Chapter 15

Halloween

Catherine knocked lightly on the door to Joe's office. She collapsed in the chair across from his desk, and he thought how familiar this scene was after working with her for four years, first at the DA's office and now here at their own firm. Of course, the furniture here was a lot nicer than the county provided -- and the hours were more sane. But sitting across from Cathy at the end of the day had a comfortable feel to it.

Joe watched various expressions cross Cathy's face. She looked as if she intended to tell him something, but was extremely reluctant to do so.

"Spill it, Radcliffe."

"What, Joe"

"Whatever's bugging you. Hey, I'm not your boss anymore, I'm your partner. More than that, I'm your friend, kiddo. So out with whatever's on your mind."

She smiled. "You are a friend, a very good friend. I'm putting a lot of trust in that friendship." She took a deep breath to center herself and exhaled slowly. "We're having a Halloween party at the house and would like you to come."

"We? You and Vincent? You mean I'll finally get to meet the elusive husband?" Joe's interest was piqued.

"Yes, you'll finally get to meet Vincent." She chewed the inside of her cheek as if worried about something.

"What is it, Cathy?" Her actions were beginning to worry him. "What's the problem?"

"All I can tell you is that I love him with all that I am, and I'd like you to be friends. It's a dream I've had and is very important to me. "

"Hey, kiddo, anyone you love must be okay. I promise, I'll be on my best behavior. Will I know anyone else there?"

"Frank, Colleen and Jenny will be there. Oh, Peter Alcott will probably be there too, unless an emergency comes up with one of his patients. I'm not inviting anyone else from the office, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention it."

"Done. Can I bring anything?"

"Just yourself. About seven. Now, I need to get home. See you tomorrow Joe."

He sat at his desk after she left, contemplating the turn of events. Cathy kept her personal life locked away behind a very strong door. He was touched that she trusted him enough to open that door and expose her secret, whatever it was.

A Halloween party . . . he wondered if he'd have time to get a decent costume. He knew what he wanted, but it was only two weeks before Halloween. Most costume shops would be booked up, if they even had what he wanted at all. Hmmm . . . maybe his sister could make it for him he thought as he reached for the phone.

####

It was mild for Halloween, almost an Indian summer. Joe, dressed in his Star Fleet uniform, arrived at the brownstone a few minutes after seven. As he got out of the cab, he ran into Snow White, aka Jenny Aronson. She laughed as he gave her a cynical look, and told him not to make any snide comments. Arm-and-arm they ascended the steps to join the party.

Frank, as a very convincing Dracula, welcomed them at the door and gestured toward the living room. The folding doors between the living and dining rooms had been pushed back to create one large room; the dining table placed against the wall to serve as a buffet. The kitchen was open to the action too and, because of the glorious weather, tables had been set up on the patio so that people could enjoy the evening air.

Joe looked around and estimated three dozen people already milling about. They all seemed to know Jenny, and she began the introductions. Within minutes he was totally lost, acknowledging everyone but commenting that he would probably have to be reminded of names as the evening progressed. By the way they looked at him, he was sure that no one would forget him. He seemed to be the main attraction.

Colleen steered him toward the kitchen to get a beer. He sipped his drink and nibbled on some pretzels as he made his way back to the living room. He leaned against the wall and watched the throng, trying to put names with faces.

There was Vincent's dad, the man everyone seemed to call Father, talking to Peter Alcott. The lady in the corner dressed as Florence Nightingale, that was . . . Mary, and she was talking to the lady pilgrim who was . . . Sarah -- yeah, that's right, Sarah. The female pirate was Jamie and the boy dressed as the scarecrow was introduced as Mouse -- surely that wasn't his real name. Then there's Michael, dressed as a medieval knight -- Joe remembered meeting him at the office a couple of years before.

His concentration was broken by a laugh. He turned to find Cinderella smiling at him.

"You'll never do it, you know."

"Do what?" he replied.

"Remember everyone's name. That's what you were doing, right -- trying to remember everyone's name."

"Bingo. Now, your name was never given to me because I know I'd never forget someone as pretty as you."

A charming blush colored her cheeks. "My name's Lena," she said, offering her hand, "and you're the illustrious Joe Maxwell."

"Guilty as charged." He returned her smile and offered to get her something to drink. Declining, she chatted with him as they watched the other guests and helped him remember names. Just as Joe was asking where the host and hostess where, he saw Cathy enter the room with a very large man.

"So that's the elusive Vincent," he murmured under his breath.

"Tonight they're Hades and Persephone, but yes that's Vincent with Cathy."

"I gather you know Vincent?"

"Of course. He and Cathy are my best friends. I would have liked it to be more, but I didn't stand a chance, not with what they have. I only hope I can find someone to love me like he loves her." Her smile was wistful as she looked at her two friends.

Joe watched them closely as he thought about Lena's statement. Jenny had said almost the exact same thing to him once before. As he watched them make their way across the room he realized that he had never seen Cathy so . . . he couldn't even put a word to it. Happy? In love? Content? Sure, all of those and more. Maybe 'complete' was the word. She looked completely relaxed, completely happy, completely . . . everything. Though they weren't even touching, there was no doubt that these two were together and part of the same whole.

"Joe! Sorry we weren't here to greet you, but we've been upstairs with the children. Jacob was fussy and didn't want to go down. I see you have a drink, have you met everyone?"

"He's met more people than he can remember. He's even managed to hold up under all of the scrutiny," Lena joked before excusing herself.

