Mad things and Englishmen

Collinsport. The present. As Angelique Collins races backward through time in the hopes of finding the artifact that will help her restore Barnabas Collins back into this dimension, her daughter, Nicole Collins prepares to answer an invitation to tea. An invitation with startling revelations.

Act I, The Beach House

Nine had been preparing for the Tea Party – unable to forget the last Tea Party she had attended of Miss Kaye’s, the one which was rather suddenly convened in a hot, windy wasteland – and so, she was still a bit uncertain as to what to wear. She could ask Catriona but then she was not sure who would answer, Catriona or Wren – and she would rather it be Catriona for she was not at all certain whether or not she actually liked Wren. It went without saying that Catriona Kaye as Chairman of the Diogenes Club’s Ruling Cabal had dealt in her time with any number of sinister threats and rather vile villains, but Nine could not shake the feeling that Wren was far more dangerous. A point of fact being that the Diogenes Club’s file on Wren did very little to try conceal, rather than merely being suggestive, of the events surrounding the assassination of her father, Sir Alastair Wren, a member of the Foreign Office, in the 1890’s. 1890’s? She continued to try and fix the odd strand of hair that continued to worry her. Good God, just the fact that she didn’t even blink at the date – that some how Victoria Wren had been 19 in 1899 seemed rather ordinary, what with a vampire about to come and call.

Sir Alastair, it seemed had been suspected of being a triple agent, working not only for the British, but Austria and Germany. Was Victoria working for the British Secret Intelligence Service – even then? Odd that she should join the family on Holiday. Her father and sister, Mildred. First stop: Alexandria. Where the attempt on Sir Alastair failed and so the plot moved on to Cairo. The file strongly inferred, if not straightway stated, she had been in the one in the Egyptian Opera House to pull the trigger.

A good catholic girl turn assassin – how so? Seems she had tried and failed a Convent. But why a Covent? There were very subtle hints about Sir Alastair – and Nine felt she had discovered the answer in one of the yellowed pages of an official Constabulary report about the 1899 incident: “Several witnesses were confused as to the identify of young woman, Victoria, as to whether she was the daughter or the wife.”

And now this bloody tea party of hers – but which of them was preparing to stir things up?

“I feel so . . . exposed Miss.” She squirms not used to formal attire as she watches Catriona step out of the bedroom.

The tall, lovely blonde smiled and did not reply as she steps into the parlor.

Outside the luxurious beach house, the roll of the surf echoes in the night; the scent of the sea is strong in the air; there is a stiff breeze as Nicole Collins and Esther Friedman get out of the black Ferrari and approach the long, whitewashed veranda porch. Esther looks over at Nikki, who seems intent upon the house, as if she suspected some subterfuge. They mount the slightly warped wooden stairs, and Esther notes once again that Nikki’s feet seem to step so lightly there is no footstep. She always seems to glide.

Nicole saunters to the door; and knocks.

She turns to look thoughtfully now at Esther, “I wonder what lies she has in store for us tonight?”

Esther stands back and fidgets with her seldom worn skirt. “Tea Party. An invitation to a Mad Hatter’s cocktail party’s more like it. “

Nicole frowns, “I always thought the Tea Party was the March Hare’s.”

Agent Nine raises her head at the sound of the knock and decides to leave off the bothersome strand of hair and steps over to the door. She pauses, “Who is it?”

“The big bad wolf.” Esther mutters to Nikki, “Who the hell else does she think it is, she invited us.”

“Nicole Collins,” Nicole replies.

Agent Nine opens the door slowly, “We’ve been expecting you.”

Esther looks at her deadpan, “Really?”

“Do come in.” Nine steps aside to let them enter.

Nikki hands the invitation over to the agent, “A very nice touch, but really, this wasn’t necessary. The concept of the invitation is really a myth.”

Agent Nine smiles and takes the invitation, “I know, it was fabricated by the Carpathian.”

Nikki nods – a rare bit of knowledge. There is promise in this Agent Nine.

The beach house is resplendent. Esther looks at the decorative lighting, the antique furnishings, the paintings on the wall – the fact she could not detect a speck of dust.

“This way to the parlor.” Agent Nine motions them forward.

Catriona Kaye sits on the sofa facing the door that leads in from the entrance corridor, her hand in the pocket of her dress, as she holds the warm metal of the ornate silver key. She has always found it best to be prepared. Collins like her father has a temper – and it was accentuated now by her vampiric nature.

