Catee's Grace

by Keith Holmes

  “No thank you,” he replied as he lifted a fork and took a look at the simple breakfast before him. As he dipped a knife into some jam the Sister spoke once again.

  “Jahleel…,” she paused, wondering how she’d tell him this, “ehh… Telephone’.” She made the universal sign for telephone as she spoke the word.

  Ethan was relieved. He didn't know if the knight had stolen away - if he was on his own. He wished that he knew how to thank her in her own language. Instead he nodded and smiled to her.

  ***

  Jahleel sat on the edge of an old chair before a desk in the priory's 'business office'. As a Knight, he was instructed to communicate with his order solely through his Chronica but should he be unable and the matter was urgent, all Vigilant were given a secret number to memorize. Just using it gave him chills as it rang and rang again. Finally a recording answered.

  “Speak brother,” it said, followed by a beep. Jahleel’s brow hardened as he listened, ill prepared for the speed at which he’d have his opportunity to speak.

  “This is Jahleel. Salim is dead. The police seek me. I will aid the father in searching for the child.” With that he hung up, sitting back for a moment as he considered his future. His days as Paris' Vigilant were likely over with the police after him. He'd lost his best friend and an Argent Child all in the same day. He wondered where they'd relocate him or even if they would, given what had happened on his watch.

  Jahleel shook his head before he allowed it to sink into pity. There was still hope so long as there was breath in him. He stood and tucked a newspaper beneath his arm as he made his way down to the dining room.

  ***

  Ethan was enjoying his breakfast when a newspaper flopped to the table before him. His eyes widened as he picked it up to see his own face, along with Jahleel’s on the front page. He stared at it for a moment before crumpling it into his lap, looking to the Knight as he sat.

  "What does it say?" Ethan asked in a hushed tone, looking around to make sure no one was staring.

  "That we are wanted for kidnapping and murder," Jahleel delivered.

  Ethan's face became indignant but something else took his attention. Jahleel, upon death's door just hours before, was vibrant and well. Jahleel followed Ethan's glare to his stomach and chuckled.

  “Told ya.”

  Ethan shook his head. He didn't like things beyond the pale, though he'd been forced to witness many in these last few days. He wouldn't speak of it further though.

  "Who'd we murder?" he asked.

  "Salim, your wife, several policemen...."

  “Now what?" Ethan asked, defeated.

  “We’re going to find your daughter,” Jahleel assured.

  “But…,” Ethan shrugged.

  “The Police Cap’n… Adele’… bet he’d have some clues wouldn’t you?”

  Ethan sat back in a chair as he absorbed the idea, checking once again to make sure no eyes or ears were upon them.

  “But how do we get to a Police Captain?” he asked.

  “Leave that to me,” Jahleel replied, glancing to Ethan’s half eaten breakfast. “Eat up,” he instructed. “You’ll need your strength.”

  "Not very hungry," he said, though his stomach growled anyway.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Tara squatted behind her daughter, holding the child’s long hair out of the way as the little one vomited in the toilet of their Austrian train. The young mother was beside herself. Catee had cried herself to sickness for the third time since they left Paris. Tara squeezed her tired eyes shut as Catee turned to climb back into her arms.

  “I want go back home. I want go see Daddy. Him needs me Mommy.”

  Tara’s chin quivered a little as she sighed.

  “We’ve already been through this baby. Something’s wrong with Daddy and we can’t be with him right now. We’ll be with him soon. Until then, Joli’ and her friends are gonna take good care of us.”

  Catee pulled away to look into her mother’s eyes, her body starting to quiver as she began crying again.

  “I just wanna see Daddy. Him needs me,” she cried, quietly as her voice was hoarse and nearly gone. Again Tara pulled her into a hug, pleading with her.

  “Please Catee… please stop crying. You’re making yourself sick.”

  She stood, lifting Catee in the process and walked to her cabin where she found Joli’ on her cell phone. As the two of them entered, she quickly hung up and offered a sympathetic faux-frown.

  “Can I talk to you?” Tara asked.