Vincent joined them, having been waylaid by Mouse on his way through the room. "Joe, I'd like you to meet my husband, Vincent. Vincent, this is Joe Maxwell, former tormentor and boss, and now partner, but always good friend."

Joe's hand was enclosed in Vincent's large, gloved one. The grip was firm and Joe got the impression of controlled power. "I am very pleased to meet you, Joe. Catherine has told me a lot about you." Joe was startled by the quiet intensity of Vincent's voice.

"I wish I could say the same." Joe felt a touch unnerved as Vincent's deep blue eyes studied him cautiously. Cathy's voice shattered the tension creeping into the atmosphere.

"I didn't realize that you were into science fiction, Joe. Or did you just wait so late that that was the only costume they had left?"

"Cute, Radcliffe. I like science fiction. And before you make a sarcastic comment, I don't just watch the movies, I read the books too."

"Well, that's something the two of you have in common. I introduced Vincent to science fiction a couple of months ago, and I think I've created a monster!

Joe's eyes brightened. "Really? Who have you read so far?"

Leaving them to their discussion of Asimov, Niven and Clarke, Catherine made her way to the kitchen to get some juice. She’d just returned with a glass for Vincent and another beer for Joe when the sound of children's voices was heard from the foyer.

Joe looked amazed as a horde of small, noisy children seemed to fill the room, followed by several harried but smiling adults. "Our trick-or-treaters," Cathy whispered to him with a laugh. Several of the children went to people who were evidently their parents, and Joe was surprised to see a darling little blonde girl rush up to Lena. The rest seemed to swarm around Vincent, all talking and trying to show him their treasures at the same time.

"Children, children." Father's voice quieted the din. "You know the rules. Give William your candy, and he'll take care of it for you."

Joe was astonished at the complicity of the small children. There was no whining or complaining as they all handed their bags to the large man dressed as Friar Tuck. As he took the bags, William gave each of the children one piece of candy. The little blonde girl whispered something to him, and he handed her a second candy bar. Grinning, she ran back to Vincent and tugged on his hand. When he stooped to find out what she wanted, she hugged his neck and handed him the candy bar before following the other children to the patio for refreshments.

Catherine laughed and poked Vincent in the ribs. "Even the children know what a chocoholic you are."

"She's a cutie. Whose little girl is she?" Joe asked.

"That's Lena's little girl, Caty. Isn't she adorable? Now, you two get back to your discussion while I go and find Jen. I think I saw her talking to Livie and Rebecca on the patio."

The science fiction discussion flowed into one on social issues, then economy, music and art. Joe found himself intrigued by Vincent. His ability to discuss, intelligently, every subject they broached was amazing. He had a sound, analytical mind that was phenomenal. Thinking that he ought to be a lawyer, it dawned on Joe that he didn't even know what Vincent did do for a living, so he asked.

Vincent explained that he taught English and history, and did some manual labor on the side. As Joe started to query him further, he was interrupted by the children returning from the patio. They crowded around Vincent, begging him to read them a story. With an apologetic look at Joe, Vincent was led forward to one of the wingback chairs by the window. Father was seated in the other as children and adults alike gathered around.

Joe stood next to Cathy at the back of the room as they watched the proceedings. He found himself truly liking Vincent and couldn't understand the secrecy that shrouded the relationship.

Michael picked up one of several books stacked on the nearby credenza and handed it to Vincent. Joe noticed that he’d removed his suede gloves, and was astonished that the detail of his costume extended to the up-til-now covered hands. He watched Vincent gracefully turn the page with the claw-tipped fingers as his dulcet tones carried across the room.

Marveling at the superb costume he wore, Joe wondered what Vincent looked like without the makeup. It was so expertly applied, it was impossible to tell where it left off and the man began. A thought took root in Joe's brain as he carefully studied Vincent. As he watched his mannerisms -- the ease with which he wore the makeup -- Joe came to realize that this was no costume; what he saw was truly Vincent.

A low gasp escaped his lips as his body stiffened with recognition. Cathy's small hand on his arm precluded any other audible response, and he turned to look at her with startled eyes. An almost imperceptive shake of her head silenced him further. Vincent paused in his reading, but her smile encouraged him to continue.

Joe knew that he couldn't make a scene; not here, not now. He watched the tableau before him as he tried to comprehend this new development. How could Cathy be married to this man, this thing, before him? And, what was he? He’d noticed the fangs earlier as Vincent had talked, thinking them only a part of the costume. The claws, reflecting in the light as the pages were turned, looked positively lethal. The idea of those teeth or claws touching Cathy sent a shudder through him. A squeeze of her hand on his arm stopped that train of thought in its tracks.

Although she was aware of the turmoil in Joe, her eyes never left Vincent's face. Her beatific expression caused him to question his opinion. He realized that much of his antagonism stemmed from his own feelings for Cathy. Setting those aside, he reassessed the situation.

He knew how much Cathy and Vincent loved one another; that much was evident. He knew that Cathy wanted he and Vincent to be friends; and, until just a few minutes ago, that was happening. He’d admired Vincent's intellect and understanding. He had also admired the gentleness and patience that emanated from this strange being . . . man? He recognized love and admiration on the faces of the other guests, especially the children.

And speaking of children, what of Jacob? Surely only a man could have sired such a beautiful child. And Angel -- the twin that's never seen? All of a sudden the secrecy made sense. Almost like divine revelation, an understanding settled over him, calming his fears and lightening his heart. His free hand reached across and covered Cathy's, clasping it reassuringly.

She looked at him, and he gestured toward the kitchen with his head. The two of them quietly left the gathering, only Vincent noticing their departure. They made their way to the patio, getting something to drink as they passed through the kitchen.

