Nature Or Nurture Ch 62 64

Of course they discuss the play and the ruckus around Mr Wilde, the playwright having acted out the whole scene for the lot of them, but after that the conversation turns towards Mr Grey and mostly Father Nicholas.

Whereas Vincent and Adison are inclined to take Father Nicholas' words very seriously, George is not worried. Not about himself, Tristan, Paul and his parents that is. Being upper class they have the means and the privacy to continue to practise magic without anyone being able to even approach them. And since they are very influential in the city, they would have to be caught practising magic to get into trouble.

But for Jakob's circle and especially Lukas, who is using magic right in front of whole families, matters are a little different.

'If this Father Nicholas is the only one aware of Lukas using magic,' George observes, 'I am inclined to just have him removed from his office. I have connections who could have him transferred to Scotland within a week, no matter his rank in the Church. He knows too much, and you don't know him well enough to be sure he can be trusted, Vincent. Maybe we should even have him removed altogether.'

That is way too much for poor Lukas and he interjects, 'You are not going to banish or even murder Father Nicholas in my name, George! I know the Father myself, he does the same work I do, saving as many poor souls as he can, he deserves your respect, George, not your fear and as a result, casual interference in his life.

Without him, my task will become a lot harder, and the danger of being caught by witch-hunters is not over in the least. On the contrary, his successor will probably be of the kind that persecutes anyone with magic talent, regardless of the purpose he puts it to.'

George is a bit hurt by Lukas' rebuke, and he shows it.

'I'm not suggesting we murder someone in cold blood for nothing, Lukas, I'm only trying to protect you, you cannot afford to get taken even for questioning, you'll be executed without trial if they discover your hoofs. This Father Nicholas pretends to be a simple priest, but apparently he is someone totally different. You're so vulnerable out there.'

Lukas is affected by George's concern, but he's not going to agree, that much is clear.

'I suppose I will take Father Nicholas' advice and start lugging a bag with medicine about, maybe you can help me compose a very professional looking one, Adison?'

Of course Adison is very willing to help Lukas look like a real doctor, and she tells him, 'I still have an old doctor's bag from when I just started, Lukas. I couldn't bear throwing it out being rather attached to it, but I'd rather give it to you than let it gather dust under our bed. I'll make a list of truly useful medicine, and I can compose some strong-smelling fake ones.

Can you fetch it the day after tomorrow? And bring some new bottles to replace the ones I'm using, I'm giving you my older ones to look authentic.'

Their cheeky friend nods affirmatively, not looking so cheeky now, and he continues in a serious tone.

'I suppose I'll have to give up my dream of having a practice, and just suffer the cold. Too bad. But then, I have a warm house to return to, and people I love to warm my bed, so I guess I have little reason to complain.'

Vincent totally understands George's reaction to Lukas having been found out, even by just one man, but to murder the poor Father or have him transferred, that should only be done if no other solution remains.

'Why don't we just talk to the Father and see what he proposes, George?' Vincent says, 'you can always take your kind of measures after our meeting. We'll try to find out how much he knows about Jakob's circle, they are much more vulnerable than you nobles are.'

'And Father Nicholas wants to get rid of your former master as much as you do, Vincent,' Lukas adds.

But in fact, Vincent would prefer to just ignore this whole master business, he doesn't want to look for trouble anymore, he is happy as he is, and he doesn't believe the Master can or wants to do him harm, he didn't even end Dorian Grey's miserable existence.

Strangely enough, all the others agree on the Master needing to be dealt with, even Adison, who should be more forgiving than normal people, being a priestess. They cannot bring the Master to justice, so 'dealing with' usually ends up with Vincent killing another human being, something he actually wants to avoid ever doing again very badly.

Maybe George's way isn't so bad after all, but just Scotland, not assassination.

'You need to be in bed, dad.'

Catherine's voice is sweet, and she is right, he is very tired, and too much has happened for one night. There will be another day tomorrow, in which he may read the first official review on his acting in a newspaper, or not.

He doesn't know which would be worse, not getting mentioned at all or possibly getting a bad review. Never mind, it will keep until tomorrow.

