Title: Child of Darkness, Child of Light Author: Hilary Appease the lawyers: Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter and 1013 productions, not me. I used them without permission, yatta yatta yatta. Leanne Cauthorn is mine though. Author's note: Hi all! Here it is, my latest attempt at writing fan-fic. This's a sequel to "...lest a Beast I Become". It's not necessary to read "Beast" before this one, but it might be a little confusing if you haven't. Also, a small hint. Pay close attention to the dates, the years in particular. Otherwise it could get a wee bit messy... Summary: Another connection to 1950s agent Cauthorn ______________________________________________ October 20th, 1995 1:37 AM Hmm? Oh. Hello. What do you want? Alright. I'll be there in a few minutes. Got to be real quiet, can't wake mom 'n dad. They'd never understand. Get dressed, quickly! Not much time, can't afford to be late. Not sure why, Don't Question! Just hurry. Don't turn on the lights, ten steps, hop over the squeaky one. Three more, hit the floor-hey! I'm a poet an' I don't know it. Don't be immature, this is important! Alright. Pull yourself together. This is it. Get the key, be careful not to drop it. You'll never find it again in the dark. Good. Unlock the door, open it. Quietly! Now. Turn the key in the lock, and close it. It'll lock itself now. Now where? Sure I know where that is. I'm a kid, but I'm not stupid. Hey! Who are those guys, an' what are they doing here so late at night? Come to think of it, what am I doing here so late at night? What are you doing? Who are you? You can't do this to me! Help me, someone, please, help me! ______________________________________________ October 21st, 1995 2:30 PM Special Agent Dana Scully sighed deeply and slumped further down in her chair, glaring balefully at the pile of forms on her desk. This had to be the worst part of working in the X Files. The paperwork. Especially the expense forms. The desk jockeys up in recompenses probably spent most of their time laughing at their applications for reimbursement. "Hey Scully!" Dana looked up as her partner's voice broke into her reverie. "Something wrong, Mulder?" She asked, almost eagerly. Even Frohike would be better than these forms. Well, maybe. "Interested in something a little more strenuous than paper-pushing?" Fox Mulder grinned as he crossed over to her desk, holding a file in the air. Oh oh. He only smiles like that when he's found something I'm going to hate. "Depends what you have in mind, Mulder. Werewolves, or alien parasites?" Scully dropped the forms back onto her desk and leaned back in her chair. What now? If it was another wild-goose chase like the last one... "I didn't think you believed in werewolves, Scully." Mulder shoved over a teetering stack of papers and perched on the edge of his desk. "And it's neither. A series of kidnappings across three states." As he spoke, Mulder got up and began to set up the slide projector. Here we go again. Mulder finished fiddling with the machine, and turned it on. "Over the past month, eight kidnappings have taken place." Pictures of teenagers flashed on the wall. "Three in Minnesota, four in Michigan, and the latest in Illinois. The only thing all the victims had in common was age. All of them were in between 11 and 14 years old." He paused on a slide of a serious young woman. "This is the latest victim. She disappeared out of her parents home two nights ago. The door was locked from the inside in the morning, and all that was missing was a set of clothing, which she was presumably wearing." His speech over, Mulder turned and looked at Scully expectantly. Well, this looks normal enough. For a change. Why would he bother with this one? There's got to be more here than he's letting on. "So what's our interest in this, Mulder?" Scully sat back and waited for the other shoe to drop. "I was just getting to that." The slide changed to an evidence photograph, the kind taken at crime scenes. It was the body of a boy, Scully guessed around 12 years old. "Robert Davis was found in a shallow grave behind an abandoned church in Charlevoix, Michigan. He had been exsanguinated, drained completely, but no blood was found at the scene. This corresponds to an X-File from 1954. A series of cult killings almost exactly like this one." "And you think this cult has been resurrected?" "Maybe, maybe not. But pack your bags, Scully. We're going to Greendale, Illinois. ______________________________________________ March 14th, 1954 12:55 AM She was dreaming. A nice dream for once, not those verdammt nightmares that had started again recently. A loud pounding on the door jerked her out of her much-needed rest. "Hey Cauthorn, up-'n-at-'em!" Jacobs. Does the man ever sleep? Leanne Cauthorn muttered sleepily under her breath as she crossed the small, dingy motel room and unfastened the chain that locked the door. "It's the middle of the night, Jacobs. What do you want?" The slender brunette glared at her partner as he stood outside her door. They had been working together for about four months now, and except for times like this, generally got along. But this case had been wearing on both of their nerves. "Get dressed, Cauthorn. They've just found another body." The police commissioner turned to face the two agents as they walked up to the cordoned-off crime scene. Cauthorn flashed her badge and asked for an update on what had happened. The commissioner glanced at her, then proceeded to ignore her completely and talk to Jacobs. Here we go again. It always seemed to turn out this way. Either she'd be ignored, patronized, or propositioned. I am not in the mood to put up with this crap tonight. She walked over to where the pathologist was examining the body. A girl this time, just a kid. No more than 14 years old. Just like the rest, completely drained of blood, and those two funny marks on the neck. "Estimated time of death?" "About 12:00 tonight. Witness says some guys in funny robes dumped her here." The pathologist was a gruff man, not given to wasting words. That would be all she could get from him now. Cauthorn turned and strode over to where an older woman, presumably the witness, was having hysterics about the "poor dear thing". A harried officer was trying desperately to take a statement, and not succeeding. "Such a dear, sweet girl. Such a good girl. Her family has always been good people. Why her? Such a dear girl, poor dear thing." Jacobs walked up behind her and began reading from his notes. "Victim's name is Beatrice Conally. 