They sat at one of the tables, sipping their drinks, and looked at the stars and the garden for a few minutes, neither speaking. Then, quietly, Cathy broke the silence. "Are you okay, Joe?"

He looked at her, thinking of all they had been through in the passed four years: the pressures, the teasing, the long hours, the friendship. He remembered how she had stood by him and cleared his name when he'd been framed by Evan Brannigan. She had always stood by him, as a friend, and the least he could do was return the favor now, when it meant so much to her. Besides, he admitted to himself, he really did like Vincent.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I won't deny it was a shock, and now I understand all of the secrecy, but I'm okay. How did he get like that?"

"No one knows. He was found outside of St. Vincent's Hospital when he was a newborn. The person who found him took him to Father and the rest is history."

"So how did you two meet? When did you meet?"

"It was four and a half years ago, the night I was attacked and my face was slashed. They'd dumped me in the park, and Vincent found me during one of his nighttime walks. He took me to Father, and I spent the next ten days with them, healing. Vincent cared for me the entire time, trying to ease my pain and my fears. My eyes were bandaged so I couldn't see him, but his voice was so gentle, so calming."

"And you fell in love with him." It was a statement rather than a question.

"I think I did, but I didn't realize it at the time. At the end of ten days, I was impatient to see where I was, to see what had been done to me. I unbandaged my face. Using my fingers, I could feel the cuts and the stitches. I was scared -- scared of not being pretty, not being perfect. You have to realize that my life at that time was a very self-absorbed one. You know all of the things you thought about me when I started working at the DA's office?"

Joe started at the question, and then looked embarrassed.

"Oh, I know what you all thought . . . little miss debutante playacting at doing good. Well, at the time of the attack you would have been right. My world revolved around parties, shopping, and the hairdresser. Oh, I would show up at the office occasionally, but if I hadn't been the boss' daughter, I wouldn't have lasted a month.

"Anyway, back to my story. I looked around for a mirror so that I could see how bad the damage was. I had been staying in Vincent's chamber . . . room . . . and there were no mirrors to be found. I finally found an old headlight assembly and used that to look at myself. Now, you have to realize that not only did I look like Frankenstein's daughter, but the reflection was distorted on top of that so I looked even worse. Add that to my fear of not being perfect and, well, you can imagine my emotional state.

"Vincent could feel my turmoil and came to see if I was all right. He came up behind me and I saw his reflection in my makeshift mirror. I screamed and threw the headlight at him. Oh Joe, he looked so hurt, and then he left me alone. Anyone would have scared me at that moment in time, but he thought it was because of how he looked. Later he came back with my own clothes and told me it was time to leave.

"We talked, and I tried to show him that I accepted him, just as he is. He told me that I had the strength to face what was ahead, even though I didn't think so. I didn't see him for several months afterwards, though he was in my thoughts constantly. Whenever I lost hope, I remembered his faith in me, and it gave me strength.

"One night he came to see for himself that I was all right. Of course, he hadn't known that I'd had plastic surgery and thought that I was having to face the world with all of those scars. The fact that I was having to go through such an ordeal had haunted him. When he saw that my face was fixed, he felt that his care wasn't needed anymore. He knew there was no place for him in my world and didn't plan to ever return. The thought of never seeing him again pained me, and I kept him with me as long as I could. But, as you can tell, he did see me again and our friendship grew."

Joe looked puzzled. "But what about Burch?"

"Elliott." Cathy sighed. "In the beginning, I didn't realize just how strong my feelings for Vincent were -- or I didn't want to admit it, I'm not sure which. Yes, I was attracted to Elliott, at first. But the disillusionment at his business dealings made me realize that I could never love him, not truly love him. As I recognized what was missing in his character, I realized that all of the qualities I wanted in a man were there in Vincent. It was then that I began to understand my feelings for him. I also understood that he loved me, though he would never admit it.

"We went through some rough times, but we had wonderful times too. Father was leery of me . . . he couldn't accept the depth of my love for Vincent. He worried that I would end up hurting him. When Vincent was younger he had had a similar experience that had caused a breakdown, during which he nearly died. Father was afraid something like that might happen again."

Joe watched his friend, happiness and sadness mirrored on her face at the various parts of her story. "But once you realized your feelings, what was the problem?" At her look he murmured, "Oh."

"Yes . . . oh. We live in a cruel world, Joe. He would be hunted or hated for how he looks. He told me once that he reminds people of their own aloneness. I see the hate and violence in our world that's done because people think they haven't been given a fair shake in life. And then, here is someone who has every right to be bitter, to be angry, to demand retribution; and yet, he is the most caring, gentle person, with such a beautiful spirit. Our world would be a much better place if there were more people like him in it."

Joe nodded his understanding but observed, "Even so, I know you Cathy, you're not one to give up easily, especially when it's something you want."

She gave a rueful laugh. "Once I fully comprehended my love for him, I did try to advance the relationship, but I had to be careful. He felt that by loving him I was giving up my destiny. He couldn't see that he was my destiny. He thought that I would, or should, find someone else and leave to have the home and family I deserved. I couldn't press the point because, in his selflessness, he would have left me for good, and I couldn't risk it. I would rather have the little we had than lose everything. So I waited, patiently, for him to realize that there was no life for either of us without the other."

"And evidently he finally came to his senses," Joe chuckled, "though he really didn't stand a chance."

She laughed at his assessment. "No, I would have won eventually. I might have been eighty, but I would have won! Actually, Vincent's brother Devin was the catalyst to our finally getting together."

