Music echoed from somewhere inside the depths of the Shady Oak Plantation House where a piano played a soft bluesy tune. The phantom melody reached its climax and then pulled back, fading into a remnant before starting over again. As the hands of the clock moved down another notch, Paige grew weak with anxiety. Each breath deeper than the next, she gripped the chair and focused on the picture of Gabriel. The same sad song started over again, played in the same style and key, but the tempo slowed, as if winding down and finally running out of steam, the tempo strained to move. Paige reached across the desk, stuffed the vile into her pocket and read over the notebook paper.

“Dat’s how it’s done,” Vincent said, taking another swig from the bottle. “It was in duh works, but didn’t find what I needed till a year later. You gonna hand dat over tuh me when yuh get back.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, “why can’t I go back before Gabriel drinks the–”

“You go back where I send yuh, exact moment yuh left. Gabriel gonna be dead by den, you meet me in duh morgue, we bring him back. Got a four hour time limit before he’s dead for good.” Vincent rubbed the top of his head and checked his gold watch. “You follow me?”

Paige nodded.

“It’s duh cure for death, Paige, a link to immortality, my leverage. Ain’t nobody gonna tie my hands.”

Paige nodded. She saw the bigger picture. If they bring Gabriel back with the medicine, he’ll forever be dependent upon Vincent, upon getting the next dose, just like Michael. Even if Gabriel refused to keep taking it, he could still be brought back — again, and again, and again. He would become a slave to Vincent, a loyal subject forced into submission. Paige turned away from his picture and swallowed regret.

“When’s the next train?” she asked.

“We send yuh back five minutes before midnight, five minutes before duh start of All Hallow’s Eve. Ain’t dat somethin’? Perfect timin.”

“That’s six hours from now,” she gasped, “I could just step on this square and go back right now.”

Vincent slammed the bottle down and shot up from the desk, “Yuh ain’t in control! I am! I say when yuh go back!” He grabbed the picture of Gabriel and threw it across the room. The metal frame slammed into a long mirror hanging over the altar, cracking it down the middle. The candles flames multiplied. Paige jumped from her chair.

“I control what happens next! I control duh time! I’m duh creator!” Vincent grabbed his yellow fedora hat and popped it on his head. He pointed at Paige with his half-smoked cigar, “Gabriel’s mine,” he said. “You are too.”

Paige looked down, took two steps to the left and stood on the large white square. The lights flickered and a loud pop sent the room into darkness, but an all-consuming brightness took over. The walls crumbled around her and she stumbled forward as the ground grew soft beneath her feet. She fell to her knees and slapped her hands on the floor, crying out as they sank into a bottomless square. She struggled to remain conscious, but the white-washed room swallowed her whole until a strong kick knocked her across the floor. She slid into a bookshelf where the impish sculpture wobbled and steadied, its glassy eyes sizing her up.

“Best watch yourself girl,” Vincent said. “Yuh not careful, gonna end up at duh witch trials. Try dat again, gonna be lost for good.” The halogen bulbs flickered as Vincent turned on his boots and strolled back to his desk, the clicking of his cane catching the down-beat. Paige stood from the floor and backed up against the bookcase.

“Please,” she said, “I’d like to find the others. I’ll be back before it’s time, you have my word.”

Vincent took a drink from the bottle and relit his cigar. “Don’t want your word, little girl. Ain’t got nowhere tuh go, so yuh best sit down, my patience wearin’ thin.”

Paige turned her back to him and scanned over his books as she walked the length of the tall bookshelf. The sculpture with the goat-like ears and clawed fingers watched her, provoking mischief with its beady eyes. “You’ll be passed out drunk by midnight,” she said. “Are you trying to recreate the moment or is this your normal dose?”

“Sit down!”

Paige glared at the sculpture. She despised its dead eyes and perverse smirk. Her hatred evolved the longer she stared. She focused, her emotions compressing into one–love and hate, fear and sorrow, anger. She held her focus. The impish sculpture wobbled closer to the edge. She narrowed her focus. Tunnel vision. Her energy charged the air. The sculpture toppled over and crashed to the floor as Darwin’s hardback book, The Descent of Man, followed behind, crushing its pages and landing spine up. Vincent clapped his hands and howled with laughter.

“Paige in duh zone now! Usin’ what I gave her!”

She walked across the room and stopped to retrieve the photograph of Gabriel from the chards of glass on the floor. Stroking the lock of hair in her pocket, she stepped around the large white square and took her seat across from him.

“I remember you,” she said. “I remember what you’ve done to my friends and loved ones. I remember what kind of man you are and the things you’re into. That evil little statue deserved its fate.”

Vincent nodded and snapped his fingers, “Symbolism, got it. You an me, we don’t need tuh get along little girl, but yuh best step off dat horse. I’m real tolerant till I’m not.” He closed his eyes and inhaled the air as a smile spread across his face. “Hold it tuh your nose, Paige, dat hair clippin’ still smells like duh ocean. You an me, we gonna have our cake an eat it too.”