  “Of course,” Joli' replied as Tara sat Catee in the opposite seat. The young mother remained standing as she considered her words.

  “I don’t think I can go through with this. I mean, Catee’s never been sick before, and the way things went with Ethan… you said he wouldn’t be hurt.”

  Joli’ took Tara’s hands and ushered her to sit by her side.

  “I know what you’re going through right now Tara. I’ve been there too. But you have to focus on the good side of this. You won’t be apart from Ethan forever. Captain Adele’ will make sure he’s not harmed and once he’s away from the Vigilant’s influence, he’ll be the Ethan you know and love again.”

  Tara looked away, staring out of the window over her shoulder. Then her eyes moved to Catee who had curled into a ball on her seat.

  “But… Catee…”

  “Is scared,” Joli interrupted, “and nervous just like you. I hate that she saw what happened last night. It’s the reason she’s so worried about her father. But she’ll be comfortable soon enough. And she won’t be away from him for too much longer.” Joli’ reached up and tucked a strand of disheveled hair lovingly behind the young mother’s ear. Then she cupped Tara’s cheek in her palm and looked deeply into her eyes. “You’re doing the right thing for your family Tara. You may not realize it now, but you’ll see.”

  Tara nodded softly then moved to her daughter’s side, picking her up and putting her in her lap.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Captain Adele’ stood curbside at the airport, tipping a porter who was claiming his luggage as he finished the last remnants of a cigarette. Taking one last, long drag he tossed the butt to the ground and straightened the lapel of his overcoat before making his way inside, a spring in his step and a smile on his face.

  Whistling a tune, he paused at a newsstand and picked up a copy of the daily. Its front page broadened his smile. He tossed a few coins on the counter and tucked the paper under his arm, then he made his way to the Departures/Arrival Board.

  Checking his departure and its slight delay was the only thing that caused him to frown and even then only briefly. His trip to Vienna and ultimately, the arms of his mistress could wait a few more minutes. Turning in place his eyes scanned the airport for a new target and he found it in the form of a sign that read simply, ‘Men’.

  He’d purchased the paper for something to read on the short flight to Vienna but it served the same purpose here. He fluttered its pages open when he heard the sound of boots clicking across cold tile. He thought little of it until he heard the door shut and its lock click into place.

  “Bonjour?” he said, more an announcement than a question. “There is someone in here. You’ll have to clean later,” he insisted, but no reply was given.

  Instead those boots, slow and measured in their gait began echoing again.

  Adele’ shifted side-to-side trying to look through the cracks in the stall door but he could make nothing out. His hand atop the pistol holstered at his chest, he wondered if he was just being paranoid.

  The two pairs of boots, clicking in unison finally diverged just before Adele’, one entering the stall next to him, the other paused before him.

  Wary, he pulled his gun and spoke.

  “I am the Captain of the Paris Police Force!” he said, command in his timbre. “What do you want?”

  But as he spoke the 'pair of boots' before him grabbed hold of the top of his stall door and gave it a shake. Adele’s
hand was quivering as he pointed the weapon to the center of the door.

  “Mr. Moyer? Vigilant? Don’t make me kill you in this bathroom! What a sad place to die!” his voice was quaking as he pulled the hammer back on his pistol. Suddenly the sound of steel punching through steel sliced into his hearing.

  It happened in a blur, a glint of immaculately polished blade passing through the flimsy wall of the stall. It crossed before the Captain's face, skewering his arm and pinning it to the adjacent wall. Tendons sliced, the gun fell to the floor as he cried out in fear and pain.

  Adele’s eyes grew wide as he stared at the sword before him, it etched with a silvery Cross Pattee, the symbol of the Vigilant. A boot lifted and crashed against the door to the stall, sending it bursting open, nearly off its own hinges. Ethan stood before him, rage in his eyes.

  “Where’s my family?” Ethan demanded, speaking through gritted teeth. He didn’t bother to give Adele’ time to answer, lifting his boot once again to send it crashing to the Captain’s face. Blood spurted from Adele's nose as Ethan snatched up a tuft of hair and growled once more. “Where is my family?”