"Vincent has a brother?" Catherine could hear the question in Joe's tone.

"Half-brother, Devin is Father's natural son. He's a character." She shook her head in disbelief. "But that's another story. Anyway, Devin was visiting and kind of poked and prodded Vincent into making a decision about our relationship." As she paused, a peaceful look appeared on her face and she held her hand up. "Come join us," she said, and Joe turned to find Vincent standing in the doorway. He hadn't heard a sound . . . how did she know that he was there? And how did such a large man move so quietly?

Vincent took Cathy's hand and sat next to her. Their eyes met, and she smiled. Joe got the impression that an entire conversation was being communicated silently. He surreptitiously watched them as he mulled over everything he had learned tonight. Any jealousy that he might have felt melted at the sight of these two together. Lena was correct -- no one else would ever stand a chance with either of them.

"I gather story time's over?" Cathy asked. Music could be heard from the direction of the living room. "Sounds like Jamie found the stereo."

"Yes, and all of the younger children have been taken home to bed. Now the young people are having their time."

"I'm sorry," Joe said contritely. "I've taken you away from your other guests."

"That's quite all right," Catherine replied. "All of these people are our family. They understood that you and I would probably need to talk privately."

"So, I guess I passed the test and will be able to leave in one piece?" Joe chuckled.

"What?" Cathy and Vincent both responded in apprehension.

"I'm kidding. It's just that every time I met someone tonight, I felt like I was being evaluated as to whether I cut the mustard. And while Vincent and I talked, there were several people who watched us as though ready to come to his rescue if needed -- though I imagine that Vincent can take care of himself."

"I guess everyone is a little protective of Vincent," Cathy admitted with almost a sigh of relief.

Joe remembered something he'd wanted to ask. "By the way, how did you know that he was there? I didn't hear a thing."

Cathy got a smug look on her face and Vincent looked amused. "I felt him there," she said. "Vincent and I have a bond, a connection. We can feel what the other is feeling. He's been able to do it since the beginning but, until the past year, I could only feel it in cases of emergency. Since we've been married, the bond has been stronger for me, especially since the babies came."

"So you can tell what the other is thinking?" Joe was trying to understand.

Vincent's quiet voice replied, "No, not thoughts. Feelings . . . emotions, although sometimes they are as vivid as words."

Joe mulled that over, thinking of all of the implications. Knowing when someone else is happy, sad, hurt, afraid. "Doesn't that drive you crazy? I mean, it's bad enough having to live with my own ups and downs, but to have to deal with someone else's too . . . wow."

"It's not too bad for me, Vincent's emotions are fairly even, in fact tuning in to him can calm me down. However," she shook her head, "I don't know how he puts up with me."

Vincent's raised her hand to his lips, kissing it lightly. "You are my life."

She then pulled his hand to rub its furry back against her cheek. "As are you, my love."

Mesmerized, Joe watched this scene and had the irrational feeling of being a voyeur. How could something so innocent be so intimate? Averting his eyes, he found that the sight of clawed fingers against her cheek was imprinted in his mind. As that vision replayed in his thoughts, he could imagine the damage those claws could do, should Vincent ever get angry. Cathy said that his emotions were pretty even, but everyone gets mad at one time or another.

Ruminating on this, his thoughts scattered off into the various paths that thoughts tend to take, each one triggering another, often seemingly unrelated. Suddenly he was left with a very vivid image of what those claws could do. He realized that he had seen the aftermath of just such an incident, several in fact.

Thinking back, there were quite a few unsolved homicides that had been attributed to slashings -- attacks that had looked like maulings. He tried to remember the specifics of them. He couldn't remember any in the past two years . . . about the time that Cathy got out of investigations. She hadn't been officially linked to any of the deaths but, of the few he could recollect, there was a good chance that she might have been involved.

He started to say something and then realized, why? He wasn't the assistant DA any longer; anything done was probably done to protect Cathy -- God know she put her life on the line enough times -- and he'd consider that self-defense; and . . . what good would it do? It's not like Vincent could be arrested and expect to get a fair trial. No, he trusted Cathy -- he trusted her judgment, and he trusted her love for Vincent.

With the love he could see, and the sense of protectiveness that each felt for the other, he could imagine the scenario. If Vincent could feel her emotions, then her fear would probably push him over the edge. Joe remembered the fury he felt when she had been kidnapped and almost killed by the guy who'd been watching her. He'd been ready to do the guy bodily harm, and his relationship with her wasn't nearly as deep as Vincent's.

He looked over to see Vincent's eyes watching him, warily. Joe realized that he must be able to feel the turmoil going on within him, his empathic powers not limited to just Cathy.

As he held his glance, Joe stated matter-of-factly, "You took her to the hospital when she'd been shot, and you got her out of the trunk of the car." There was a slight nod of the golden head. Even without empathic powers, he knew that they were tense in anticipation of his response and decided to lighten the air. "Hey, I'm glad to know someone responsible is looking out for her -- besides me, of course. Do you know what a trouble magnet she is? What am I saying, of course you do. I'm surprised you didn't kidnap her yourself and lock her away somewhere just to get some peace and quiet."

Vincent's quiet chuckle could be heard even with Cathy's indignant reply. As Joe joined in the laughing she calmed down, evidently realizing that it had been a joke. As Joe and Vincent's eyes met again, respect and understanding passed between them. They all relaxed in their chairs.

"Well, Radcliffe, it looks like you got your wish."

"How's that, Joe?"