Nicole strides leisurely along the hallway, looking at the fashionable house to which the Diogenes Club has exiled Catriona Kaye. A situation, which Nicole finds dubious at best as she approaches the door to the parlor and is surprised to detect the slight hint of nervousness radiating from Catriona’s well maintained imperial façade.

“Nicole, so good of you to stop by on such short notice.”

Nikki’s lips pull back in a wry smile as she enters the parlor, “Oh, Catriona, if you have gone to all the trouble to invite me it is the least I could do for you.”

“Which if I know you is precisely what you would want to do for me – the least that is possible.”

“You do seem to know me rather well.”

As she steps further into the room, she notes the old books on the floor. Comte d’Erlette’s Cultes des Goules, “An interesting read, Francois-Honore Balfour?”

“He does have an very unique voice, don’t you think.” Catriona nods.

“Yes, he does.” Nicole replies taking note of the very unusual old clock sitting at an odd angle in the middle of the floor behind the sofa. “I can’t wait to read his second volume.

“Ah, yes, Corso.” Catriona nods and motions with her hand, “Please have a seat.”

Nicole is not at all surprised that Kaye is aware of Dean Corso – she may have been retired to Collinsport, but as the ex-chairman of the cabal, she must certainly still have her contacts.

Agent Nine strides over to stand beside Catriona, seemingly awaiting to be reassured that the leech is going to be civil.

Esther plops down next to Nicole already sensing that this is going to be a very long night. They have already started playing cat-and-mouse with one another.

“I must say that I should apologize for not having visited you sooner, Miss Collins, but I have been trying to acclimate myself you see to your lovely little village, Collinsport.”

Agent Nine satisfied that Collins is going to behave turns and walks through the connecting door into the study, moving through the house back toward the kitchen.

“Yeah – it’s rather large and it takes some acclimating to.” Esther says.

Nicole crosses her legs elegantly, sitting forward, on the edge of her seat, “Well, Catriona, I would take time to apologize also, if I could think of anything, for which I would, but . . . I must say, at the moment – I cannot think of a thing.”

Catriona Kaye leans forward growing tired of the lazy dance they are doing and so she decides it is time to move things along, “So, Nicole how is your mother?”

Nikki’s blue eyes grow colder, “My mother? To which would you be referring, Catriona?”

“Oh, yes, I do seem to forget you have two.”

“A rather convenient lapse.”

Catriona’s thumb idly rubs along enigmatic hieroglyphs that decorate the warm shaft of the silver key in her pocket, “Yes, well, I was speaking of Angelique.”

“You are aware she is here?”

“How could I not, it was I who stopped her from killing Dr. Praetorius.”

“Praetorius?”

That kook, what else was she about to drag up. “Did you set all this up?” Esther says not trying to disguise the irritation in her voice.

Catriona looks at Miss Friedman, “You would have to be a bit more specific?”

Through the connecting door of Catriona’s office, Agent Nine wheels into the parlour a small trolley, upon which a very proper English service is set.

Esther looks at it with a bit of amazement – is she actually going to serve tea? God – where the hell is the Cheshire Cat?

“I have set up many things—but I am not certain if all is accurate.”

“Sending Bitchy McGee to bully my good friend here?” Esther replies motion to Agent Nine playing at

Catriona looks up at the agent with astonishment, “Did you bully Miss Collins?”

“Not that one,” Esther corrects.

“More like the other way around Miss.” Nine explains.

Esther narrows her eyes and stares at the red-haired woman, “At least the mother didn’t break in.”

Catriona levels her glaze back upon Esther Friedman, “Ah, well—Angelique, she is a bit of a required taste, I am afraid.”

Nicole glares, “Is there some point to all of this?”

“A bad taste more like . . . “ Esther begins and then stops, aware that she is after all talking about Nikki’s mother.

“A point? Oh, yes Miss Collins, there is a point—you see, I felt it was time that we met.”

The agent leaves the trolley sitting, awaiting, uncertain if they will take tea here or whether once again they will all be whisked away to some deserted Wasteland—or worse, depending upon some whim of Wren’s. She steps over and has a seat to settle beside Miss Kaye.

“Dear, thank you so much for the tea.” Catriona takes her hand, “And should things go better than I expect, then we will be having it here.”

“So now we’ve met – and?”

“Miss Friedman,” Agent Nine leans forward, “If I may offer a slightly different perspective on this for you?”

“No, I’m just fine sitting right here. Thank you.”

Esther can feel Nikki’s growing frustration, “Catriona, I am not at all certain what you are up to this time.”