The others are leaving, it's late and it has started snowing again, and Victor has already stepped outside to hail a cab, while Mina pays their bill. Adison helps Vincent into his coat.

'You leave your bicycle at St James', join us in our cab. You're tired, you need a good night's sleep before you face the reviews tomorrow.'

And she kisses him and strokes his raven black hair from his face, pausing to caress the large scar on his right temple, then relishing the smoothness of his cheeks. Not having a beard does have its advantages.

He gets a few kisses as well, a promise of more to come once they are home. When Victor comes in to tell them a cab is ready, Adison leads Vincent by the hand, almost asleep on his feet. Still he has no trouble holding Catherine in his arms, her weight is nothing to him, and every time she feels his hold slack just the tiniest of bits, she kisses his cheek and he wakes up a little and firms his grip.

Thus they reach the carriage, and as soon as he sits against Adison, with Catherine on his lap, he drops off.

He is walking in the pitch dark with just one other person, a dark shadow right behind him, they are navigating a maze of dark alleys, following the shadows of the houses to stay unnoticed, the person behind him very adept at this. Heathcliff himself is not the kind to hide, he infinitely prefers open warfare to sneaking around in the dark, but the Master insisted on secrecy and Heathcliff is bound to follow his orders, though he finds it rather despicable.

What can be hiding in that case his companion is carrying that it needs to be sneaked through the city in the dark? Why not just carry it by broad daylight and be less suspicious? Or bribe someone in the watch to look the other way at the right moment? Heathcliff knows the Master has done that before, what is the use of this?

His companion is a beautiful young man, strangely attractive, but not very friendly. When Heathcliff arrived at the pub where he was supposed to meet his contact, the young man refused to even shake hands or introduce himself.

'Better get to business straight away, my good man,' he said in an arrogant upper class accent. Somehow that made Heathcliff feel disappointed rather than angry, ever since Cathy died some six months ago he has been fighting through life against his will, there is nothing keeping him here, without his love his life is dark and meaningless. But this young man seemed to put some heart in him somehow.

That was probably indigestion anyway, he's never had a thing for men, so that quick flutter inside him must have been something he ate tonight.

And what would an arrogant upper class dandy want with a scruffy guy like him anyway? He'd only get his clothes all smudgy. Where did the Master find a guy like that anyway?

One would say someone with a good education would know to steer clear of a person like the Master, outgoing and friendly, but reeking of deceit. If Heathcliff hadn't been in dire need of making a living when he first came to the city with Cathy, exhausted and totally naïve, if he had had any life-experience outside Wuthering Heights, he would never have fallen for the fatherly man's slick babble.

If only Heathcliff had not been so primed to trust middle-aged handsome men by having been saved off the streets by Cathy's father, he might not have fallen under the Master's spell.

They are making good time, the shape following him is keeping up well, just one last inhabited area and they're clear. Heathcliff often visits a place in this neighbourhood, to talk to Father Nicholas, a clergyman of all people, who has managed to obtain some of his trust, not by being handsome and middle-aged or making promises, but by taking care of the poor in this quarter.

Many clergymen just wear the cloth to make an income, or to preach to their fellow humans, but Father Nicholas is the real thing, committed to his calling, always working to better the fate of the many who cannot take care of themselves.

Why he bothers with Heathcliff, who can take care of himself just fine, thank you, and who obviously has a not entirely honest profession, is not at all clear to him, but Heathcliff enjoys his talks with the Father.

When Cathy died he received a great deal of honest compassion from the Father, and no platitudes of her being in a better place, or admonishments to improve his life to gain entrance to that same place after life.

If Heaven and Hell indeed exist, Heathcliff knows where Cathy resides now, and Heathcliff need not earn the right to join her there. His place there is already assured.

A quiet voice behind him pulls him out of his musings.

'Watch out, mister, someone is out there!'

He knows, it's one of the resident beggars, an old man whom Father Nicholas has tried to place in a shelter for the homeless for some time now, but without success. The man seems to want to live out the little time he has left in the streets. Heathcliff doesn't blame him, better live briefly in freedom, than long but fettered by the religious conventions and duties of the shelters.