  But as he looked into the Captain’s dazed eyes the thick, coppery smell of blood assaulted him. Ethan’s head began to float, lost for the moment in a strange sensation that set his body abuzz. He shook his head a few times to clear it and awaited the answer he sought.

  “Gone… all gone. Far from you and your Vigilant pigs,” Adele’ spouted groggily.

  “Where?” Ethan's voice wasn’t as commanding as before, the contents of his stomach churning as he fought the urge to vomit. Jahleel’s ears perked as he listened to Ethan’s waning vigor and moved to check on him. Ethan offered a sick glance before retreating and leaning against a sink. Jahleel turned to his friend's murderer.

  “Where are you going Captain?” he asked softly and began searching Adele’s pockets, snatching a plane ticket. He opened it and read it aloud. “First class to Vienna? Fetchin' your reward like a good little lap dog?”

  Adele’s groused and spat at the Vigilant.

  "Better a lap dog than a dead one."

  Jahleel wiped bloody spittle from his cheek as he knelt before his captive and put his hand on the back of the sword's blade. He looked into Adele's eyes and then he began to twist it.

  “Ahh! You have what you want! Now why don’t you go!” the Captain screamed, grabbing for his wrist with his free hand.

  “But I don’t, do I? Because I need to know where to go once I get to Vienna,” he paused waiting to capture Adele's attention again. “Tell me that and you won’t die with your pants around your ankles today.”

  The Captain grew distraught as he turned over the idea of betraying his mistress. Finally he shook his head.

  “They’ll kill me,” he said bluntly, on the verge of tears.

  “I’ll kill you,” Jahleel promised.

  Adele’s head dipped forward as his chest heaved a time or two. Without looking the Knight in the eyes again, he muttered a single phrase.

  “Weiden am See”.

  Jahleel nodded softly and stood. The room grew quiet, all save Adele's whimpers. The knight turned to check on Ethan when thoughts of Salim filled his mind, his last words playing over in his head. He thought about the loss of his post, about a little girl, about a confused young mother and he snapped.

  Ethan lifted queasy eyes to the knight about to explain the illness when suddenly Jahleel turned. He took hold of the sides of the stall and kicked Adele' in the face. Then he did it again, and again, as though he were trying to stomp the life out of the man.

  "Jahleel...," Ethan called, quiet and ill.

  But the Vigilant seemed possessed with anger.

  "JAHLEEL!" the young father managed.

  Rather than acknowledge the call, the knight simply stopped and spun to the other stall to retrieve his sword.

  “Now they can’t follow us,” he said coldly, ripping the sword back through the wall of the stall.

  Ethan looked on in wide-eyed shock. Adele' was unrecognizable, his face a bloody mess. But, that horror aside, what bothered the young father was the loud smell of blood. It seemed to enter his nostrils and cause his head to tighten and lighten at once. He could feel his heart racing, his own blood pulsing in his ears.

  Suddenly a gurgled gasp shook Adele's body and his chest heaved. Ethan leapt back, nearly losing his feet.

  “He’s not dead!” Ethan shouted.

  “I kill monsters Ethan, not men. Not when I can help it.”

  Jahleel placed a hand again on Ethan’s shoulder to help him steady.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I just feel weird,” he replied. “I’ll be okay.”

  “Then we have to go. There’s no time to waste.”

  "Where are we going?" Ethan inquired.

  "To catch a train."

  CHAPTER FOURTY-ONE

  Catee slept again as they rode in the backseat of a Bentley Limousine. It was another drug-induced nap that Tara lamented with each passing mile. The car was filled with uncomfortable silence as it wound through the country roads of a picturesque Austrian hamlet; Weiden am See.

  The ride from the train station lasted only about twenty minutes, winding through beautiful country that offered many views of the Neusiedler See, a beautiful lake anytime of the year but especially in winter. A fresh snow had fallen that brightened Tara’s spirits some but nothing would draw her mind completely from the unhappiness her little one had discovered. Each foot the car drove was a foot further from Ethan and a foot deeper in Catee’s misery.

