have two friends who have political power in the city, and incredible magics.
I will not hesitate to pull strings if you need me to. We have even fought magical creatures, and Lukas was very adept at killing them: he reversed his healing powers, boiled their blood, with devastating effect. Remember this when times get rough, will you?
Are we in any danger now, for consorting with you?'
This thought upset Adison, clearly she had never thought of that. But Melissa knew that despite a few months of magic training, and several confrontations with a bunch of dark witches, Adison still had no real clue of what magic could do. Vincent and Bruce were formidable fighters, but in a truly hot spot Melissa could obliterate them with magic in a heartbeat.
'I'm not afraid, Adison, but if things get too hot for you to handle, please let us know, all right?'
'I will, Melissa, thank you for offering,' Adison said, 'your father has
already visited and he is willing to help us, actually he says it is his sworn duty to help us, and he seems very capable, thank you so much for putting him on our trail.
A totally different matter, but may I ask whether you have someone planned to supervise your birthing?'
Of course that would interest Adison, she was a doctor after all.
'I have, actually, but she has to come from a long way away, and sometimes I worry if she will make it in time. Babies don't always stick to the rules after all. Of course Lukas will certainly be there, and he is perfectly capable, but still, I'd rather have a woman around, someone with experience in delivering babies.'
'If she doesn't make it, just send word, and I will be there for you. With our bicycles it's less than half an hour's ride. Few babies arrive within half an hour, and if they do, it is an easy birth that anyone can handle.'
'True, thank you for the offer, it makes me feel safe. I trust Aphrodite with anything, but she may be busy or unable to hear our message. She's like Lukas, she heals with magic. But of course you know about that, he tells me you are getting quite proficient yourself.'
'I am progressing nicely, yes, I'm starting to recognize some of the things he has shown me,' Adison said, 'I think I may offer to accompany him on one of his haunts, and do my own share of charity healing. I'd want to bring Vincent for protection, though.'
'Very wise,' Melissa observed, 'those are not neighbourhoods you want to concentrate on a patient without someone to guard your back. And padlock your bicycle. Lukas'd be thrilled to take you along, show you what he does.'
John seemed to have heeded their advice, lavishing time and energy on Frances, helping her to let the coffee seedlings thrive, trying to grow olive trees from the stones of Hermes' olives, growing other demanding plants, and just tending the gardens outside, where spring had arrived, and weeds tried to overcome Frances' beloved plants.
And as the garden thrived, John thrived, growing fatter but also more muscular, joining their arms-practice, not back to his old weight, but not drinking nearly enough wine to manage that, ever.
He worked too hard, cycled everywhere, joined Lukas in his healing expeditions, improving his magic on this world, much more consciously than he had ever used it.
When the special power of harvesting the living energy from his
surroundings suddenly returned to him he was delighted, he could use ley-lines but didn't feel comfortable with the resistance large amounts of that kind of power gave. Apparently that had something to do with one's nature and the kind of magic one used: whereas she and Jonathan had never had any trouble using the feisty stuff, subjecting it to their wills and practising combative techniques with it, Lukas still wasn't comfortable with it, and Frances admitted she had learned to use it only after years of practice, and it still didn't feel right.
It seemed the mages who practised the milder kinds of magic, growing and healing magic, had more trouble taming the power from ley-lines than combative mages and mages who manipulated matter, like Paul and Melissa.
John shared his bed with Lukas regularly, and appeared really happy, not restless, not looking to return to Greece at all. He didn't settle either, he stayed in the apartment, but lived his own life, cycling where he wanted to be, which was usually Frances' garden.
Until, one week, he tackled their own backyard.
The carriage arrived from the manor, carrying Frances, Jonathan and a load of plants. Lukas and Paul were drafted for the heavy labour, and Melissa got to watch.
They cleared the whole yard of brambles and other weeds, and burnt them in a merry blaze. Then the gentlemen were set to work turning the soil, growling and muttering in Paul and Lukas' case, but there was no help for it.
After that, the carriage made another round and came back with a lovely seat and a beautiful tree. One got its place against the workshop back wall, the tree was planted in the middle of the plot, and then Lukas and Paul were dismissed.
The rest carefully laid out a path, and then started planting.
The result was stunning, and a month later, it was even better. Melissa spent a lot of time in that garden, resting her body but keeping her mind and sometimes her hands occupied. For Mr Jones had not forgotten her, but set her to work drawing designs and calculating them exactly, ready to build.
John kept up their garden magnificently, and was often good company for Melissa. He had let go of his fear and of his guilt, and lived a small life, like themselves.
Melissa's time was nearing, and she was contemplating warning Aphrodite to be on her guard for a summons.
Lukas did go to the basement one evening and called for her, and they spoke for a few minutes, and when he came back he was a little out of sorts.
'She was so happy to see me, I was almost embarrassed. But she is sweet, and she promised to be alert the coming weeks, she really wants to help you deliver the baby. Katarina isn't due for a long time yet, time does move more slowly there.