“Time! Oh now, what an interesting word. Time. But, this time, I don’t mean to be confusing, and perhaps I have, and so to be more specific, as I said earlier, it is time that we meet, for you see you and I have not actually met. Nor for that matter, you either Miss Friedman.”

“I know you have spent some time in hospital Catriona, but what the bloody hell are you going on about—I do not have time for games.”

Catriona smiles, “Really? Nicole, we both know that time has no meaning for you. Nor does it for me either, actually.”

“London!” Esther says her voice rising slightly, “We met in London. Remember? Portals. Mad doctors on islands? Any of that ring a bell?”

“But that was Catriona – who is actually here with me, but if you will, please allow me to introduce myself. I am Victoria Wren.”

Nicole Collins rises quickly, so quickly that in the corner of Esther’s eye she seems but a blue as she takes a step forward, “I am so tired of your puzzle box games my dear—what if I just snapped your neck here and now.”

“You would die trying,” Agent Nine replies her gun almost as quickly drawn and aimed at Nicole’s forehead, “Silver.”

Esther draws her knife and aims ready to throw at the agent’s head.

“Miss Friedman, please,” Nine says not taking her eyes off the leech. “I am a specially trained operative that makes Bond look like a civilian, do put it away.”

“Do I look like I give a fuck about your training?” Esther tells her.

“A dilemma Agent,” Nicole says looking at Catriona and not at the Agent point the gun to her head, “Do you really think you can pull the trigger before I can reach you, and then snap her neck?”

“Now that my dear sounds much too much like your Mother . . . Erzsébet. ” Victoria Wren says evenly, “Nine! Do put that away. I must say, it was such a lovely thought but, I guess we will be having tea elsewhere.”

Nicole narrows her eyes.

“Sorry, but it is better to show you that to just try and explain.” She removes the Key.

Act II, The Wasteland:

And suddenly the beach house disappears and they are standing in a vast wasteland.

There is nothing but desert sand reaching to the far horizon where the heavens above are a tangerine sky.

A hot wind blows. The sand ripples across the earth like serpents quickly slithering away.

Esther stands now looking around her, bewildered, “What—What the hell just happened?”

Nicole Collins looks up to the sky in horror!

“You get used to it Miss Friedman.” Agent Nine tells her as she steps past her. At least it is the same wasteland as before – and the Agent begins walking toward the rock formation behind them, where Catriona, no, Wren, is seated at a table set up for tea.

“Oh, not to worry, Miss Collins.” Catriona’s voice carries from behind them.

Esther says nothing as she can help quickly searching her pockets for an hourglass that might appear.

“The sun here will not affect you.”

Esther mutters quietly to herself: deep breath in, deep breath out.

Nikki turns her attention from the sky to see the rock formation and the table sitting in its angled shade; Catriona seated at a table set for four.

Esther glares at her, “Explain! Now!”

“Remember when you went to London Miss Friedman?” Agent Nine says back over her shoulder as she makes her way toward the table.

“A portal thing of the Doctor’s – but – there was no portal we were in her parlor!”

“It’s similar to that, but far less technology and nausea involved and less blinding too.” Nine, stands at her chair and smiles, “Well—she’s . . . she’s like a portal, somehow.”

Nikki looks over the wasteland and can not help but think of Elliot: a rock and no water. She frowns as she begins to saunter across the slithering “Okay, Catriona, I will give you that this is certainly a new parlour trick even for you.”

“Wren, Miss Collins, Victoria.” Victoria begins to pour tea for everyone, save Nikki, whom she places a cup of fresh blood at her setting.

“Ok, so where are we then? Timbuktu?” Esther asks.

“We are in – a place known as Dreamlands. The Stony Desert to be precise. If you were to step around this formation, She waves a hand to the black rock formation that shades the table, “You would be able to see Mount Hatheg-Ka. Really quite beautiful this time of day.“

“Right.” Esther nods without a clue as to whatever the hell she is talking about.

“They say this place is a graveyard.” Nikki says as she comes to a halt before the table and looks down at Catriona Kaye, her expression one of growing curiosity, “A titanic graveyard that the wise are known to avoid entirely.”

Victoria sits back and lifts her cup tea; she takes a sip, seemingly for some dramatic pause, and then looks up at Nicole, “Yes, that is what they say.”

A dust devil of thick, grey ash-like dust arises from a crevice in the black rock formation that provides the only shelter for the bizarre tea party.