"You wanted us to like each other." Joe continued with an awful Bogart imitation, "Vincent, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Halloween

Catherine knocked lightly on the door to Joe's office. She collapsed in the chair across from his desk, and he thought how familiar this scene was after working with her for four years, first at the DA's office and now here at their own firm. Of course, the furniture here was a lot nicer than the county provided -- and the hours were more sane. But sitting across from Cathy at the end of the day had a comfortable feel to it.

Joe watched various expressions cross Cathy's face. She looked as if she intended to tell him something, but was extremely reluctant to do so.

"Spill it, Radcliffe."

"What, Joe"

"Whatever's bugging you. Hey, I'm not your boss anymore, I'm your partner. More than that, I'm your friend, kiddo. So out with whatever's on your mind."

She smiled. "You are a friend, a very good friend. I'm putting a lot of trust in that friendship." She took a deep breath to center herself and exhaled slowly. "We're having a Halloween party at the house and would like you to come."

"We? You and Vincent? You mean I'll finally get to meet the elusive husband?" Joe's interest was piqued.

"Yes, you'll finally get to meet Vincent." She chewed the inside of her cheek as if worried about something.

"What is it, Cathy?" Her actions were beginning to worry him. "What's the problem?"

"All I can tell you is that I love him with all that I am, and I'd like you to be friends. It's a dream I've had and is very important to me. "

"Hey, kiddo, anyone you love must be okay. I promise, I'll be on my best behavior. Will I know anyone else there?"

"Frank, Colleen and Jenny will be there. Oh, Peter Alcott will probably be there too, unless an emergency comes up with one of his patients. I'm not inviting anyone else from the office, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention it."

"Done. Can I bring anything?"

"Just yourself. About seven. Now, I need to get home. See you tomorrow Joe."

He sat at his desk after she left, contemplating the turn of events. Cathy kept her personal life locked away behind a very strong door. He was touched that she trusted him enough to open that door and expose her secret, whatever it was.

A Halloween party . . . he wondered if he'd have time to get a decent costume. He knew what he wanted, but it was only two weeks before Halloween. Most costume shops would be booked up, if they even had what he wanted at all. Hmmm . . . maybe his sister could make it for him he thought as he reached for the phone.

####

It was mild for Halloween, almost an Indian summer. Joe, dressed in his Star Fleet uniform, arrived at the brownstone a few minutes after seven. As he got out of the cab, he ran into Snow White, aka Jenny Aronson. She laughed as he gave her a cynical look, and told him not to make any snide comments. Arm-and-arm they ascended the steps to join the party.

Frank, as a very convincing Dracula, welcomed them at the door and gestured toward the living room. The folding doors between the living and dining rooms had been pushed back to create one large room; the dining table placed against the wall to serve as a buffet. The kitchen was open to the action too and, because of the glorious weather, tables had been set up on the patio so that people could enjoy the evening air.

Joe looked around and estimated three dozen people already milling about. They all seemed to know Jenny, and she began the introductions. Within minutes he was totally lost, acknowledging everyone but commenting that he would probably have to be reminded of names as the evening progressed. By the way they looked at him, he was sure that no one would forget him. He seemed to be the main attraction.

Colleen steered him toward the kitchen to get a beer. He sipped his drink and nibbled on some pretzels as he made his way back to the living room. He leaned against the wall and watched the throng, trying to put names with faces.

There was Vincent's dad, the man everyone seemed to call Father, talking to Peter Alcott. The lady in the corner dressed as Florence Nightingale, that was . . . Mary, and she was talking to the lady pilgrim who was . . . Sarah -- yeah, that's right, Sarah. The female pirate was Jamie and the boy dressed as the scarecrow was introduced as Mouse -- surely that wasn't his real name. Then there's Michael, dressed as a medieval knight -- Joe remembered meeting him at the office a couple of years before.

His concentration was broken by a laugh. He turned to find Cinderella smiling at him.

"You'll never do it, you know."

"Do what?" he replied.

"Remember everyone's name. That's what you were doing, right -- trying to remember everyone's name."

"Bingo. Now, your name was never given to me because I know I'd never forget someone as pretty as you."

A charming blush colored her cheeks. "My name's Lena," she said, offering her hand, "and you're the illustrious Joe Maxwell."

"Guilty as charged." He returned her smile and offered to get her something to drink. Declining, she chatted with him as they watched the other guests and helped him remember names. Just as Joe was asking where the host and hostess where, he saw Cathy enter the room with a very large man.

"So that's the elusive Vincent," he murmured under his breath.

"Tonight they're Hades and Persephone, but yes that's Vincent with Cathy."

"I gather you know Vincent?"

"Of course. He and Cathy are my best friends. I would have liked it to be more, but I didn't stand a chance, not with what they have. I only hope I can find someone to love me like he loves her." Her smile was wistful as she looked at her two friends.

Joe watched them closely as he thought about Lena's statement. Jenny had said almost the exact same thing to him once before. As he watched them make their way across the room he realized that he had never seen Cathy so . . . he couldn't even put a word to it. Happy? In love? Content? Sure, all of those and more. Maybe 'complete' was the word. She looked completely relaxed, completely happy, completely . . . everything. Though they weren't even touching, there was no doubt that these two were together and part of the same whole.

"Joe! Sorry we weren't here to greet you, but we've been upstairs with the children. Jacob was fussy and didn't want to go down. I see you have a drink, have you met everyone?"

"He's met more people than he can remember. He's even managed to hold up under all of the scrutiny," Lena joked before excusing herself.

