Stolen Heaven
part 17

Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
                --William Shakespeare, MacBeth

        Derek sat at his desk, waiting for Sloan's appearance on the screen. The 
person who had answered his call had seemed rather upset about having to go wake 
his Precept at such an ungodly hour, but when Derek told him Sloan himself had 
insisted he call no matter what time, he rolled his eyes and said, "I'll go get 
him then..." Derek wasn't certain, but he thought he heard a muttered comment 
about "Damned San Francisco House, full of lunatics..." as the man walked out of 
the room.
        A few minutes later Sloan appeared on-screen, dressed in pajamas and a 
robe, looking as if he had been sitting up waiting for the call. "Ah, Derek," he 
said lightly, a smile curling his lips but not reaching his eyes, "I was 
wondering if I was going to hear from you any time soon...Nick said you were -- 
sleeping it off..."
        "So I was, William," Derek answered calmly. This was a game he was used 
to, but he certainly did not enjoy it... "I was rather heavily drugged, and 
needed time to get rid of the hangover."
        "Yes, so I understand," Sloan answered, looking aside at something Derek 
couldn't quite make out, "Numerous herbal compounds, opiates, MDMA, and some 
substance no test has been able to identify yet," he read from the hidden 
papers. "I'm a little curious about why it didn't seem to be affecting Arkadi at 
all, since it seems that at least some of it was in the incense he was 
burning...I understand Rachel thinks we're lucky you didn't die from an 
overdose..." he continued, looking back at Derek. 
        Derek frowned slightly. Sloan's expression was still pleasant but his 
eyes had hardened even further, and Derek could read the challenge quite 
plainly. "Yes, she mentioned that. I didn't exactly *ask* him to drug me, 
William, and I have no idea *why* he wasn't affected... As a matter of fact, if 
I'm not mistaken, that combination of drugs should have been rather detrimental 
to the activity we were...engaging in. All I can figure is that the herbal 
compounds and this unknown substance counteracted that specific effect of the 
narcotics..."
        "Either that, or the spell," Sloan ventured, carefully studying Derek's 
reaction.
        Derek's brow creased momentarily, just long enough to betray his 
discomfort to Sloan, then smoothed as he schooled his expression. "Yes, the 
spell. From what we can figure, he was trying to awaken my angelic side..."
        "Yes; using a scroll he bought from a dig worker in Qumran -- who, by 
the way, was later found murdered," Sloan said quietly. "Derek, why on earth 
would you take that kind of risk? You *know* what Victor Arkadi's capable of..."
        "Yes, William, I know full well what he's capable of, which is why I had 
to get Philip away from him. If they already told you about the scroll and the 
spell, then I'm *sure* they also told you what happened to him," Derek said, 
unable to keep the irritation from his voice now.
        "Yes. Nick -- and Rachel," Sloan said, finally showing Derek the sheaf 
of faxes he had been reading from, "gave me full reports. I know what he was 
doing to Philip."
        "Then you know I--"
        "Derek," Sloan cut in firmly, "we *discussed* this kind of thing when 
your sister was kidnapped. We can't afford to give in to that kind of demand 
because of personal feelings. Cold as it may sound, you should never have risked 
yourself for him."
        Derek shook his head and said, "It was *nothing* like the situation with 
Ingrid, William. Angeline wanted an *artifact* that could have given her and her 
followers eternal life in service of the dark side. All Victor would have gotten 
was *me*."
        Sloan frowned -- the first *true* expression Derek had seen from him 
since the call began -- and asked, "And exactly what do you think he planned to 
do with *you* if he had been successful, Derek?"
        "Most likely, keep me chained to his bed," Derek murmured angrily.
        "I suspect, more likely, that he would have used you as a weapon against 
the Legacy -- and a more powerful one since you would have whatever abilities 
the Nephilim have," Sloan answered angrily. "We already *know* from the letters 
he tried to send to your father that he planned to use you against the Legacy."
        "Yes, I guess we do," Derek answered, "although 'we' would have probably 
been better off if *someone* had seen fit to share that information when it was 
first discovered, instead of hiding the letter away..." His brow creased darkly 
and he continued, "Just how many letters were there, William? Did they all have 
photos? What did you *do* with the rest of them?"
        "Derek," Sloan said tiredly, "We already discussed why no one warned you 
-- you wouldn't have listened to a member of the Legacy anyway. I'm sorry he 
hurt you -- I'm sorry he was using you -- but it's too late to do anything about 
it now..."
        "And the other letters, other photos?" Derek pressed, well aware of the 
fact that Sloan had skipped over that part of his accusation.
        "I didn't receive them," Sloan answered softly, "They were sent directly 
to the Ruling House. I -- inherited them from my predecessor, Sir Edmond 
Tremaine..."
        Sloan watched as the colour drained from Derek's face. Derek swallowed 
