Aftermath and Consultation
Tenterden, Late-November 2007
It took a while for the chaos in the Entrance Hall to die down. Edward and his pet general eventually returned to Amber, with my cousin muttering about it probably not being wise for so many of us to be out of town at once, which made perfect sense. Dave and Geran seemed set to stay around for a bit, so Carmichael was sorting out rooms for them. And Wolf had disappeared upstairs with his son. But he was the one I was worried about. I hadn't seen him looking so defeated for a long time, even after what had happened in Shadow a couple of weeks before, and I didn't like it.
I headed up the stairs to look for him, guessing he would have installed Armand in the guest room where Thorsten had stayed with us, far too short a time ago. There was no answer to my knock, but I walked in anyway, and sure enough, there they were. Wolf's face was still a mask of blood from where the Lynx witch had tried to bite his ear off, and he looked exhausted. Armand, in the meantime, was huddled under the duvet and from where I was standing, I could see he was still out cold.
"Go away, Ian," he croaked as he saw me.
"You need to rest too."
"Not while he's like this."
"Yes..." I said, firmly, "...you do. You just led us on a pretty hairy Hellride, on top of being wounded and beaten yourself. You're exhausted. You're hurting. And you aren't thinking straight. You aren't going to help him like this."
"I don't want to let him out of my sight."
"He's safe here. You know that. I'll make sure of it. But you have to sleep."
"Why would he be safe with you? This is all your bloody fault."
"I couldn't have known this would happen, Wolf, I really couldn't. You know I only suggested he walk the Pattern because I thought it would help him defend himself."
"And yet here we are," he answered, coldly, and I saw something approaching hatred in his eyes as he looked up at me. It disturbed the Hell out of me, but just for once I wasn't planning to budge.
He tried to stare me down and force me to back off, but I wasn't having it. I crossed to him, put my hands around his upper arms and pulled him to his feet. Almost meekly, in the end, he followed me out and I took him back to his own room. I made him strip, stood him in the shower for a while, and then wrapped him in a robe and sat him down on the bed to work on the damage to his ear. I'd had a first go back in the cave, but I wanted to make sure it wasn't going to scar, or worse still, become permanently part of his self-view, the way the knife wounds on his arms and abdomen had.
By the time I was finished, the fight had gone out of him, and he was pretty much catatonic. I removed the robe, put him into his bed, and then laid the heaviest sleep spell I could manage on him and left him to rest. As I headed back to my grandson's room, I wasn't at all sure whether it was father or son I was most worried about.
I debated whether to call Michel, but as always, I couldn't figure out how to broach the subject that her step-father had been badly hurt. Again. Because of me. Again. And I didn't even know if she knew about Armand. Yes, I knew I'd have to tell her eventually, or she'd never forgive me. But for Wolf's sake, I wanted to be careful while Dave and Geran were around. I doubted he would appreciate me revealing her existence to other members of the Family without his permission, so I decided to wait until he could let me know his views on the matter. Unfortunately, right now, I think he'd decided we were all the spawn of the Devil, even those of us who had fought beside him.
I got back to my grandson's room, and wearing my MD's hat, gave him a thorough check-up. The healing Geran and I had done on him had made a big difference. Physically, his life was no longer in danger, which certainly hadn't been the case when we'd reached him. But blood loss and organ regeneration take time, even for us. And in the meantime, his blood pressure was low, he was pale, in shock, and he wasn't doing very well on the Glasgow Coma Scale.
Still, I was beginning to get used to people ending up arriving at Wittersham House in a bad way, and since I had become formally licenced to do so, I had set up a small medical supplies stores area in one of the quieter corners of the house. I fetched IVs, blood bags, monitors etc, and set up what he needed. God knows what mental state he'd be in when he woke up, though.
Over the years, I'd yearned to get to know my grandson better but not under these circumstances. When he'd been in England, I'd spent time with him in lectures and tutor groups, and he'd occasionally come down to Kent at the weekends. But since his return to Germany, Wolf had always kept him at something of arm's length. In the wake of this complete balls up, I was determined that that would change.