Vincent joined them, having been waylaid by Mouse on his way through the room. "Joe, I'd like you to meet my husband, Vincent. Vincent, this is Joe Maxwell, former tormentor and boss, and now partner, but always good friend."

Joe's hand was enclosed in Vincent's large, gloved one. The grip was firm and Joe got the impression of controlled power. "I am very pleased to meet you, Joe. Catherine has told me a lot about you." Joe was startled by the quiet intensity of Vincent's voice.

"I wish I could say the same." Joe felt a touch unnerved as Vincent's deep blue eyes studied him cautiously. Cathy's voice shattered the tension creeping into the atmosphere.

"I didn't realize that you were into science fiction, Joe. Or did you just wait so late that that was the only costume they had left?"

"Cute, Radcliffe. I like science fiction. And before you make a sarcastic comment, I don't just watch the movies, I read the books too."

"Well, that's something the two of you have in common. I introduced Vincent to science fiction a couple of months ago, and I think I've created a monster!

Joe's eyes brightened. "Really? Who have you read so far?"

Leaving them to their discussion of Asimov, Niven and Clarke, Catherine made her way to the kitchen to get some juice. She’d just returned with a glass for Vincent and another beer for Joe when the sound of children's voices was heard from the foyer.

Joe looked amazed as a horde of small, noisy children seemed to fill the room, followed by several harried but smiling adults. "Our trick-or-treaters," Cathy whispered to him with a laugh. Several of the children went to people who were evidently their parents, and Joe was surprised to see a darling little blonde girl rush up to Lena. The rest seemed to swarm around Vincent, all talking and trying to show him their treasures at the same time.

"Children, children." Father's voice quieted the din. "You know the rules. Give William your candy, and he'll take care of it for you."

Joe was astonished at the complicity of the small children. There was no whining or complaining as they all handed their bags to the large man dressed as Friar Tuck. As he took the bags, William gave each of the children one piece of candy. The little blonde girl whispered something to him, and he handed her a second candy bar. Grinning, she ran back to Vincent and tugged on his hand. When he stooped to find out what she wanted, she hugged his neck and handed him the candy bar before following the other children to the patio for refreshments.

Catherine laughed and poked Vincent in the ribs. "Even the children know what a chocoholic you are."

"She's a cutie. Whose little girl is she?" Joe asked.

"That's Lena's little girl, Caty. Isn't she adorable? Now, you two get back to your discussion while I go and find Jen. I think I saw her talking to Livie and Rebecca on the patio."

The science fiction discussion flowed into one on social issues, then economy, music and art. Joe found himself intrigued by Vincent. His ability to discuss, intelligently, every subject they broached was amazing. He had a sound, analytical mind that was phenomenal. Thinking that he ought to be a lawyer, it dawned on Joe that he didn't even know what Vincent did do for a living, so he asked.

Vincent explained that he taught English and history, and did some manual labor on the side. As Joe started to query him further, he was interrupted by the children returning from the patio. They crowded around Vincent, begging him to read them a story. With an apologetic look at Joe, Vincent was led forward to one of the wingback chairs by the window. Father was seated in the other as children and adults alike gathered around.

Joe stood next to Cathy at the back of the room as they watched the proceedings. He found himself truly liking Vincent and couldn't understand the secrecy that shrouded the relationship.

Michael picked up one of several books stacked on the nearby credenza and handed it to Vincent. Joe noticed that he’d removed his suede gloves, and was astonished that the detail of his costume extended to the up-til-now covered hands. He watched Vincent gracefully turn the page with the claw-tipped fingers as his dulcet tones carried across the room.

Marveling at the superb costume he wore, Joe wondered what Vincent looked like without the makeup. It was so expertly applied, it was impossible to tell where it left off and the man began. A thought took root in Joe's brain as he carefully studied Vincent. As he watched his mannerisms -- the ease with which he wore the makeup -- Joe came to realize that this was no costume; what he saw was truly Vincent.

A low gasp escaped his lips as his body stiffened with recognition. Cathy's small hand on his arm precluded any other audible response, and he turned to look at her with startled eyes. An almost imperceptive shake of her head silenced him further. Vincent paused in his reading, but her smile encouraged him to continue.

Joe knew that he couldn't make a scene; not here, not now. He watched the tableau before him as he tried to comprehend this new development. How could Cathy be married to this man, this thing, before him? And, what was he? He’d noticed the fangs earlier as Vincent had talked, thinking them only a part of the costume. The claws, reflecting in the light as the pages were turned, looked positively lethal. The idea of those teeth or claws touching Cathy sent a shudder through him. A squeeze of her hand on his arm stopped that train of thought in its tracks.

Although she was aware of the turmoil in Joe, her eyes never left Vincent's face. Her beatific expression caused him to question his opinion. He realized that much of his antagonism stemmed from his own feelings for Cathy. Setting those aside, he reassessed the situation.

He knew how much Cathy and Vincent loved one another; that much was evident. He knew that Cathy wanted he and Vincent to be friends; and, until just a few minutes ago, that was happening. He’d admired Vincent's intellect and understanding. He had also admired the gentleness and patience that emanated from this strange being . . . man? He recognized love and admiration on the faces of the other guests, especially the children.

And speaking of children, what of Jacob? Surely only a man could have sired such a beautiful child. And Angel -- the twin that's never seen? All of a sudden the secrecy made sense. Almost like divine revelation, an understanding settled over him, calming his fears and lightening his heart. His free hand reached across and covered Cathy's, clasping it reassuringly.

She looked at him, and he gestured toward the kitchen with his head. The two of them quietly left the gathering, only Vincent noticing their departure. They made their way to the patio, getting something to drink as they passed through the kitchen.

