Run To the Sea
Chapter 24
Sue Glasgow
Halloween evening Below was a very special occasion for the Tunnel children. Costumes had been carefully chosen and were worn most of the day. Following supper, candy was distributed and games were played. Mary had helped several of the younger children carve Jack-o'-Lanterns, but the older boys and girls were scheduled to compete in a carving contest after Father's renowned hour of ghost stories.
Vincent had been welcomed home enthusiastically and had quickly become involved in all the Halloween activities. Father had almost begun to hope Vincent would forget his plans to go Above, but his hopes vanished when his son came to the story hour perfectly groomed, dressed in his finest ruffled shirt, and carrying his cloak.
As the children assembled at Father's feet, Vincent perched upon one of Father's tables. As the stories began, Father remembered year after year of Vincent sitting in that same place...each year, his legs dangling a little longer. Now his son was without a doubt the most imposing personage in the chamber.
The chamber lent itself well to the ghostly atmosphere as the stories wove a spell of delightful terror and chilling horrors. The smaller children clung to each other as the older boys proved their bravery by sitting alone and demanding "something scarier".
At last Father's voice tired, and the last story was told. Father cleared the chamber with an announcement of the pumpkin carving, leaving only himself and his son in the wake of the exiting children.
Vincent spoke from his place on the table, "Every year they ask for the same stories. By now they must know them better than you do."
Father sighed. "Well, you know, old stories are rather like old friends. Every so often you have to drop in on them again just to see how they're doing. And anyway, I can remember a certain young boy who would never let a mere Jack-o'-Lantern deny him a visit to Ichabod Crane."
Vincent chuckled in the back of his throat, but then the mood was broken as he reached for the book lying at his side on the table. He fingered the cover of "300 Days" in thought, wondering if Father had read it the second time.
Father did not miss the gesture. "You're still determined to go, are you?" Looking away, the older man said, "I wish you'd reconsider."
"Father, surely on this night of all nights I can walk among them in safety."
"Safety?" Father's voice rose,   "Vincent,   there is no safety up there...for you or anyone else."
"Sometimes we must leave our safe places, Father, and...walk empty-handed among our enemies." Vincent put the book down.
"Those are Brigit O'Donnell's words."
"Those are true words." Vincent paused. "Words that have opened doors for me. Let some light in on the dark places. You know what she's meant to me."
"I do. And I also know there's a danger of confusing the magic with the magician. Sometimes a person is smaller than the work, weaker, more frightened, more human. And I don't want to see you hurt, disappointed."
"She will not disappoint me. Our lives are very different, and yet I'm sure we will understand each other. I will not lose this opportunity." Vincent stood up. "I must see her, talk to her."
Father brought himself up out of his chair and turned his back to his son. "Well, go then if you're set on it. Obviously, there's nothing I can do to stop you."
Vincent turned to gather his cloak, then he moved toward the steps to the upper level.
Father stopped him. "Vincent, ...be careful."
His son came to him and put an arm around his father's neck. Gently he kissed the older man on the cheek and patted his shoulder. "Don't worry." Then he turned and left the chamber to seek Brigit O'Donnell and to face the Above.

                                                                        *****
Still wearing his ruffled shirt, Vincent sat at his desk and opened his journal. The glow of Catherine's face in the pale light of dawn still dominated his thoughts. Never had she been more beautiful, and never had he experienced such a night as they had just shared. Through their bond he felt her now as she lay in her bed, and in the bond's renewed strength he knew she was drifting into sleep. Removing the cap from his pen, he sighed gently and wrote.

      November 1
      Last night was Samhain...the night, Brigit said, when the walls between
      the worlds grow thin, and spirits of the underworld walk the earth. I do
      not know what that night has meant to the Irish, or to the ancient Druids
      who named it, but to me...
      I must begin at the beginning.
      I have been Above. I have attended a masked ball, and I have been
      offered Russian Caviar by a man who looked at me as if I were...just a
      man. I saw no fear, and I walked among them with a freedom and ease
      which I never imagined could be.
      I found Brigit, and in her I found a strength beyond my expectations.
      She walks between two worlds, and is safe in neither, but in the midst of
      fear and hate she carries herself in the courage of Ian's love, and as
      long as she lives, Ian O'Donnell will live through her. The two of them
      share a gift which extends beyond the grave. Surely there can be no
      greater strength than this.
      I have my answer now for Father. All of his worldly logic cannot
      diminish the priceless value of a love such as Ian and Brigit share.
      As I stood looking at Catherine in the park with Brigit at my side, I
      found Catherine's beauty overwhelming. I had not seen her in many days,
      and to see her in the costume of the Owl Woman was almost disturbing. In
      my memories, the Owl Woman was a composite of Brigit and Catherine, and
      as I stood in the moonlight with both of these women costumed as the Owl
      Woman I found fantasy and fact strangely intertwined. It was easier to
      turn and walk away than to stay. But as I walked away, my bond with
      Catherine returned with its full strength. I could feel Catherine's
      confusion and bewilderment. She did not even know I had returned, and
      then to see me Above in the company of strangers...
      Later she was in danger, and I was there for her.
      After the danger, I could not leave without seeing Catherine again. Then
      I was beside her with her hand upon my arm, and with her touch, the
      ugliness, hate, and fear of her world slipped away. We shared a night of
      magic. Truly the walls had grown very thin, and she and I could walk
      between the worlds without thought or hesitation. She took me places I
      had never hoped to see. I gazed upon towers which reach to the very
      stars themselves. We saw theaters, temples, windows, lights, and motion
      everywhere. And in the midst of it all was Catherine, radiant with
      beauty and happiness. In all my life I have never known such pleasure as
      it was to walk beside her in her world.
      The Owl Woman told me when I found the truth, I would find Catherine.
      With Brigit's help, I have found that truth. It is love. Such a simple
      answer, but I found it so difficult to understand. Perhaps someday
      Catherine will love someone else who can give her what I cannot, but that
      will have no effect upon the love we share, for in its purest and noblest
      form, love transcends all else and stands alone as the ultimate truth.
      Someday I will explain it to Catherine.
      We watched the sun rise under the bridge, and Samhain was over. The
      walls thickened to separate us once more, but I do not believe I shall
      ever be quite the same again. I found love and beauty in Catherine's
      world...in Brigit's world. And I found these worth the dangers...worth
      the fear and pain.
      This is Catherine's gift to me. And if I must come Above to receive
      these gifts, I will. For Catherine, I will gladly leave the safe places
      and walk empty-handed among my enemies.

This is the final chapter of Run To the Sea
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