13 years old, attends St. Helen's school for girls, straight 'A' student, member of a 'good deeds club', your typical teenager from small-town America." "Any motive for this one? Was she mixed up in this cult as well?" "No way of knowing. Her father is the minister here. He's in a position to be a part of this, but would he do this to his own daughter? Anyway, the witness claims to have seen people dressed in some kind of red robes leaving the body here." "That doesn't make any sense, Jacobs. Why were they so obvious? There've been no witnesses before because there hasn't been any chance for a witness. Why are they suddenly socareless?" "Complacency? They've been safe so far, what reason would they have to believe they'd be in danger now?" "Maybe. But something still feels very wrong here." ______________________________________________ October 22nd, 1995 10:30 AM "So basically what you're saying is that no-one has seen anything suspicious, no-one has any ideas about who might be involved, nobody knows how the murders were committed, except that all the blood was removed from the victims, and all we have to go on is a file from the 1950's about a cult that may or may not have existed? Have I missed anything, Mulder?" Dana Scully folded her arms and waited, eyebrow raised, for her partner's reply. Mulder stared unrepentantly at the petite redhead and nodded. "Yep, that's about it. Of course, we have seen other cases like this. It could be something we've already dealt with." "You mean more Eves? That's possible of course, but why would anyone resurrect such a doomed experiment?" "Maybe to try and fix whatever went wrong in the first place, to try to clear the name of the other scientists, or worse. To use the Eves' psychosis as a weapon. Imagine it, Scully. An army made up of psychopathic killers, yet who still look totally innocent. Who would ever suspect a small child of mass murder? A controlled Eve could be one of the greatest assassins this world has known." Scully drew in a breath and was about to speak when the receptionist poked her head through the door of the waiting room. "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, the Sheriff will see you now." ______________________________________________ October 22nd, 1995 2:30 PM Mulder winced as the morgue assistant laid the young girl's body on the autopsy table. This was too close to his dreams, the dreams about Samantha, about Dana. About how he had lost one and almost lost the other. Don't think about that. Just don't think about it. Scully finished adjusting the lamp above the table, and bent down to draw back the plastic sheath and reveal the corpse. Just a little kid. She turned on a small tape recorder and began speaking into it, dictating the report she would type up later. She was so professional about this. It made Mulder's stomach flop over. "Subject is female, Caucasian, adolescent, approximately 13 years in age. Subject is about 5'2" tall, 103 pounds. Subject has shoulder length brown hair, no moles or other distinguishing facial features. External markings include bruises on each wrist, and two small marks on the...Mulder! Come take a look at this!" Scully stopped the recorder and turned as he crossed the room to join her. "What did you find?" Please let it be something conclusive. Let this finally be the answers I've been looking for. "Look at the side of her neck." Scully brushed the strands of hair away from the left side of the girl's neck and pointed with a gloved finger to two small marks positioned about an inch apart on her neck. "These marks are placed just above the carotid artery. I wouldn't be surprised if they penetrated it completely." "Yes, so? These are the same marks that have been on every body found so far." Mulder rocked back on his heels and waited for her reply. "Look closer Mulder. If you look at the skin _between_ the marks you'll see it." He bent forward and stared intently at the victim's neck as Scully repositioned the lamp. At first, he didn't know what she was talking about. Then he spotted it. Between the two holes, forming a semi-circular bridge between them, were the faint marks of four front teeth. ______________________________________________ October 22nd, 1995 8:24 PM She stood in the growing darkness, watching the two agents "discussing". The sounds of their argument floated across the mostly empty lot as they walked from the restaurant to their car. The tall one, what was his name? Mulder was trying to convince Scully that vampires existed, while Scully was trying very hard not to be convinced. So much like we were. So many parallels. But Meritus changed that. Meritus changed everything. She closed her eyes, remembering. "I offer the ultimate prize. Knowledge, power." Meritus had appeared, after following her for months, maybe longer. He had never told her, she had never dared to ask. He holds out his hand, promises her the world and beyond. Mesmerized , she accepts. And her world changes. Irrevocably. Fiery pain and burning ecstasy consume her, melding into one. But when it ends, he's gone. She's alone. She had