They sat at one of the tables, sipping their drinks, and looked at the stars and the garden for a few minutes, neither speaking. Then, quietly, Cathy broke the silence. "Are you okay, Joe?"

He looked at her, thinking of all they had been through in the passed four years: the pressures, the teasing, the long hours, the friendship. He remembered how she had stood by him and cleared his name when he'd been framed by Evan Brannigan. She had always stood by him, as a friend, and the least he could do was return the favor now, when it meant so much to her. Besides, he admitted to himself, he really did like Vincent.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I won't deny it was a shock, and now I understand all of the secrecy, but I'm okay. How did he get like that?"

"No one knows. He was found outside of St. Vincent's Hospital when he was a newborn. The person who found him took him to Father and the rest is history."

"So how did you two meet? When did you meet?"

"It was four and a half years ago, the night I was attacked and my face was slashed. They'd dumped me in the park, and Vincent found me during one of his nighttime walks. He took me to Father, and I spent the next ten days with them, healing. Vincent cared for me the entire time, trying to ease my pain and my fears. My eyes were bandaged so I couldn't see him, but his voice was so gentle, so calming."

"And you fell in love with him." It was a statement rather than a question.

"I think I did, but I didn't realize it at the time. At the end of ten days, I was impatient to see where I was, to see what had been done to me. I unbandaged my face. Using my fingers, I could feel the cuts and the stitches. I was scared -- scared of not being pretty, not being perfect. You have to realize that my life at that time was a very self-absorbed one. You know all of the things you thought about me when I started working at the DA's office?"

Joe started at the question, and then looked embarrassed.

"Oh, I know what you all thought . . . little miss debutante playacting at doing good. Well, at the time of the attack you would have been right. My world revolved around parties, shopping, and the hairdresser. Oh, I would show up at the office occasionally, but if I hadn't been the boss' daughter, I wouldn't have lasted a month.

"Anyway, back to my story. I looked around for a mirror so that I could see how bad the damage was. I had been staying in Vincent's chamber . . . room . . . and there were no mirrors to be found. I finally found an old headlight assembly and used that to look at myself. Now, you have to realize that not only did I look like Frankenstein's daughter, but the reflection was distorted on top of that so I looked even worse. Add that to my fear of not being perfect and, well, you can imagine my emotional state.

"Vincent could feel my turmoil and came to see if I was all right. He came up behind me and I saw his reflection in my makeshift mirror. I screamed and threw the headlight at him. Oh Joe, he looked so hurt, and then he left me alone. Anyone would have scared me at that moment in time, but he thought it was because of how he looked. Later he came back with my own clothes and told me it was time to leave.

"We talked, and I tried to show him that I accepted him, just as he is. He told me that I had the strength to face what was ahead, even though I didn't think so. I didn't see him for several months afterwards, though he was in my thoughts constantly. Whenever I lost hope, I remembered his faith in me, and it gave me strength.

"One night he came to see for himself that I was all right. Of course, he hadn't known that I'd had plastic surgery and thought that I was having to face the world with all of those scars. The fact that I was having to go through such an ordeal had haunted him. When he saw that my face was fixed, he felt that his care wasn't needed anymore. He knew there was no place for him in my world and didn't plan to ever return. The thought of never seeing him again pained me, and I kept him with me as long as I could. But, as you can tell, he did see me again and our friendship grew."

Joe looked puzzled. "But what about Burch?"

"Elliott." Cathy sighed. "In the beginning, I didn't realize just how strong my feelings for Vincent were -- or I didn't want to admit it, I'm not sure which. Yes, I was attracted to Elliott, at first. But the disillusionment at his business dealings made me realize that I could never love him, not truly love him. As I recognized what was missing in his character, I realized that all of the qualities I wanted in a man were there in Vincent. It was then that I began to understand my feelings for him. I also understood that he loved me, though he would never admit it.

"We went through some rough times, but we had wonderful times too. Father was leery of me . . . he couldn't accept the depth of my love for Vincent. He worried that I would end up hurting him. When Vincent was younger he had had a similar experience that had caused a breakdown, during which he nearly died. Father was afraid something like that might happen again."

Joe watched his friend, happiness and sadness mirrored on her face at the various parts of her story. "But once you realized your feelings, what was the problem?" At her look he murmured, "Oh."

"Yes . . . oh. We live in a cruel world, Joe. He would be hunted or hated for how he looks. He told me once that he reminds people of their own aloneness. I see the hate and violence in our world that's done because people think they haven't been given a fair shake in life. And then, here is someone who has every right to be bitter, to be angry, to demand retribution; and yet, he is the most caring, gentle person, with such a beautiful spirit. Our world would be a much better place if there were more people like him in it."

Joe nodded his understanding but observed, "Even so, I know you Cathy, you're not one to give up easily, especially when it's something you want."

She gave a rueful laugh. "Once I fully comprehended my love for him, I did try to advance the relationship, but I had to be careful. He felt that by loving him I was giving up my destiny. He couldn't see that he was my destiny. He thought that I would, or should, find someone else and leave to have the home and family I deserved. I couldn't press the point because, in his selflessness, he would have left me for good, and I couldn't risk it. I would rather have the little we had than lose everything. So I waited, patiently, for him to realize that there was no life for either of us without the other."

"And evidently he finally came to his senses," Joe chuckled, "though he really didn't stand a chance."

She laughed at his assessment. "No, I would have won eventually. I might have been eighty, but I would have won! Actually, Vincent's brother Devin was the catalyst to our finally getting together."