Paige shuddered and looked down at the photo, his signature scowl pleading with her to let him rest. “He doesn’t want to come back,” she said under her breath. “He’s happy where he is.”

“What’s dat? Speak up girl.”

“We can’t do this,” she said softly, and then spoke louder to Vincent, “you can’t go around playing God.”

“Oh, but I can,” he replied, “an what’s dis ‘bout God? Seems I recall you not believin’ such things.”

“Gabriel did,” she said. “He worried about his soul.”

“Dat boy carried duh weight,” Vincent replied. “Said he don’t want tuh be a creation of mad science, as he put it, said he found religion, found God. Only thing he found was me.” He smiled and took another swig, “After I made Abbey, I quit handin’ out free will.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen your newest creations,” she said. “Zombies. Soulless creatures that should be put out of their misery.”

“If you got a soul, dey got a soul.”

Paige crossed her arms and looked away.

“Gabriel had duh same problem,” Vincent said. “Feared he was soulless, mighta been right, I don’t care tuh know. I believe in heaven, an I believe in hell, but I plan on stayin’ right here.”

“So you do believe in God?” she asked.

“I believe duh Luciferian Doctrine, we can all become like gods, if we’re privy.”

Paige smiled and sat up in her seat, “You’re a devil worshipper. I knew it.”

“Lucifer ain’t no devil!” he exclaimed. “Lucifer is Light.”

The candles on the altar reached for the ceiling as a new batch of wax spilled over and wrapped around the assortment of offerings and picture frames. Paige looked again at the paintings on the wall, the scorched phoenix and the all-seeing-eye; she wanted to destroy those too. She wanted to obliterate her surroundings.

“I can’t do this,” she said. “I can’t do this to him.”

Vincent swallowed the last drop from the whiskey bottle and threw it across the room, laughing as it smashed into a portrait painting of a bearded, middle-aged man. “You do what I tell yuh!” he exclaimed. “If yuh refuse, yuh stuck here! Ain’t nobody savin’ yuh from dat sick spell!”

“I’ll take my chances,” Paige said, standing from the chair.

“Sit down!”

Ignoring the order, Paige bolted for the double wooden doors. Sorrow begged her to reconsider and grief spoke louder than Vincent’s rage, but she suppressed her tears and silenced her heart. The necklace scalded her chest, and she heard it, like the wind blowing through the tall stalks of sugarcane, she heard Gabriel’s breathless sigh of relief. Vincent’s roar transformed into a low growl.

“Paige gonna die, just like dat fly. Ain’t got no soul. Got nowhere tuh go.”

She pushed on the heavy doors but they refused to budge. She rammed her shoulder, but they stood un-rattled.

“Paige gonna die, just like dat fly. Ain’t got no soul. Got nowhere tuh go.”

She body-slammed the doors, kicking and pounding them into submission, but they stood firm and unaffected.

“Paige gonna die, just like dat fly. Ain’t got no soul. Got nowhere tuh go.”

“Stop it!”

Vincent smiled and tapped his gold-handled cane on the floor, “Ain’t always up tuh me. Yuh better catch dat fly. Paige gonna catch dat fly.”

 She banged on the doors and yelled for help as the cuckoo clocks chimed out of synch and out of tune, signaling the top of the hour. Five hours till midnight, she thought, I’ll never make it. Vincent mimicked the clocks, laughing and chanting, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, until the owls retreated back into their holes for the last time. He checked his gold watch and lit a fresh cigar.

“Gonna take yuh down to duh fire, little girl,” he said, flicking his lighter. “Owls tell duh spiders what tuh weave. Ain’t always up tuh me.”

Paige slid down the doors, pulled up her knees and buried her head in her arms. She tried to do the right thing. She tried to give Gabriel his wish, but trapped in the library with a mad scientist and a portal to the past, she lost her battle against sorrow. She admitted defeat and let her mind explore the possibility of his reluctant return.

With slumped shoulders, Vincent settled back down at his desk and removed his hat, gently setting it aside with the top down. “Ain’t always up tuh me,” he muttered. “I’m goin’ underground. Wait till duh smoke clears.”

“What smoke,” she asked, keeping her head buried in her arms.

“Dey pullin’ plugs girl. Can’t fight duh system, comply or die.” He sighed and shook his head, “Feelin’ like grease on a grill, ‘xcuse me.” Reaching into his desk, Vincent pulled out a syringe and a vile of clear liquid. “Already got dis cooked up,” he said, rolling up his sleeve. Paige picked herself up and stood before Vincent while he finished injecting the medicine.

“Who’s pulling plugs?” she asked. “The Council?”

“Dey reducin’ numbers, keepin’ things balanced. It’s all about balance girl, now you know dat.” Vincent rolled his sleeve back down and puffed on his cigar. Paige noticed the difference immediately. His ashen face regained color and brightened as the deep creases disappeared from his eyes and forehead. He straightened his posture and twirled his hat before replacing it on his head.