I warded his room, so that only Wolf and I could get in, and then headed downstairs. It was late, and I was in sore need of a drink. I sank into one of the comfortable old armchairs in the library, in the semi-darkness of a single reading lamp. I was nursing a large brandy, with the bottle on the table beside me, enjoying the solitude, when I heard the door open, to be followed by a polite "ahem".
"Sir," came Carmichael's voice, as he came in, "I hope you'll forgive the intrusion, but I wanted to ask if Master Wolf and his son are going to be alright."
"Grab a glass," I answered, then gestured for him to join me and sit, and rather to his surprise, poured him a drink and passed it to him. Yes, it was a breach of our normal protocol, but in a way he was closer family to me than most of the Amberites. The Carmichaels have served the Cushings since the late-1880s, and he was the third butler of that name, even in my lifetime. He had taken over from his father ('Young' Carmichael) in 1989, at the then comparatively youthful age of 35, although he'd been serving in a less lofty capacity as far back as the late-1970s. He probably knew more of our secrets than my Amber kin, as well, and I trusted him implicitly to keep them.
Quite when he'd met my father and sat for a Trump portrait I didn't know - the card in question had turned up in the post shortly after he was elevated to butler - but I couldn't help but be grateful that somehow, Dad had found the time in his busy schedule to arrange it. It had certainly saved Wolf's life a couple of weeks ago, and arguably Thorsten's and now Armand's, as well.
Gods, I realised. I'd eventually have to come clean to Bleys about this fuck-up, as well. After all, he'd acknowledged Wolf as my heir, which put the troubled man upstairs far too close to the Amber Throne to keep it quiet.
"I don't know," I said, quietly, finally answering Carmichael's question, "I was thinking of seeing if Adam was free to come down from Scotland for a few days. He may be able to help them. Psychiatry just isn't my forte, and right now I'm not sure which of them is in a worse state."
"I can call Humphrey in the morning, if you wish."
"Thank you. I'd appreciate it."
"And Masters David and Geran? Are they going to be staying long?"
"I don't know. Possibly. They helped me find Wolf and Armand, and they're worried about them."
"I'll make sure that they're made comfortable while they're here. They are your...cousins, yes?"
"And Geran is Wolf's great uncle on his mother's side. Even though he looks the same age as Armand. The extended family isn't really that logical, as you've no doubt figured out by now."
"I do my best to keep up. And what about Master Wolf's cat?"
"I hadn't even thought about her," I admitted. In truth, she hadn't even registered in my considerations.
"I'll make arrangements for her to be brought here. He might find her presence comforting."
"What would I do without you, Carmichael?"
"I presume that is a hypothetical question, sir," he answered, and I thought I saw a trace of a smile, before he took a sip from his brandy glass to cover it.
"We must be a sore trial to you at times. Remind me to give you a pay rise."
"Life is never dull in the Hawke household," he said, and this time I definitely saw a smile, "but be assured, I feel more than suitably remunerated, as long as you maintain my unlimited dry cleaning allowance."
I looked at him in surprise. Had he actually made a joke? Surely not? And then he continued without missing a beat.
"You need not be concerned that I will be withdrawing my services. My family have served yours for a long time, and I have no intention of being the last."
"Thank you...James. for everything you do for us."
"You're welcome, sir," he answered, and we lapsed into a companionable silence, quietly drinking our brandies.
* * * * * *
The next couple of days were extremely difficult, and I must admit, the presence of Dave and Geran was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, all I really wanted was privacy. But on the other, I was touched by the fact that not only had they helped me find Wolf and Armand, without reservations, but they were also concerned enough to stay on and see if they were alright. Dave, in particular, seemed to go out of his way to try to connect with Wolf, albeit with mixed success.
The other one who got in contact and offered his concerns and good wishes, was Dieter. That one did surprise me. However, by the sound of it - perhaps even as a result of what happened to his kin - he had had about as much of a sense of humour failure as I had with regard to the Lynx Cult, and had declared war on them in his territories. I offered him my support, with the proviso that it stopped short of ending in sacrifice, which he seemed to accept. I suspect he would have preferred for me to transfer both Wolf and Armand into his care on Germania, though. However, in the end he let them stay in my charge.