convulsively and asked, "Sir Edmond *knew*?"
        When Sloan nodded, Derek closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 
Unbidden, memories rose in his mind's eye and he remembered what the previous 
Ruling Precept had told him when he was before the Legacy Tribunal for suspected 
collusion with the dark side: "I'm glad your father's not alive to see what's 
become of his son -- how wounded he would have been..." His thoughts whirled 
chaotically -- did that mean that Sir Edmond had assumed he was evil *because* 
of his relationship with Arkadi? If that was the case, then the ex-Precept most 
likely still suspected him; why had nothing further been said? After all, Sir 
Edmond was *still* a member of the Legacy, he had just been transferred to 
another House...
        A deep sense of foreboding settled over him and he shivered slightly, 
lost in thought until Sloan's voice startled him out of it again.
        "Derek, are you all right?" the London Precept repeated, worried that 
perhaps Derek had not recovered enough from his experience after all.
        "I-- ah -- I'm sorry, William," Derek answered, shaking himself back to 
alertness. "I suspect it's going to take a little while to shake off the full 
effect of the drugs..."
        "Of course," Sloan said, "I won't keep you too much longer..." He would 
let Derek off the hook for now, but sooner or later they would have to deal with 
this again. "About the scroll Arkadi got the spell from; we've put a couple of 
people from Cairo House on the dig at Qumran. They'll alert us as soon as he 
shows up."
        "Might be a good idea to see if they can find the missing fragments of 
the scroll *before* he gets there," Derek suggested.
        "Yes," Sloan agreed, "They'll be trying to locate it, but you know as 
well as I do how difficult that could be. And if it came from the twelfth cave 
they way Philip suspects it did, they'll have a hard time getting in there 
without exposing the regular archaeologists to potential danger..."
        "Ah -- so Philip suspects it came from the twelfth cave," Derek mused. 
"That explains my susceptibility to it..."
        "That's what Nick's report suggests," Sloan explained, "since you've 
already fallen under the influence of something from that cave..."
        "Don't remind me," Derek said with a grimace. Then he took a deep breath 
and said, "Philip's left to do some soul-searching -- with everything that's 
happened, he's got a lot to think about. I'm afraid his ordeal may have driven 
him away from me..."
        "I don't think that will happen," Sloan reassured him, "although he 
definitely *will* need some time to deal with both Arkadi's assault on him *and* 
his tangle with that angel..." He glanced down at the faxes again and added, 
"Nick says Philip stood up to him and managed to send him away..."
        "Ja -- it was Semjaza, the co-leader of the Watchers...I believe he 
helped Victor find the spell scroll *and* told him how to use it..." He shivered 
slightly, the sensations from his vision of Arkadi and the Watcher sliding along 
his nerves for an instant and causing a flare of arousal that he tried 
desperately to repress. "He seems to want me to join them," he murmured softly. 
"I think it may very well be possible to use me as bait to lure them in; but 
considering the consequences should something go wrong...I can't do this, 
William. This is one risk I don't think I'm willing to take for the Legacy."
        "That's okay, Derek, now that I understand the danger, I would never ask 
it of you. The thought of someone who knows as much as you do about the Legacy, 
working for the dark side is a bit more than I'm willing to deal with..."
        "Thanks for the concern," Derek muttered wryly, earning himself an 
apologetic look before Sloan continued.
        "Look, Derek, this whole incident -- there are things we *need* to 
discuss. I'm going to be heading back out there as soon as I can get matters 
cleared up here," Sloan said. He paused to look around, making sure no one else 
was present, then asked, "*Are* you all right, Derek?"
        There was honest concern in his tone, and Derek sighed and shrugged as 
he answered. "I don't really know, William...Because of the -- condition -- they 
found me in, Rachel wants me to get counseling. *I* see no reason for it in this 
case -- I'm tired of people thinking there's something *wrong* with me because 
of it; tired of having to justify my tastes...I'm worried about how my friends 
will react, now that they know this much about me..."
        "Derek," Sloan said quietly, "if they're really your friends they won't 
judge you -- you *know* that."
        "Ja, you're right, William," Derek answered, "I'll be fine -- I just 
need a little time for this to blow over..."
        "You're sure?" Sloan asked, genuinely concerned about his friend. No 
matter how much Derek *said* he was all right, he would worry until they could 
speak again, face-to-face.
        When Derek nodded again, he sighed and said, "Okay, Derek; I'll finish 
things up here, then fly back there for a little talk. Don't think this lets you 
off the hook, though -- I *do* still want to discuss your -- lack of prompt 
reports, among other things."
        "I never doubted it for a moment," Derek answered. "Go to sleep, 
William, I'll see you soon..."
                                   --==**==--
Epilogue