Nicole stands beside the chair intended for her – she can detect the scent of the blood, human, AB positive. It is very fresh. She also takes note of the ornate key in Catriona Kaye’s left hand.

“The Silver Key?”

“Yes.”

Esther pulls her chair back and sits down removing a flask of unidentifiable liquor and pours it in her tea.

“Randolph Carter’s?” Nicole asks.

Victoria looks up at her, “Mine now.”

“Yours?’

“Yes—my father passed it along to me.”

“Catriona, I have no idea what the bloody hell is wrong with you.” She looks to the agent, for some indication – is this some subtle game or has Catriona truly lost her mind? “Your father was Nigel Kaye, a PM, and a rather boring one from what I have been told.”

Esther tries to sip the tea, finding it too hot, and so, she just takes a swig of the flask.

Wren lifts her tea cup delicately and sips lightly from it, “It begins you see with a gunshot. Three to be exact. And for an assassin it really was rather unprofessional – leaving her there alive, seeing how there were no witnesses about, he could have just as easily just taken the kill shot. But be that as it may, I, as well as the Diogenes Club, are still attempting to ascertain who actually sanctioned the hit – the only clue being of course the three tarot cards that were sent to her. And a medium weight stationary card bearing a date, a time, and a single word written upon it: Westminster. Now, it does resonate with her – there is something about the combination. The cards and Westminster – but she is being very protective of that bit of information and so I have as yet been unable to get her to share. Nevertheless, Catriona really should not have gone there alone – not only at her age but particularly as the Chairman of the Ruling Cabal. She could have just as easily sent someone like Agent Nine. So—one could deduce that the meaning of the tarot cards and Westminster is rather personal. Whatever the reason, she went alone and thus took the three 9mm bullets in the chest. Which is a seemingly odd occurrence that something similar happened not too long ago in Arkham, to your Chief of Police, Jamison St. Clair, I do believe that is her name. Three shots—only this time in the back – suggestive? Sorry—just a thought that occurred. “

“Unable to share?’ Nicole asks, taking her seat.

“Yes. You see, as Lennon once said, we have come together – but I shall get to that momentarily.” Victoria Wren said with a wry smile, “And so, as she lay dying in Westminster, it was not as unseemly event as it appeared to the First Responders: a clergyman kneeling down to help – to administer the last rites. Only his prayer – if one were to have listened closely was not in Latin, but in Alko.”

“Alko?”

Agent Nine glances at Miss Collins.

“Yes – well . . .”

“This clergyman, I assume was not of the cloth?”

“No. Of no earthly cloth.”

“But you said—you went alone to Westminster as I understood it.”

“Not Catriona, but me.” She puts her cup of tea down precisely in the center of her saucer. “I know this gets all very dicey here my dear – but the truth of the matter is that currently Catriona and I occupy the same body. I am Victoria Wren, Randolph Carter’s daughter.”

Nichole looks across the table at Agent Nine. The agent returns her gaze without a show of emotion. So the agent believes it – does the Diogenes Club? She picks up the teacup of blood and raises a brow, “Randolph Carter’s daughter?”

“Yes. And I can assure you, this is not at all what I planned.”

“But you did plan it.” Esther says to point out what she had already suggested that Catriona Kaye, or whomever she wanted to call herself, had planned all of this – but she still did not understand why the hell was she using the same name as Nikki’s mother – Victoria Wren?

“I was unaware that Carter had a daughter.” Nicole replies coldly, “There is no mention of her in any journals of his that I have read.”

“Yes—well, perhaps you have only read those – that you were meant to read.”

“Meant to read?”

“Yes.”

Nicole looks at her oddly, “Rudolph Carter’s daughter? The dreamer awoke long enough to have a daughter—illegitimate I would have to assume.”

The woman seated across table – thought she appeared to be Catriona Kaye had certain piqued her interest, she sips the blood. Fresh. “No doubt some more of Catriona’s handiwork?

“You dislike her so much Miss Collins?” Wren asks. “You blame her for what? Life?”

Nicole puts her cup down in its saucer, “I am not certain precisely what all I do blame you for. But if I were to believe this conceipt of yours . . . that somehow you and Wren occupy the same body – I am perplexed as to just how this all came about . . . I mean, transmigration of souls merely from gunshot wounds? I would think not.”

“No. It was something I was attempting to do – which in hindsight was not as well thought out as I had hoped. I have traversed through time and the universe and most of Dreamlands, as well, but there is one place that has always been an especial challenge, you see—a city, an exemplary city, one that contains all the mysteries that man has striven for in vain. A city of demons and . . . mad things.”