  The car pulled into a private drive protected by a large iron gate that opened at the command of the driver, and then slowly they pulled down the winding road of the estate.

  It was truly magnificent, lined with old growth trees, manicured and decorated with statues and statuettes of cherubim and various displays of goddesses from every mythos, forever memorialized in stone by masterfully skilled hands.

  Tara looked like a child, her head twisting from one direction to the other. A look of hope and wonder filled her tired face, bringing a smile to Joli’s. “You haven’t seen anything yet,” she said, nodding in the direction of the house that emerged from the trees.

  Tara gasped when she saw it.

  “It used to be a Nunnery,” Joli chuckled, “but we’ve cleaned it up a bit.”

  The years had obviously been kind to the old priory, given aid by wealthy, gentle hands. The cream-colored building jutted three stories skyward with a tower sloped inward and capped with a bell house.

  At first glance there seemed a thousand windows in the place, each in Bavarian style and flanked by shutters of green. Beneath the perfect symmetry of the windows the building was lined with well-tended landscaping and ivy stretched upward, climbing the walls and giving a sense of peace and natural grace.

  Her first thought was to wake Catee so that she could be awed as well but as she placed her hand on the little one’s shoulder to rouse her she remembered the nature of the nap.

  At the grand entrance the Catholic cross that once hung in the center of the portico had been removed, replaced by some odd design that Tara didn’t notice really, let alone recognize. The new symbol, that of the Sponsas Draco was a representation of the infinite circle. Inside that circle, there was a concaved, inverted ‘peace symbol' with a V-chalice at its base.

  Joli’ smiled to Tara as the two exited the car, greeted by a young woman. “Hello Sasha, how are you today?” Joli’ greeted.

  “Hello Priestess. It’s a beautiful day isn’t it?” Sasha replied, taking a moment to gently rub Catee’s back.

  “It is… and it’s getting more beautiful all the time. Could you see Tara to her room? I have some things I must attend to.” With that Joli’ turned to Tara and smiled. “Just smell the air Tara. And tell me you don’t feel the peace in this place.”

  Tara took a breath and nodded as Joli brushed her fingers through Catee’s hair.

  “You’re doing
the right thing,” she reassured, and then turned to Sasha with a nod before heading off into the building.

  Sasha and Tara watched as Joli disappeared through the doors.

  “She is an amazing woman,” Sasha muttered.

  Tara nodded in agreement as Sasha took her by the hand, entwining their fingers.

  “This must be Catee?” she asked as she looked to the child and began leading the pair into the mansion.

  Tara smiled, her eyes looking about at all the expensive appointments, dressings, and furnishings - a French antique theme. Several rooms were occupied by women young and old, entertaining themselves, many of whom smiled to the trio, exchanging quiet whispers as they passed.

  “Yeah, this is my baby. She’s having a hard time right now. Misses her daddy.”

  Sasha frowned when she heard the mention of Catee’s father but Tara didn’t notice as her eyes continued to marvel at the expensive artwork upon the walls; a recurring theme reflecting women of power and greatness: Joan of Arc, Queen Elizabeth… but one caught Tara’s eye. It was the only picture of a man in the place, albeit a “fair” man. It was obviously very old as the man was dressed in middle-ages garb, a crown upon his head.

  “Who’s that?” she queried, her head canting toward the painting.

  “Oh… that’s Philip the Fair, king of France,” Tara said with a bit of pride.

  “But why? I mean, all the other paintings are women.”

  “No… all of the paintings are of women!” Sasha giggled. “When you meet Claudia you’ll understand.”

  Satisfied for the moment, Tara returned to a faster pace up the grand staircase until they'd reached the third and highest floor.

  Tara and Catee were ushered into an efficiency condominium space, done in modern style. Tara’s eyes grew wide.

  “Don’t you love it?” Sasha asked gleefully, stepping into the room, her arms outspread as she turned a slow circle. "This is one of my favorite rooms in the whole house!"