The long night of old treacheries and new alliances continues, and in Collinsport as dawn approaches, there is yet one last treachery to be exposed in this darkest of nights, before the coming of the light.
soundtrack: [www.youtube.com]
The calm is disturbed by the lap of the waves awash against the broken pavement of the fallen highway.
He lifts his head as if to catch a scent upon the soft sea breeze.
The first light of the sun begins now to color the horizon as it sends out streams of molten fire to lie upon the water. Out across the stillness of Frenchman’s Bay, a gull takes flight, rising, curling, and taking wing back toward the tranquil little hamlet. In the distance, a small boat casts away from the harbor in an early morning glide that seems much to much like some slow aquatic precision movement, all too reminiscent of a flowing Tai Chi form as it slowly escapes the cove and moves on out toward the North Atlantic
Dawn to sunrise and the twilight in-between: Collinsport seems uncannily serene.
Well past the Warning: Bridge Out sign, just before the naked twists of rebar and the cracked and broken pavement of the highway that has fallen into the Bay, on what has become the dead end of Chambers Road, a limo sits. It bares New York plates.
There is the vague whisper of a vapor escaping from the exhaust pipe.
At the edge of the broken highway, a tall gentleman in a well-tailored black suit stands with his hands in his trouser pockets. His enthrallment with the light of the imminent rise of the sun gives the impression he pays little or no heed to the crumbling pavement of the highway, which has fractured and fallen into the water below, and even now threatens to crumble beneath the soles of his polished shoes. Seemingly unaware, or unconcerned, as if he does not even contemplate what could have caused the collapse, he seems far more concerned with the horizon and the rising sun.
“Things fall apart, the center cannot hold .” A deep voice observes from behind.
“The blood-dimmed tide is loosed.” The dark gentleman agrees.
“She comes.”
“I know.” He says still contemplating the horizon.
Behind them, some distance from the idling limousine, suddenly, striding out of the misty air, Nicole Collins appears, slowly sauntering down the deserted highway as if it were a fashion runway.
She watches with predatory caution the two darken figures at the end of the road.
Her strong ankles give no indication of weakness as she walks with perfect balance along the chip and tar highway, her high heels striking the pavement with precision.
A hush, a silence descends.
It seems as if something has just shifted.
Time? Or a dimension?
She strolls past the limo.
The gentleman in the dark suit, aware of her presence, turns now to watch her languid and seductive approach, his dark eyes oddly lined with mascara to give the impression that they were filled with the night, while his olive skin seems kissed by the sun.
His smile reveals even white teeth.
Beside him stands a large black man in a double-breasted suit. A first impression would be that the man is a bodyguard.
“Nicole, it will be a glorious sunrise.” The gentleman remarks.
“Straining to remember . . . just what it means to be alive.” The black man softly begins to sing.
She cuts her eyes to him, their icy blue having gone arctic.
“Now Mr. Meriwether that is almost unkind. Even of us.” The gentleman in the daark suit replies.
Her hand almost floats as she lifts it to brush back her hair. The sharp points of her canine teeth now visible behind her slightly parted lips. “It’s a mild, mild wind. And a mild looking sky.” She says looking past them, out to the sea, farther, to the horizon where the break of sun was to meet the sea, her voice is mesmerizing . . . hypnotic. “And the air—the air smells now as if it blew . . . “
“From a far away.” Mr. Meriwether continues.
“Where do murderers go?” She asks looking back to the two men
“And who’s to doom,” Stephen Alzis grows circumspect.
“When the Judge himself is dragged to the bar.” She finishes.
He sighs, “Above all others I do hold you in the highest esteem.”
“You are our greatest creation.” Mr. Meriwether adds.
“And yet, you betrayed me,” She states in a voice devoid of emotion, her cold eyes upon him.
“Me?” He looks at her with mock curiosity and removes a languid hand from his trouser pocket. “Betrayal?” He sighs, “And so it would seem once again you wish to traveil memory’s rather inconsistent lane.” He points to her, seemingly off-handedly, “Who, my dear, betrayed whom first? As I remember . . . it was in Paris. Was it not? The City of Lights. And . . .” He snaps his fingers, “Yes–Marceline de Champeaux. Joseph Salpêtrière. And what YOU did for them–knowing even then where their particualr loyalties lie?”
“You well know it was not to Him-Who-Is-Not-To-Be-Named that I called upon that night.”
“No, it was the All-in-One, Tawil At-U’mr.” Mr. Meriwether remarks.
“Willfully before her time.” Alzis said emphatically.
“The student becoming much too impetuous. Summoning HIM without her Master.” Meriwether adds.
“Was it not you who showed me the away.” She replies matter-of-factly, “When one knows the way—why shouldn’t one take it?”
“Why shouldn’t one indeed?” Alzis remarks.
“Please do not play the favorite with me.” Nicole looks at him, her gaze cold, “I have neither the time nor the inclination to listen to your guile, for you did wickedly and wantonly designed to have me infected with your viral spawn, which you did so long ago draw down from the stars . . . to punish me? No. In order to try and bend me to your will. To make me into one of your retched servitors – and yet, you say you hold me in high esteem? Your hypocrisy astounds me as much as your betrayal.”