In my heart
In my heart your love is the kiss of death...
--ice in my falling tears clouds your image in my eyes
Cold as my glance is for you
Flame that burns my frozen heart clothed in black and leather love,
Chains my heart once again to you...
                --The Shroud, "Kiss of Death"

        After Sloan signed off, Derek shut down the sat-link and stood, 
stretching, behind his desk. For a long moment he stared into the middle 
distance, then finally he shook himself back to alertness and walked to the 
window. He stared out across the bay, thinking about Philip and the ordeal his 
friend had faced. *Gott, Philip,* he thought, finally, *I am so sorry you were 
pulled into this...* Then he closed his eyes sadly and leaned his forehead 
wearily against the window. *But I can't apologize for what I've been -- for 
what I am...*
        He sighed and straightened, then returned to his desk and unlocked the 
drawer that held his private journal. Sitting down at his desk, he stared at the 
new blank page for a long time, summoning the courage to write.
        Finally, he placed pen to paper, and began to write in the code he, 
William Sloan, and Spencer Croft had devised:
        "After discovering that the mysterious 'Rayne Heritage' my father spoke 
of was my family's tie to the fallen Grigori and the Nephilim, I unfortunately 
ran into Victor Arkadi while I was confused and vulnerable.
        "Victor had captured Philip, and to save my sweet friend, I gave myself 
to Victor in his place. I can't deny that part of me was eager to make the 
exchange --I wouldn't be surprised if Philip never wants to touch me again -- I 
don't think he will ever be able to reconcile what he now knows about me, and 
the pain and terror he himself suffered at Victor's hands...
        "When I gave myself to Victor to save Philip, it all came right back to 
me -- the intensity, the overwhelming desire to let go all of the restraints I 
put on myself every day...Even with the fears I deal with every time someone 
tries to top me...
        "But then again, it may have been the drugs -- I know there was 
something in the incense Victor burned, and I have vague recollections of a 
bitter herbal tea. I know that at the very least, I was under the influence of a 
powerful combination of drugs that served to lower all inhibitions...Not to 
mention whatever spells Victor had cast, including the one he tried to use to 
give me wings...
        "And yet -- I know it's not all drugs and spells. They would have never 
worked so well if the desire hadn't been there all along. I may have buried it 
over the years, but it never truly went away.
        "And now Rachel wants me to talk about this with someone. How can I do 
that? How do I find a counselor who can understand the things I feel -- why 
should I justify my desires?! And how do I explain to anyone the *hunger* this 
ordeal seems to have awakened? The longing for the power I can feel, just out of 
reach -- the power I *know* I must deny!
        "How do I talk to a stranger when I can't even bring myself to explain 
to my friends -- or my lovers -- that in other days even without the drugs and 
spells, I would have welcomed everything Victor did to me?
        "How do I explain the dreams I have -- good dreams, not nightmares -- 
where my lover unties me and turns me over to kiss me, and instead of Nick or 
Philip, it is Victor who smiles down at me?!"
        He sighed and stopped writing, then spent a while massaging his hand. 
His thoughts were flying faster than he could write in the code, and his hand 
ached from trying to keep up.
        After vigourously shaking out both hands, he picked up the pen again and 
continued, "But this is senseless -- it will help no one except our enemies. I 
must deny these desires and get on with my life and duties as Precept of the San 
Francisco House, at least for as long as William allows me to keep this 
position.
        "I must be strong -- I would be a fool to think this was the last I'll 
see of Victor, and I must be ready when he returns..."
                                   --==**==--
                               The End -- For Now...

Poltergeist: The Legacy is (c) 1998 MGM/UA and Trilogy Entertainment. This story 
is not intended to infringe on these copyrights. Stolen Heaven is (c) 1998 
Penemuel