survived. She had read enough pulp fiction to know what had happened, what she had become. Spent a month on the streets, sleeping in an old abandoned warehouse by day, feeding off of derelicts at night. This can't be what he meant. "I can give you everything you've ever dreamed of." This is no dream. This is a nightmare. She had watched Jacobs deteriorate, give up hope. Watched him leave the job he had loved, drink himself into oblivion. She stopped watching. She needed to tell him, tell him I'm not dead, but I can't let him see what I've become. Best to forget, break all bonds with my old life. He had come to her, soon after that. Explained that he had waited, waited to see if she was a survivor, if she had what was needed to exist in this world of perpetual darkness and glaring lights. Her lessons had begun that night. "The truth is out there, now just beyond your reach. I can give it to you." There was so much more than she had even dared to dream about. So many things to be learned, so much to be discovered. He had taught her much about who she had become. But not everything. He didn't teach me everything. And on the eve of her release from his tutelage, presented her to the community. Meritus had been her mentor, father, teacher and guide for over 10 years. He had vanished soon after, only to reappear here, now. Deluding another set of would-be-satanic worshippers. His little cults would get him nothing but trouble, get him killed sometime soon. He was being too obvious, brought in the FBI for a second time. What if that's what he meant to do? He brought me here, which one is he stalking now? The agents had stopped arguing, were getting in the car. Have to protect them, can't let Meritus destroy them like he destroyed us. He needs her like Jacobs needed me, like I needed him. Can't let it happen. What to do? Find Meritus. Stop him. Save them. ______________________________________________ March 16th 1954 8:42 PM They were gathered in the Sheriff's office. The two special agents, Sheriff Mason, Dr. Darien, and random police officers from the local precinct. Some of them sat, some stood, all grouped around a map of Greendale and the surrounding area. Jacobs picked up the black marker that was lying on the table, and began to mark the murder sites on the map. "The two murders here, and here, in the south, the ones in the north, east, and west. There has to be a pattern here, there almost inevitably is. And if we can find it, we're halfway to catching these guys." "It almost looks like a circle," one of the officers began. "More like a pentagon," another interrupted. "Cauthorn jerked up out of her comfortable slouch. "A pentagon? Maybe. Jacobs, connect the sites in order of occurrence." Jacobs gave her a strange look, but did as she requested. First the southwest, then the north, southeast, and west, with east being the latest killing. His eyes widened as he identified the formation. "That cocky son of a...it's no pentagon, it's a pentacle. Which means..." "Which means, the next and final murder will complete the pattern. Back at site one." Cauthorn completed Jacobs' sentence for him, and redirected her comments to the sheriff. "Sheriff Mason, we're going to need you to place your men on round-the-clock surveillance of the first site. And let the others know we need them to be on standby, ready to move in as soon as the party starts." Mason glanced at Jacobs, who nodded slightly. Only then did he walk out of the room, barking orders at his men, who followed in his wake. They didn't have to wait long. At about three that morning, the red-robed acolytes arrived and began to dispose of the body of a young boy. The police officers and agents moved in, and 12 members of the "Dark Coven" were arrested. Unmasked, they proved relatively easy to 'break', as Jacobs insisted on calling it. The acolytes spilled everything. Within a matter of hours, the agents knew the location of their headquarters, and the identity of their leader and self-proclaimed god. The man they knew only as Meritus. ______________________________________________ October 23rd 1995 10:46 PM Scully sat in one of the rickety old chairs in the Sheriff's office, and watched Mulder, who was perched on the edge of the ancient wooden desk. He was plotting out the locations of the murders, looking for his elusive patterns. She saw the almost feverish glint in his eyes, the one that she knew meant his brain was working triple time, and he would soon pull the answer out of thin air. Just more fuel for the 'Spooky' mystique. Finished, Mulder sat back on the desk and stared, unblinking, at the map. The pattern was there, teasing at the edges of his consciousness, staying just out of reach. "What do you think, Scully? Do you see anything?" His partner tilted her head to one side, regarded the map. Chewing her bottom lip, she thought for a moment. "It almost looks like they're aiming for a bulls-eye pattern..." Mulder glared at her, and she chuckled as she realized her unconscious pun. "What if we tried connecting them somehow? If it truly is a conscious pattern, and not just a matter of convenience, there's got to be a way for us to determine where the next one's going to be. Try connecting them in the order that they were committed." "Sounds good. Let's try it out." The pattern had been obvious, ridiculously so. The pentacle held an enormous significance for cults like this one was turning out to be. Mulder spent most of the trip back to the first site berating himself for missing something so clear. But the pieces should have come together by now. They hadn't. Something was still missing, something important, something vital. This wasn't as clear-cut as it appeared to be. Scully watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was clutching the steering wheel, as though if he