“And Englishmen.” Esther mutters.

Wren looks at her, smiles, and continues, “And, seeing as how the streets of the city are paved with the bones of all those who have dared to enter to never escape – one does need to take certain precautions.”

“You’re talking about Thalarion?”

Wren sits up impressed, “Oh, my you are as good as they hoped. Yes, Thalarion.”

“They hope?” Nicole asks, her eyes narrowing.

“Something else we shall get to a bit later.” Wren takes a sip of tea.

Nicole raised an eyebrow, “There seems a lot we’re going to just be to later. So, Victoria, just how did you think you could enter the City of a Thousand Wonders and leave alive?”

“Well, seeing as how I happened to know the time and place in which Kaye would be shot.”

“You had her shot?” Esther asks lifting up her tea cup and pouring the tea upon the sand to begin filling the cup from her flask.

“No—I just was . . . aware . . .” Wren shook her head, “You see, I have a certain access to—“

“Time?” Nicole interjects.

“Precisely.”

“This evil clergyman of yours, he was to transfer Kaye’s body to you in Dreamlands—you intended for her to die for your sins.”

Esther looks at Nikki. “Evil clergyman?”

“Oh, my, you are good.”

“Only Kaye didn’t die.” Nicole states, “So, why didn’t your clergyman kill her?”

“Well he wasn’t necessarily a clergyman, and he doesn’t necessarily work for me. His . . . clients . . . are bit more distant.”

“I assume by that I can guess whom he was.”

“Then you well know that he does what he pleases.”

“Oh that he does.”

“Who the hell are we talking about?” Esther asks; weary now of this Alice in Wonderland conversation.

Nichole looks at Esther, “Someone we’ve met a time or two. We have seen him as a certain gentleman from New York.”

Esther looks across the table at Nikki, “Oh, good God, does this never end.”

“There are those who would like it too.” Victoria Wren replies evenly.

“What the bloody hell were you thinking – trusting him?”

Kaye or Wren pressed her lips together in a brief confirmation that she was well aware of her mistake – that she should have never have accepted any plan of his. Only the allure of what she knew to be within that repellant city was much too great a temptation – something he knew far too well – having told her where it resided. “She was to be sent to me just as she was about . . ..”

“To die?” Esther says coldly, “Say it—just as she was about to die! You people – life means nothing to you! You wanted her to die so you could what, be some kind of a tourist.”

Wren looks at her and is silent.

“And so, Kaye didn’t die at church.”

“No, and she should have . . . “

“Because he kept her alive?”

“Yes.”

“So whose plan do you think it all truly was?” Nicole asks coldly, “No matter what he told you, you should have known that everything he says is a lie.”

“Not—everything. The trick is actually discerning the truth from his lies. He does tell the truth at times.”

“Excuse me if I beg to differ. But nevertheless, you waited? Outside the gates?”

“Yes.”

“For her to die?” Esther looked at her disgustedly. “Like a vulture.”

“What was he do to – send her physically there rather than her dreamself?”

Wren sips her tea.

“I had to hurry you see as this all had to be done with precision. But – apparently they tried to resuscitate her; and then . . . I awoke in London in hospital and Kaye was in control. It has taken we a while to restrain her.”

Nicole sat back, “I must say, it is an amazing story – really, but, not to sound uncivil, why would I care? Just why am I here?”

Victoria Wren nodded, “Yes, well, I need to explain who I am and how I came to be – so that you would understand, because the important thing is that I have her memories and I know things you need to know.”

“More tea Miss Friedman?” The agent asks

“Meaning?”

Esther shakes a head, “No, I’m good. Thanks!”

“Well—this is going to be a bit . . . ”

“Just tell me.” Nichole sighs, wondering what shoe has yet to fall.

“My father knew your father –”

Nikki sits her teacup down and looks hard across the table, “Go on.”

“My father was given a vision, a dream if you will, of a future . . . a future that he had to stop at all costs, and so he went to see your father – whom we well know has had his own adventures in time and was not at all adverse to changing it.”

“He later came to understand that those changes had consequences.”

“Yes – true. But this future was one in which they had to try and do all they could to change it’s outcome.”

“And what is this future?”

Agent Nine notices Esther’s coat, “I do apologize for the heat.”

“What heat?” Esther frowns, “I don’t see any sun.”