I didn't tell about John, no use for them to know, she may not even recognize him once she's here.'
Melissa had one more week to go when a message arrived from Mr Jones.
There was trouble at the glass-house, the owners complained that the boiler, the really large iron one, had functioned badly all through winter, failing several times, killing some expensive plants through exposure to cold. The manufacturer had tried to get it going several times, but the owners were fed up with the failures and wanted it working right now. There was still the possibility of night frosts, and they didn't want any more rare plants lost.
So Lukas and Paul went over there, bag of tools in hand, Mr Jones present to make the introductions and smooth things over. Eager to see another greenhouse, and expensive tropical plants, John asked to join them, and he was welcomed by the guys.
Melissa stayed at home, not pleased to do so, but really not up to any cycling anymore. She was counting the days, had a deal with a neighbour's kid to fetch Adison at a moment's notice, promising him an exciting ride on a bicycle and a few pennies.
As the men neared the greenhouse, John was suitably impressed
by the design, and by the lush vegetation inside it. It really rivalled Frances', though these were mainly for show, and Frances cultivated mostly useful plants, bearing fruits all through the year, especially with John's magic contributing to her knowledge.
Once inside, John let himself be introduced as a floral expert, then set out to explore. He had no knowledge at all of steam and boilers, besides the things one picked up living with boiler-experts, which was actually quite a lot.
Paul and Lukas went straight to the boiler after having been introduced to the owner, who accompanied them to see how they would handle themselves.
The huge thing had been left burning to help their investigation, and as they neared it both men could feel instantly that something was very wrong
with it, it buzzed with the emanations of cast iron that was flawed to the point of breaking.
Since Melissa had checked it herself, Paul knew it had been flawless at delivery, and the reason for it getting damaged in the first place soon became apparent. Paul had never seen it installed, but if he had, he would have raised the alarm straight away, for this thing lacked a pressure gauge, and a safety valve to let excess steam escape.
There was a lot of pressure on the boiler, that much was clear, but since it lacked a gauge, it was impossible to see how bad the situation was.
'Is it always this noisy?' Paul asked.
The owner looked rather blank, and replied: 'I guess it is, yes.'
Paul observed: 'This boiler is not safe, for it should have a device to show us how much pressure has built up inside it, it needs pressure to get the heat through the piping, but if there is too much pressure, the vessel can crack, or even explode. We have no way of knowing how bad the situation is, but I know the boiler itself is damaged, it makes a kind of noise that iron makes when it has developed cracks.
I have never made a boiler this big, nor one of cast iron, I prefer copper or bronze for boilers, but mostly because they look better.'
'How would you heat the glass palace then, Mr Kenwick?' the owner asked.
'I think I would use two medium sized boilers, that would be safer, and if the one should develop problems, the other can at least keep the frost out.
My wife did the inspection on this property, she checked this boiler for casting-flaws, and it was perfect on delivery. It must have been damaged by constant overpressure, so much hot water weighs a lot, and it develops a huge pressure. And because there is no safety-outlet, the pressure rises and rises, causing these invisible cracks to develop in the boiler.'
'So what is your verdict, Mr Kenwick?'
Paul answered: 'Without pressure gauge there is nothing sensible I can tell you, your boiler could be enduring too much pressure even now, and we wouldn't know it. It needs one at the very least, and it needs a safety valve, to vent steam in case the pressure builds too high. To prevent it from exploding, you know. You have been walking a narrow line, stoking a boiler with no idea what is going on inside.
And even if I were to install both these safety measures, I can hear the boiler itself is flawed, and cracked cast iron can fail at any time, again
causing a safety hazard.'
Paul stood for a moment, thinking.
'Maybe if you can send for a ladder, I could check the whole vessel inch by inch, to see how badly it is cracked, maybe it can be repaired.'
The owner left to find a ladder, and Mr Jones quickly asked: 'Can you save it? Just be honest, I'll break it to him.'
'We'll have to check it, I can hear a flaw in it, and that is not a good sign, but I can sometimes repair cracks safely,' Paul told him. 'But Rupert, this boiler was not installed properly, without pressure gauge and safety valve, that is very dangerous, you should not do business with these people again until they start putting safety measures on their equipment.'
Mr Jones said with determination: 'I do business with you, these days, Paul, not with them. I just want this problem solved, and I'll claim your bill from them.'
The ladder arrived, a free-standing one fortunately, for Paul would not have wanted to put his weight on a cracked piece of cast-iron, and as Lukas steadied it, Paul checked every inch of the beast with his sight. The thing was still rumbling, but not dangerously so, or so Paul thought, for there was no way to be certain.
The emanations of the iron gave a certain restfulness to Paul, as he went over square foot after square foot of cast iron without finding any flaws.
Totally concentrated on the iron, he did not notice Lukas' worried expression, or Mr Jones' rising feeling of restlessness.