"Vincent has a brother?" Catherine could hear the question in Joe's tone.

"Half-brother, Devin is Father's natural son. He's a character." She shook her head in disbelief. "But that's another story. Anyway, Devin was visiting and kind of poked and prodded Vincent into making a decision about our relationship." As she paused, a peaceful look appeared on her face and she held her hand up. "Come join us," she said, and Joe turned to find Vincent standing in the doorway. He hadn't heard a sound . . . how did she know that he was there? And how did such a large man move so quietly?

Vincent took Cathy's hand and sat next to her. Their eyes met, and she smiled. Joe got the impression that an entire conversation was being communicated silently. He surreptitiously watched them as he mulled over everything he had learned tonight. Any jealously that he might have felt melted at the sight of these two together. Lena was correct -- no one else would ever stand a chance with either of them.

"I gather story time's over?" Cathy asked. Music could be heard from the direction of the living room. "Sounds like Jamie found the stereo."

"Yes, and all of the younger children have been taken home to bed. Now the young people are having their time."

"I'm sorry," Joe said contritely. "I've taken you away from your other guests."

"That's quite all right," Catherine replied. "All of these people are our family. They understood that you and I would probably need to talk privately."

"So, I guess I passed the test and will be able to leave in one piece?" Joe chuckled.

"What?" Cathy and Vincent both responded in apprehension.

"I'm kidding. It's just that every time I met someone tonight, I felt like I was being evaluated as to whether I cut the mustard. And while Vincent and I talked, there were several people who watched us as though ready to come to his rescue if needed -- though I imagine that Vincent can take care of himself."

"I guess everyone is a little protective of Vincent," Cathy admitted with almost a sigh of relief.

Joe remembered something he'd wanted to ask. "By the way, how did you know that he was there? I didn't hear a thing."

Cathy got a smug look on her face and Vincent looked amused. "I felt him there," she said. "Vincent and I have a bond, a connection. We can feel what the other is feeling. He's been able to do it since the beginning but, until the past year, I could only feel it in cases of emergency. Since we've been married, the bond has been stronger for me, especially since the babies came."

"So you can tell what the other is thinking?" Joe was trying to understand.

Vincent's quiet voice replied, "No, not thoughts. Feelings . . . emotions, although sometimes they are as vivid as words."

Joe mulled that over, thinking of all of the implications. Knowing when someone else is happy, sad, hurt, afraid. "Doesn't that drive you crazy? I mean, it's bad enough having to live with my own ups and downs, but to have to deal with someone else's too . . . wow."

"It's not too bad for me, Vincent's emotions are fairly even, in fact tuning in to him can calm me down. However," she shook her head, "I don't know how he puts up with me."

Vincent's raised her hand to his lips, kissing it lightly. "You are my life."

She then pulled his hand to rub its furry back against her cheek. "As are you, my love."

Mesmerized, Joe watched this scene and had the irrational feeling of being a voyeur. How could something so innocent be so intimate? Averting his eyes, he found that the sight of clawed fingers against her cheek was imprinted in his mind. As that vision replayed in his thoughts, he could imagine the damage those claws could do, should Vincent ever get angry. Cathy said that his emotions were pretty even, but everyone gets mad at one time or another.

Ruminating on this, his thoughts scattered off into the various paths that thoughts tend to take, each one triggering another, often seemingly unrelated. Suddenly he was left with a very vivid image of what those claws could do. He realized that he had seen the aftermath of just such an incident, several in fact.

Thinking back, there were quite a few unsolved homicides that had been attributed to slashings -- attacks that had looked like maulings. He tried to remember the specifics of them. He couldn't remember any in the past two years . . . about the time that Cathy got out of investigations. She hadn't been officially linked to any of the deaths but, of the few he could recollect, there was a good chance that she might have been involved.

He started to say something and then realized, why? He wasn't the assistant DA any longer; anything done was probably done to protect Cathy -- God know she put her life on the line enough times -- and he'd consider that self-defense; and . . . what good would it do? It's not like Vincent could be arrested and expect to get a fair trial. No, he trusted Cathy -- he trusted her judgment, and he trusted her love for Vincent.

With the love he could see, and the sense of protectiveness that each felt for the other, he could imagine the scenario. If Vincent could feel her emotions, then her fear would probably push him over the edge. Joe remembered the fury he felt when she had been kidnapped and almost killed by the guy who'd been watching her. He'd been ready to do the guy bodily harm, and his relationship with her wasn't nearly as deep as Vincent's.

He looked over to see Vincent's eyes watching him, warily. Joe realized that he must be able to feel the turmoil going on within him, his empathic powers not limited to just Cathy.

As he held his glance, Joe stated matter-of-factly, "You took her to the hospital when she'd been shot, and you got her out of the trunk of the car." There was a slight nod of the golden head. Even without empathic powers, he knew that they were tense in anticipation of his response and decided to lighten the air. "Hey, I'm glad to know someone responsible is looking out for her -- besides me, of course. Do you know what a trouble magnet she is? What am I saying, of course you do. I'm surprised you didn't kidnap her yourself and lock her away somewhere just to get some peace and quiet."

Vincent's quiet chuckle could be heard even with Cathy's indignant reply. As Joe joined in the laughing she calmed down, evidently realizing that it had been a joke. As Joe and Vincent's eyes met again, respect and understanding passed between them. They all relaxed in their chairs.

"Well, Radcliffe, it looks like you got your wish."

"How's that, Joe?"

"You wanted us to like each other." Joe continued with an awful Bogart imitation, "Vincent, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."