“Very soon someone will ascend to the atop Widow’s Hill with an ancient artifact, the Crimson Pearl—and with it they will open the ultimate gate—allowing the Great Old Ones to return, which will begin the end of Mankind.”

“Widow’s Hill? Collinsport?”

Esther takes another drink from her flask, “Well that can’t be good.”

“Would make Hastur appear little more than a preschooler – this would be Azathoth,” Agent Nine remarks.

“Of course, this was no mere dilemma in which going back into the past could correct the future, for the trick to it all was that your father would have to try and change the future by putting events into place in his present, for they knew he would be unable to try and advert the opening himself as he would be trapped in another dimension.”

“They knew my father would be trapped?”

“Yes, but not precisely how or when—“

“The events that happened in Alexandria?”

“The knowledge of which has forever remained in Alexandria.”

Nicole’s gaze goes cold.

Esther looks around at the scenery, feeling as if she has been left completely behind by conversation —only something here doesn’t quite add up, at least in her formulation of what she’s just heard, “So—okay, you know all this stuff . . . about the future, like when Kaye will get shot, having as you say all this access to time, and yet, you don’t know anything about what happened to Nikki’s father, like what happened to him . . . why can’t you just go back there and see what happened?”

“My abilities come at a price – the tools I use were created by the Old Ones themselves. Yog-sothoth—who is the master of time and space—if he so wants he can cloud time so that I cannot penetrate his will. There are places I simply cannot go.”

“Or there a places that they want you to go.” Nicole mused, “You seem far too intelligent to not to understand that whatever they reveal is only what that want to reveal – and it is never what it seems.”

“Speaking of? Has anyone noticed that the sand has a pattern that just keeps repeating itself on and on?” Esther observes.

Agent Nine smiles, “I’ve had more than a few scones ruined because of the looping.”

“Looping?” Esther looks across the table at her – this al does seem much too much like something out of Alice and Wonderland. “What’s a Scone?”

“We are currently in a time out of time.” Victoria offers as an explanation and only get’s a steely look from Esther.

“You were going to eventually come to a point, Victoria. A point for all of this.’ Nicole sighs.

“I am not at all certain what you have been told about The Experiment—“

Agent Nine suddenly tenses.

“I don’t think we need to go into all of that – again.” Esther says well aware of how much the topic distresses her friend – and apparently Agent Nine as well.

“I know that you have been told that the impetus for it was based upon the hopes of finding a cure for your mother – and that Catriona upon discovering the plan appropriated it in order to use it for her own motivations. Well, that is not entirely true.” Wren continued, her glaze steady on Nicole. “You see, the truth of the matter is that your father came to Catriona.”

Nikki sits silent, her eyes cold, hard, the blue going deep and dark, “You should be very careful with what you are about to say—about my father.”

“Although your father and Dr. Hoffman had made several attempts to repeat Dr. Lang’s experiments – to no avail. Your father had initially rejected Dr. Praetorius’ rather grandiose reconceptualization of the experiment – until that night my father arrived.”

Agent Nine rests her hand on her holster, casually; as she notices that Miss Collins’s nails have cut into the tabletop as her fingers press down.

“Go on?” Nicole says evenly.

“It was upon that night that he decided to try Dr. Praetorius’ mad scheme – for reasons not solely directed in attempting to cure your mother. “

Nine watches the nails dig deeper.

“You see—he knew full well that there had to be someone atop Widow’s Hill to stop the Pearl from being activated. And this person had to be someone very special. And for that person to even exists, then they would have to try the experiment.”

“My father –” Nicole stands up and knocks over the cups as she hits the table, “He wanted to save my mother – not become part of some Diogenes Club science experiment!”

“Nik!” Esther’s concern growing for her friend – will they not leave her alone about this god**ned experiment!

“No Nicole he made you to save the world.”

Agent Nine leans forward, “You should feel proud Miss Collins, not many are born with their life purpose already known and intended.”

“What the bloody hell are you talking about!”

Wren sits for a long silent moment looking across the table at her.

“You are right Nicole in that Kaye’s intent was solely to help your father as it was her intent to create you as a weapon. But your father – your father knew you had to be created in order to be there atop Widow’s Hill. “

“He created me to on top of Widow’s Hill?”

“Yes—I am sorry.”

“Why the bloody hell does it have to me atop that hill!”

“Because the person who will be standing atop Widow’s Hill. The person who will open the gates to allow the Old Ones to return and bring about the end of the world – is your mother, Angelique Collins.”

Cue Music End of Episode