“Viral ingrates!” Meriwether jaw clenches. “Distasteful seeds of egocentric insurrection.”
Alzis now looks at her coolly, his dark eyes narrowing, “Yes, from the stars I brought them down to be the masters of men, and they sought only rebellion . . . rebellion . . . against me. And as you now well know . . . I will tolerate no insurection.”
“And their day of reckoning is yet to come.”
“But as for you, for that which does reside within you,'” He looks at her evenly, “Becasue of you, I have forgiven it of its sins.”
“Sins for which there should be no redemption,” Meriwether’s shoulders rising with his anger
“For you, this I have done . . . and yet you still seek to accuse me of betrayal? You take affront. A curse you call it. Whereas, in point of fact, you have arisen above the inconsequence of your species.” Alzis barely conceals his growing irritation; he grows tired of this ingratitude. “For you are now beyond death. You are now life without death. For you dwell wherein death itself doeth die. You are Undead, and among them, you, and you alone I have placed above the day of my reckoning.”
She steps closer to him, looking fully into his fathomless eyes, “No more lies. Tell me, was it you who gave the Brides sanction to work their unspeakable vengeance upon my mother, upon me.”
“A fly in the ointment.” He says rising a hand, “We are omnipotent not omniscient. That was the work of one who HAS betrayed me, even as HE has betrayed you.”
“Oh, truly treachery and chaos is thy name. Even as you betrayed my mother and gave Basarab dominion over her.” She says slowly circling him, “Even as you gave Judah Zachery dominion over my family. A curse upon the Collins’ that all but destroyed my father. And what of the abuses and betrayals you allow to be suffered upon my mother, Miranda? What hand did you play in that?” Still circling, “So many lies and corruptions. So many promises and betrayals.” She stops to stand before him, “So many deceits.”
“And this is your estimation?” He asks sternly. “After all that I have done for you? Secrets I have unlocked. Things I have shown you. When have I not ever kept my word to you? Did I not give you back that which you asked of me, both of your mothers? Misbegotten as they are?”
“A sentimental attachment, which truly is beneath you.” Meriwether censures.
“In my recollection, my dear, it was you, a child of twelve, who first called upon me. And did I not raise you up from the library floor of your miserable obsession? Did I not give you eyes to see. And ears to hear. Did I not grant you comprehension far beyond those, whose dusty tomes you so incessantly longed to read? “ He says, his anger rising, “I gave you insight. I gave you the power to comprehend extensions of shape, in order to see beyond the angles, and the curves, of this world, past the twilight abysses and the sentient darkness, outside the realm of the spheres, and into the space and time of the one yet to come. Have I not taken you to the Cold Wastes? Have I not shown you terrible Leng? The desolation of Sarnath? Did I not guide you through the ruins of what remains of the deserted temple of the Elders? Did I not give you voice to languages long since dead on the tongues of wizards far too foolish not to have known ever to have uttered them? Was I not there to protect you in your blasphemous endeavors and the terrible secret longings of your own dangerous desires. Did I not save you from things that you should have never called up? Deceits and Lies? Oh, yes, my dear. You are well practiced at deception! For you learned well duplicity from Hoffman and Stokes, whose talent for lies and guile endeared them to me long before you called upon my name. Deceit? Yes, how well it serves you. This deceptiveness of the naive, innocent, little rich girl oh so sadly orphaned and left all alone. What a wickedly sad tale you have made of it—when in truth you were ever more powerful than your recalcitrant wizard of a father. A devious little monster that beguiled a God.”
“Who’s to doom when the Judge is dragged before the bar?” Meriwether raises a brow and stares at her quizzically.
“Where do murderers go?” Alzis asks her pointedly.
She looks at him, eyes cold and devoid of emotion: “And so, am I not here?”
“We shall have no more of this acrimony! This I tell you and you listen well. You would best shed yourself of this too long and lingering weakness to humanity.” The Haunter of the Dark tells her. “You are no longer one of them. No matter how much you long to be. And what would it gain you to cling to your humanity? Are they not inheritors of a real estate destined to destruction.”
“Whereas we have a need of our sweet monster.” Mr. Meriwether interjects.
“A war is coming.” Alzis looks back across the tranquil waters of the bay to the horizon.
“Yes, one of your own devising.” She nods.
“It is the curse that I bare.” Alzis reflects.
“I am the Messenger and to me it is given the charge to open the gates so that once again my masters shall find their entrance. “ Mr. Meriwether continues, “And so, at times, I find I must at least give the appearance that I am working to that end.”
“While at the same time secretly plotting against yourself in order to maintain your little playground.”
His smile is dazzling, “My Nicole, to you I will give dominion over all you choose.”
“And so–what is it you need of me?”
“I need you to find Hutchinson’s daughter. “
She looks at him, “Oddly, this is second time she’s been mentioned tonight. Whereas I thought her long dead.”
“As she would have it. But, alas, she is well hidden . . . of her own volition.”
“And where will I find her?”
“Where indeed?” Mr. Meriwether nods.
“But first, I want you to kill Catriona Kaye.”
Cue Music End Of Episode