'Lukas, is it supposed to make that sound?' he asked Paul's apprentice.
The young man answered: 'There is no way to know, sir, it seems pitched a little high, but boilers often make a lot of noise. That is why it should have pressure gauge. Maybe the gardener knows? He is out here most often.'
Eager to be doing something, Mr Jones went in search of the gardener, and found him deep in conversation with the little guy who had accompanied Paul.
They followed him immediately, and the gardener listened carefully and said: 'Sometimes it makes this noise, and I worry, for it sounds as if the pressure is building too high. I have let some steam out on occasions, through that screw over there.'
And he pointed at a pipe-end with a screw closing it.
'I was sure it would blow. After that, it was fine, but I guess they've filled
it again for this inspection, it has been unused for a few weeks until the master decided he wanted it checked before next winter. They've lit the fire a few hours ago, so it is not at its peak, it can sound even more high-pitched.
If you ask me, that is not a safe place to be right now, I'd let it come to its peak, let off some steam, then check it.'
Mr Jones knew enough, this gardener might be willing to risk his life and limbs with an unpredictable boiler, but he was not going to risk this beautiful project for a few hundred pounds. They would just have to buy a set of new, safe boilers from Paul this summer.
He called out to Lukas: 'Better tell Paul to come down, I don't trust this thing, it's not at its peak and it has been refilled recently, but this gardener has always let out some steam to keep it from building up too much. Will you get him down, Lukas?'
Lukas shook Paul's leg, hoping to get him out of his trance, and fortunately succeeding. As Paul looked down at Lukas, a bit dazed from using sight on cold iron, Lukas said: 'The gardener says it may not be safe, it's still heating, and he used to let steam out on a regular basis, but the owner has had it filled again.'
'Better come down, Paul, it is a lost cause to me, I'm going to have it replaced by two of yours,' Mr Jones called out.
And just as Paul started to descend the stairs, the boiler cracked from top to bottom and the thing sagged into itself, spilling gallon after gallon of superheated water all over the place.
On top of the ladder, Paul was spared, but below him, holding the ladder, Lukas got splashed badly.
It was over in seconds, with Mr Jones getting Paul from the ladder, stunned, and John bending over Lukas, who was in a bad state. His face and chest were scalded, skin reddened and already blistering, his pulse racing and fluttering.
Paul was shocked to his very core, but seeing that Lukas needed him he suppressed it and asked John: 'Can he heal himself enough to stay alive?'
John affirmed this, not daring to touch his beloved friend for fear of hurting him even further, but trusting Lukas' strong healing Gift.
'Then this is what we'll do, you sprint home, stick your head through the portal and call for Hermes and Aphrodite. When they arrive, tell them what has happened. Pray they arrive quickly. I'll bring Lukas home. Go, now!'
Taking Lukas in his arms, Paul could no longer keep up his cool demeanour His beloved looked horrible, terrible burns all over his face and hands, his shirt soaked and probably stuck to many more awful wounds, his face still and his breathing fast and shallow.
Paul flew in a panic and called out in desperation: 'Lu
kas, Lukas, my love, please wake up!'
There was no reaction, he should have kept John around, John was a god, he might be able to do something, and now he was gone. How could he have been so foolish!
Magic, he could use magic himself, maybe he could heal Lukas, but how?
He had never healed anyone, had always let Melissa accompany Lukas, he didn't know a thing. Lukas did not look very good, his life seemed to be fading slowly, and in desperation Paul called out: 'Lukas, Lukas, come to me!'
As always, that worked, his beloved friend opened his eyes, undamaged fortunately because they had been protected by his eyelids, but glazed with agonizing pain now he was conscious and could feel the terrible burns. The beloved dented mouth in the ruined face tried to scream, but no sound came.
It would not be long before he would lose consciousness again, this time maybe for good.
Paul whispered urgently, crying by now: 'Lukas, heal yourself out of danger, we'll get Aphrodite to do the rest.'
Seeing his friend start to glow, Paul linked with him, getting hit by an excruciating pain, trying to strengthen his beloved with his own will, and it seemed Lukas' body managed to battle the shock and heal the nerve-damage.
Then he passed out again.
'Rupert, I need a carriage, right now, to my own home, quickly.'
Mr Jones, almost beside himself, collected his wits and followed instructions: 'My own is waiting, but shouldn't we take him to a doctor?'
'I have a doctor at hand, the only one who can save his looks, a normal doctor will leave his face ravaged.'
Lifting his friend carefully, but causing him to moan in pain despite his care, Paul shut down his feelings and ran after Mr Jones, to the carriage waiting at the road.
Within five minutes they were at home, where Melissa was waiting at the door, intensely worried but not hysterical. As she saw Lukas, she nearly fainted, but she managed to hold on and ran upstairs before him, opening
doors and removing obstacles.
She spoke as she ran, an incredible feat in her condition, and gasped:
Past Lives Page 49