“Mankind evolvin’,” he said, “gotta weed out duh weak from duh strong, survival of duh fittest, universal rule.”

“Aren’t you on the Council?” she asked.

Vincent pulled out another bottle of whiskey from his desk drawer and unscrewed the top. “Lights ain’t comin’ back on, Paige. Council control duh sun an everythin’ under it. Solar flare was just duh beginnin’.”

“The beginning of what?” she asked.

Vincent smiled and enjoyed a long drink. “Order outta chaos, duh rebirth. Dey settin’ off fault lines. West Coast gonna bleed from duh map. People gonna start gettin’ real sick real soon, ain’t no cure comin’.”

“What do you mean? Who’s getting sick?”

“Region by region, duh sickness gonna spread in less dan a week. Ain’t nobody gettin’ out alive.”

“And this makes you happy?” she asked.

“Makes me bout as happy as a whore on ice. Don’t matter what I think.”

Paige grew sick to her stomach. She shook her head and backed away from his desk. “You’re lying,” she said. “You’re just trying to get me to go along with the plan.”

“Ain’t no palm readin’ prophecy, girl. You know duh real deal when it comes tuh be. Bio-warfare, little girl.”

“You’re lying,” she said again.

Vincent laughed and checked his gold pocket watch, “Better get behind dat mule, Paige, ain’t got nowhere tuh go!”

The same sad song played throughout the house and an infant wailed from the next room over. Paige held her ears and caught her balance as the dizzy spell returned and a migraine pierced her eyes.

Vincent sighed and tapped his finger on the desk, “Kendal need tuh pick a new song.”

Paige gasped and rubbed her forehead, “That baby’s been crying all night!” she moaned.

“What baby? Ain’t no baby.”

Caught off guard by Regan’s voice, Paige whipped around expecting to see her standing in the library. Billy’s coming for you, Paige. Meet us in the courtyard. Oh yeah, and don’t step on the big white square! Paige shook her head and looked down at the big white square muddied with her footprints.

“Who dat?” Vincent grinned. “Get a message? Let me guess, lovely little Regan, my double-crossin’ daughter.”

“No, no message,” she shrugged.

Tracing a long scar down his cheek, Vincent asked, “You playin’ me girl? I know you. I made you. What’s duh scheme dis time?”

The large wooden doors creaked open and Professor Faraday appeared. His arms dangled by his side as he walked across the room at a controlled pace. Vincent stood from his desk and held out his hands.

“Billy Boy, nice tuh see yuh. Go ahead an stop right dere. We not gonna let dis little birdy fly away, yuh hear me now?”

Paige ran to meet him and then stopped, disturbed by his vacant eyes. The lights flicked off and the candles blew out leaving the library shrouded in darkness. Standing motionless, she struggled to adjust her eyes as a pungent smell polluted the air and burned her nostrils. She crept forward with outstretched arms, flinching as the infant’s wail pierced her ears. She inched closer to the double wooden doors, but a warm breath rustled the back of her hair and she lunged forward, falling into the clutches of a tall dark figure. She flailed her legs and screamed as the tall figure tightened his grip and lifted her off the ground. Her body fell limp. The candles on the altar blinked back to life and Vincent stood before her, his muddy red aura pulsating. Channeling her emotions—fear, anger and grief—she forced the clone to loosen his grip and wiggled her way to freedom. Backing against the wall, she glared at the imposture as fever burned from within and rage exploded into action. The professor’s clone shot across the room and fell to the floor, landing on the big white square. Paige shielded her eyes as a geyser of light shot up from the ground and engulfed the clone, overwhelming his body with blinding luminosity. As the stream of light dimmed and withdrew into the ground, the white square sat empty, solid and wiped clean of footprints. The smell of burnt chemicals lingered in the air. Paige stood frozen against the wall. Vincent exploded into laughter.

“Million tuh one shot!” he exclaimed, tipping his hat. “How ‘bout dat!”

Paige stared into his polished eyes and waited for his next move. Animated shadows jerked and trembled on the vaulted ceiling as he turned and strolled to the other side of the library. The double wooden doors rattled and swung open, forced into compliance by a silent wind. Inching closer to the exit, Paige walked backwards keeping her eyes on Vincent.

“I can’t give him the medicine,” she shouted. “Please, just send me back!”

Vincent stood on the far side of the library, illuminated by the moonlight shining through a small circular window. “Gonna need dat recipe, girl!”

She pulled out the piece of notebook paper and held it in the air, “Tell me you’ll send me back first!”

“Give it up, girl!”

She continued walking backwards until Vincent sprinted across the room with the cane held high above his head. “Ain’t got no soul! Got nowhere tuh go! Paige gonna catch dat fly!”

Screaming, she whipped around and darted for the doors as Vincent chased her down, laughing and chanting and banging his cane on the ground. She stepped across the threshold and the doors slammed shut behind her. Sorrow settled in as she retreated for the stairs. Gabriel was gone for good.