squeezed it hard enough, it would divulge the secrets of the universe. She knew he was frustrated by this case. It had to hurt, seeing those kids. Always wondering if he had been wrong, if this was what had happened to Sam. It happened on every case where a child was involved. The car pulled over to the curb, and the agents looked around. The Sheriff had his men staking out the site, set at vantage points in every direction. Their part in this was the same. Wait until something happens. Until then, sit and vegetate. Mulder pulled out a package of sunflower seeds, and Scully took out the file she had been doing the report on when this whole mess started. Maybe she'd actually get a chance to get something done. It was after two in the morning when something broke the boredom. A black van drove up to the site, an old warehouse, and a group of people in those remarkably conspicuous red robes began to unload something from the trunk. The roundup was quick and efficient. All 12 members were arrested, and taken to the jail for questioning. It was pathetically easy to get the information they needed out of the "Dark Coven", as they termed themselves. They had joined the congregation, it turned out, because it seemed interesting, or because a friend did, or because of the leader. Now the leader was the interesting point. The thirteenth member, the only one who had no part, it seemed, in either the murders or the disposal of the bodies. The entire group was adamant about that. Funny thing though, no-one could remember how they killed the children, how they kidnapped them without a struggle, or even why they did it in the first place. A mystery for another day though. Now was the time to arrange the raid on the leader's HQ. ______________________________________________ October 24th 1995 4:24 PM She walked quickly up the steps of Meritus' latest Haven. He detested the unnecessary usage of their powers, and it would be easier not to antagonize him right off. Leanne Cauthorn, childe of Meritus Vesuvius, stepped into the entranceway of her "father"'s home. Her jaw dropped in astonishment as she took in the surroundings. What had once been an underground air-raid shelter was now what appeared to be a leftover set from "Prince of Thieves". From the upside-down cross on the wall, to the pentacles and occult-looking symbols etched into the floor, to the ancient tomes describing (presumably) awful things to do to people, the small room looked exactly like a Hollywood producer's image of a satanic cult's base of operations. And in the center of all of this madness, her progenitor, Meritus. Dressed in what appeared to be an old Halloween costume of some sort, holding a black and silver staff, and generally trying to look very impressive. And of course, to a mortal, he probably would. To one of his own, he looked utterly foolish. "Good even, 'father'. I have news. Your mortal followers will not be rejoining you tonight, or ever." The formality grated on her nerves, but Meritus had always insisted on this. She supposed it reminded him of days long gone. "Is that all? I already know of the FBI raid. Indeed, I planned it thus. You horribly underestimate me, childe." "Leave them be. You have no need of them. Let them live their lives in peace, undisturbed by you." "Let them be? Why should you be concerned with their pointless little lives?" "Do not destroy them, 'father'. Is your brood of progeny not extensive enough already? Do we disappoint you so much that you needs must hunt again? Or is your loneliness so total that you must always have a childe by your side. Have you not listened to your own lessons. "Let go your mortal bonds. Release yourself from your former life. They are of no consequence to us." Do you remember, 'father'? Do you?" "Do not presume to lecture me, childe. I am far older than even you can imagine." "You threaten me? You are a fool, Meritus. And as such you are of no consequence. You thought you controlled me, but you did not, and you do not. The prey you hunt tonight is far more dangerous than you can conceive. Leave this place, Meritus. Build yourself a new Haven. If you remain in this one, you will find yourself staked ere nightfall. And follow them no more, for they are under my protection. If you touch either one, all kin and blood bonds are nulled. This I swear." She stalked out of the bunker, seething with anger. He was an idiot. He was nigh omnipotent, but he was an idiot. ______________________________________________ October 24th 1995 8:56 AM The raid was a disaster. Coincidences multiplied, Murphy was in full swing, and disaster was perpetually threatening. Everything that could go wrong, did, including some things that no- one thought were possible. Guns misfired, cars crashed, officers fell asleep suddenly, people tripped over things that weren't there. Clumsiness was the order of the day, and to top it all off, the Sheriff had disappeared somewhere. The group finally made it to the hidden bunker that the coven members had described. The galvanized steel door was locked tight. After shooting about four rounds into the lock, the door swung open, incredibly quickly, taking out an officer in the process. The entire mission was beginning to feel, Scully remarked, like a French farce. They pounded into the bunker to find...absolutely nothing. A completely empty room. Returning to the prison to question the coven, they found them all dead, with their throats rather messily removed. And at the motel, instructions to report back to Washington immediately. "The fates hate us, Scully. It's the only possible explanation." _____________________________________________ October 25th, 1995 Due to the lack of any evidence, and the deaths of practically everyone involved, the identity of the cult leader, the man known as Meritus, remains a mystery.