'I know, it's a harmless beggar, an old man.'

And walks on briskly.

An even softer voice behind him.

'I'm sorry, I'll trust you from now on.'

That is rather nice, Heathcliff never trusts anyone if he can help it, and he would advise this young noble to do the same. But he's not going to, this is just a job, and the quicker they walk on, the quicker he can go back to his home and drown his memories in whatever booze he can find in his house.

He has no need to work for a living anymore, he only takes these jobs because he cannot deny the Master his services, on punishment of... he doesn't even know, and frankly he doesn't care. The habit of obeying him is just too strong.

Leaving the beggar behind Heathcliff can feel someone watching him, not from behind but in front and to the right, on their side of the street. They will have to pass the person watching them, so Heathcliff slows down and raises one hand as a sign to his companion that something is amiss. Hand on his saber he decides to use his own favourite tactic, pretend nothing is happening, and projecting 'innocent passerby' with all his might he just walks on, past the onlooker, until a sonorous voice calls out.

'Mr Heathcliff! So good to see you!'

It's Father Nicholas' voice, he must have seen him coming, somehow that clergyman has an uncanny ability to spots certain things, like someone who is good at not being seen, trying to hide in the shadows. Ignoring him will be very suspicious, and Heathcliff gestures at his companion to stay put, and traces his footsteps back to the Father.

Father Nicholas shakes his hand with affection, and observes, 'You're out late, as usual. I've just tried once more to get old Bob under a roof, but to no avail. Who's your companion?'

Knowing virtually nothing about the man he is supposed to lead to the Master's house in safety, he cannot give the Father an honest answer, and he is not going to lie despite the sensitive situation.

'Never mind,' the clergyman states, 'I apologize for prying, it's none of my business anyway. But Heathcliff...'

That sounds serious.

'Do not let that man touch you. Will you do that for me? Trust me, you wouldn't like the results. I can see some of the things going on around you, and I'm sorry I cannot help you, same as I cannot seem to help old Bob. But don't let that handsome young noble lay a hand on you even if you're aching to have him touch you. Good night, Heathcliff, see you around!'

Going back to where his companion is waiting, still carrying the package of whatever is so valuable, he says softly, 'That was someone I know, walking on would have made him suspicious. He's very observant.'

The hooded shape merely nods and follows him at a distance of about a yard once more, and soon they reach the Master's house. Heathcliff knocks on the door and is admitted by the Master's butler, then taken to his library, an impressive room with row upon row of bookshelves, all stuffed to the very top with countless books, and a huge oaken desk, behind which the Master is lounging in his comfortable chair.

His companion puts the package on the desk, and the Master opens it to reveal little jars and neat little packages.

'Magic supplies,' he states with satisfaction. 'A very delicate cargo and perfectly suited to have the two of you get acquainted. I take it your expedition was as successful in that way as it was in delivering my goods?'

The dark shape has taken down his hood, revealing the noble handsome face once more. Strangely enough, the young man now speaks reverently.

'Perfectly, sir, we have gained a profound appreciation of each other's talents.'

Heathcliff doesn't understand one word of this conversation, but he tries not to show that, hoping to soon gain a clue as to what is happening. He finds himself hoping the beautiful man will talk to him, or even kiss him. But the Master seems satisfied with the noble man's comments, and dismisses Heathcliff, keeping the other man at his side.

Walking out quietly, Heathcliff still has no idea what happened, and Father Nicholas' warning, it's all so very weird. So he walks home at a brisk pace, openly, and once there he takes a few stiff drinks to help him find oblivion for the night.

'Wake up, daddy, we're here.'

Catherine's little voice accompanies a firm shaking of two year old hands and arms. That was so weird!

He must have slept ten minutes, and relived at least half an hour. His dream is still making him a bit fuzzy, but as he gets out of the cab the cold wakes him up instantly. There is no need to find his own way inside, for Adison still holds his hand, and Catherine walks beside him. He needs sleep, therefore he is not going to tell everyone about this flash-back, so real once again. That would keep them up all night, and he longs for his warm bed and his beloved in his arms.

