Chapter Eight
I awoke to the sight of piercing crimson eyes staring directly into my own. Nearly falling off the bed in alarm, I managed to grab the headboard with one hand and steady myself.
"Vincent!" I heard myself say in a reproachful tone. He quickly turned his gaze to the ceiling, as I tried to calm my frantically beating heart.
"What're you trying to do, give me a heart attack?" I asked, getting to my feet.
"No," he answered matter-of-factly, his eyes now fixed firmly on the water-stained patch of ceiling above him. It seemed that now he had sufficiently scared the crap out of me with his gaze, he was determined not to look at me at all.
I spotted my pack lying at the foot of the bed where I'd left it, and crouched down beside it, rummaging through its contents for the small lantern I had brought. I appeared to have slept all afternoon; dusk was approaching, and I wanted some light to dispel the sinister gloom that was settling on the mansion. Once I had lit the wick of the lantern with my Fire materia, I slowly approached the bed.
"How are you feeling?" I asked lightly. Vincent's luminous eyes flickered to me for a moment, then returned to the ceiling.
"I am well enough, considering the circumstances."
It was more of an answer than I'd been expecting from him, and his words surprised me. I decided it was time to stop beating around the bush, and find out just what had happened at the hidden pool.
"Vincent, what happened to you?"
"I …do not know," he said, sounding just as confused about it as I did.
"You don't—what do you mean? I heard those wolves howling last night—" I paused as my mind flashed to the nightmare I'd had, but I quickly brushed the memory aside. "They attacked you, didn't they?"
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you fight them off? Why didn't you…transform?" I asked, my voice stumbling awkwardly over the last word. I knew Vincent's demonic alter egos were something of a sensitive subject for him, to put it mildly.
"I tried. For some reason, I was unable to bring them forth." This time, Vincent met my gaze, and I held it for a long time as his words sank in.
"What does it mean?" I said quietly. The atmosphere in the room had suddenly become a lot heavier. Vincent let out a deep, almost melancholy sigh.
"I wish I knew."
I decided to leave Vincent alone with his thoughts for awhile, and went back to my house to prepare a decent meal for the both of us. Vincent hadn't eaten anything in days—or perhaps even longer than that, judging by this thin appearance—and I'd been living on dry cereal and canned food in the mansion.
Once again, I was greeted by sidelong glances and hushed whispers from the townsfolk, but I ignored them as usual, making a beeline for my house. Having reached the relative safety of my kitchen, I foraged in the cupboards and refrigerator for a few minutes, dismayed to see the considerable lack of food there.
"Guess I have to face the music," I told myself, letting out an audible sigh as I trudged back out the front door and down to the General Store.
Back when I'd lived in Nibelheim as a kid, the store had been owned by my friend Johnny's parents. Now it was run by a stout, portly woman who flashed me a simpering smile as I came in.
"Could I get a pound of Chocobo, a loaf of bread and…." I took a moment to browse the selection of items as the woman bustled about, pulling things off shelves and bagging them with a speed that belied her girth. I remembered Vincent's wounds, and made a mental checklist in my mind of the medical supplies I had. After adding a handful of potions to the mix, among other things, I quickly paid the woman her gil and grabbed the bag, preparing to make a hasty retreat.
"Excuse me," the woman's soft voice came from behind me, and I turned back around to face her. I knew what was coming.
"You're from AVALANCHE, right?" I plastered a smile on my face and nodded, groaning inside.
"Yes, I used to be." I replied as cheerfully as I could through gritted teeth. The woman gave me another brilliant smile.
"I'd heard you took care of whatever was living in the mansion…is that true?" She asked. I reflected on the question of a moment, the smile on my face turning from fake to ironic as I pictured Vincent, lying bandaged in the mansion, then glanced at the bag of food in my hands, which I was about to cook for him.
"Well, yes, I suppose you could say I'm taking care of whatever is living in there," I replied, turning on my heel and heading toward the exit.
"Thank you!" The woman shouted as I left, and once again, I smiled, genuinely this time.
"Oh, if you only knew…"
Equipped with a bag of freshly prepared sandwiches, I made my way back to the Shin-Ra mansion. When I reached the bedroom, the bag slipped from my fingers, making a dull, mushy thud as it fell to the floor.
Vincent was gone.
I frantically scanned the room for any sign of where he may have gone, but there was no trace of him to be found. I spun around and dashed down the hallway, stirring up clouds of dust as I ran. The two bedrooms and small bathroom at the other end of the house were also empty, and I felt my palms growing cold and sticky with sweat. Where on earth could he have gone?
Apprehension flooded through me, then curled up in my stomach like a lead weight as I went back into Vincent's bedroom. Settling myself on the bed, I buried my head in my hands, then ran them through my hair in an attempt to clear my mind.
But all my thoughts were chased away by the sudden thump—followed by a muffled groan—that came from somewhere behind the wall. I let out a heavy sigh, half in relief, half in frustration, then got to my feet and walked into the next room.
The door to the basement had been left open, and as I peered inside I could make out a distinct silhouette in the shadows.
"Vincent?" I called, my voice echoing off the stone walls. Two faintly glowing red orbs appeared in the inky depths, telling me he was down there. Moving carefully but quickly, I went down the rickety plank staircase to meet him. Once my eyes had adjusted to the dark, I could see Vincent bracing himself against the wall, his body shaking with exertion and covered in sweat.
"Vincent, what on the Planet are you doing?" I asked, slipping an arm around his waist to support him. I felt him stiffen at my touch, but he didn't recoil, knowing he couldn't stand much longer on his own. "You shouldn't be down here," I admonished, my voice filled with concern. "Come on, I'm taking you back to bed."
"No," Vincent replied firmly, pushing my arm away. "I must complete my task." It took me a minute to register what he meant, the realization dawned on me.
"But Vincent, if something strange is happening to you, Hojo's files may be able to give us some clues!" I said, almost pleading with him.
"Hojo's files… must be destroyed," Vincent said through clenched teeth, his eyes filled with cold resolution.
"Then…at least let me help you," I offered with a resigned sigh. Vincent eyed me for a moment, surprised at first, then reluctant. Finally, though, he nodded.
We began our slow, steady trek down into the basement. Vincent refused any further assistance, but I could see him wincing in agony every time he took a step. I moved down to stand beside him, ready to catch him if he fell, and he froze. That was when I felt it. The ancient piece of wood, unable to bear both our weights at once, gave one last protesting groan, then collapsed.
All I could do was scream as we plunged into the darkness.