Of course that is no problem, within half an hour he has both his wishes fulfilled and is lying snug and warm under their comforter, with Adison on his chest. But his former tiredness is totally gone, he cannot seem to find sleep. In her little bed next to their own, Catherine's breathing has already slowed, she's fast asleep as usual.

Adison notices his restlessness and asks, 'Will you tell me what is bothering you? Is it just an overload of things happening today?'

'I suppose it is, love, a premiere is quite profound in the first place, and adding the upheaval over Mr Wilde and Bosie, seeing Mr Grey again and in such a state, talking to Father Nicholas, and then that dream just now.'

He describes his dream in detail, and Adison reacts with concern.

'I can imagine why you feel overloaded! That is too much for one day, a person can only process so much. Do you want to talk about it, or shall we let it rest for one night and talk about it tomorrow? You played magnificently, I was so proud of you, and Catherine was too, you have earned a little loving and a lot of rest.'

Which is exactly what he wants, and Adison kisses him, then crawls down under the blankets and spoils him by taking a firm hold of his unsuspecting member and caressing it with her tongue and mouth until it has risen to its full height and he really has no thought left in his mind, just excitement and pure lust. If he lets her continue it will be over way too soon, so right before he can feel a climax coming he lifts her bodily and lays her down on the bed, then kneels between her legs and turns the tables on her with his own tongue, until she is moaning and shuddering in release.

Once is not enough, he wants to go on and on, but Adison wants to be active too, and she wriggles around until she has hold of him again, and now they please each other and enjoy their ministrations at the same time, until they both have an intense climax. That settles them down a lot, Vincent is getting positively sleepy, and with his beloved in his arms he falls asleep a bit quicker than he wanted to.

Adison watches her talented beloved sleep, though it is rather dark his face is so light she can discern his features finally relaxing, and she really has to suppress an urge to stroke him and give him a few little kisses, she loves him so much, and he has done so incredibly well today. Instead of caressing him, she snuggles against him, and the sound of his regular breathing, and Catherine's a bit further away soothe her into sleep herself.

The next morning before either of them has even stirred, Victor comes storming in their bedroom, waking all three of them instantly. Things may be rather safe now, but being surrounded by danger for nearly a year tends to make person jumpy, even Catherine, and they still wake easily.

Victor jumps on their bed, right beside Vincent, who is rubbing his eyes and pulling himself to a sitting position, covering his scarred chest with the blanket to stay warm.

Adison joins him, and Catherine sits with Victor in her flannel nightgown. For Victor has a paper in his hand, folded back on a certain page, the reviews of course.

'They love it, praise the ingenuity of Mr Wilde, of course they can't resist elaborating on the scandal with the Marquess, you can read that yourself, this is the bit that matters: 'Tonight's debutant was Mr H Vincent as the Reverend Chasuble, a commendable performance by a gifted new actor, reputedly discovered wasting his talent in one of the many penny dreadful theatres this city boasts.

I say, 'bravo!' to the brave heart who dared cast an untried player in this field of renowned actors and actresses, for I myself blinked my eyes more than usual when the Reverend finally declared his love to deserving Miss Prism, and my lady wife spilled her tears quite openly. And after her having spent most of them on laughing fits, that is no mean feat! We all hope to see more of this remarkable new face.'

That's a whole paragraph for you, Vincent, they loved your performance!'

Victor is totally excited, as if it were himself being praised in the newspaper by a well-known critic.

And though Vincent is clearly flattered to be called 'a remarkable new face', and his performance 'commendable', it is also clear to Adison that he is not enjoying the excellent review as much as he should be. Catherine has noticed, too, and she exchanges Victor's lap for her father's.

'What is it daddy, did you have a bad dream?'

That sounds so cute and totally her true age, that Vincent looks at her in surprise.

'You're not turned into a real toddler overnight, are you?'

His daughter takes on her sweetest, most innocent look, she really is his daughter and an actress born, and replies, 'No daddy, don't worry, I'm precisely who I was when we went to bed yesterday. But you look as if something bad happened instead of getting a very fine review in a very fine newspaper.'