Once Wolf woke up, he became almost obsessive - or perhaps possessive - about watching over Armand, to the extent of becoming borderline insomniac. Initially, apart from meals, trips to the library to collect books to read while he waited, and the occasional sparring session with Dave, the only times I saw him was when I was up in Armand's room, checking on my grandson's progress. No doubt, if I'd let him, he would have taken the whole burden of caring his son on himself. But I didn't. He needed to rest and heal as well, possibly even more than Armand did. However, it took a while before I managed to get through to him on that subject, and he trusted me enough to leave us alone.
Which of course was the root of the problem. Trust. Right now, he didn't trust anyone, including me. He was cold, detached, and above all angry, and in honesty, I couldn't blame him. Despite already expressing reservations about the Family, he'd taken his son to the Pattern on my advice, to try to help him defend against the potential threat from Random and Caine. And Armand had ended up in a worse state than either of us had imagined possible (which given our experiences over the years was quite a lot) as a direct result. Moreover, in the process of failing to protect his son, Wolf himself had taken a beating which, so close on the heels of his last experience in Shadow, had left him wary of ever wanting to leave Tenterden.
Armand, in the meantime, eventually came around, and during the day was actually reasonably coherent, but that was a mixed blessing as well. As he returned to a more normal sleep cycle, rather than one induced by drugs, the nightmares started. Wolf and I took turns to sit with him through the night, to try to comfort him when he woke screaming, and hold him while he wept in pain and frustration. He was so far from the bright, confident young student who had attended my War Studies class, four years before, that it was heart breaking.
That was partly why I did my best to persuade Dieter to let Armand stay in England for a while once they both recovered...if they both recovered. Right then, Wolf needed his son, as much as his son needed him, and to be honest, it was going to be a while until Armand was ready to return to Active Duty, if ever. I may not be a psychiatrist, but I can recognise post-traumatic stress disorder when I see it, and the signs were obvious in both of them.
I can't tell you how pleased I was when Adam's hire car pulled up outside the house.
I'd first met him through Wolf, in the mid-eighties, when my son had been living and working in Edinburgh. I think he'd come across Adam when he was testifying for the prosecution in a murder case Wolf had been the arresting officer for, and one Christmas when I went to stay with him and Susanne, he introduced us. The first time I met him, I recognised in him a fellow practitioner and Man in Black, albeit from a different tradition to mine, and from there we had struck up a solid friendship. Outside of the Group, he was one of the few people I could talk to about pretty much anything, although in the last few years, I'd not been particularly forthcoming about the full details of the Amber side of my life.
"What's happened, Ian?" he said, as he came in and I met him in the hall. Carmichael took his bags and disappeared off upstairs with them, and I took Adam through to my office.
"It's a long story," I answered, pouring us both a glass of Scotch, "but the upshot is that I have two seriously traumatised patients, and I don't know where to start with helping either of them."
"I assume Wolf is one of them," he commented, "I know you've been worried about him for a couple of months. Since... whatever it is you won't tell me about... Who's the other?"
"He has a son, Armand."
"Ah. He's mentioned him occasionally. He's in the German Army, I believe?"
"Unfortunately...but that's another story, of course."
"And he's the other patient? How come he's here in England, rather than being cared for at home. Whatever their other flaws, the GGR usually has a good support network for their soldiers. Perhaps because of what they expect them to do."
"This wasn't anything to do with his duties over there. It's related to some personal stuff we've been going through."
"To do with your mythical family?"
"Not so mythical. Two of them are currently staying here to help out. You'll meet them while you're here."
"I think perhaps you'd better start at the beginning."
"If you think it's necessary."
"I do. And Ian..."
"Yes."
"I think full disclosure is in order. If the situation is as bad as you're implying, I can't help them, or you, without that."
"You're probably right," I admitted, much as I didn't like it, and started from the point when Marcus had first taken me to Amber.
I talked for the best part of an hour and a half, with Adam occasionally interrupting me for clarifications, although for the most part he was sitting there taking mental notes. And I pretty much told him everything, warts and all, including what had happened on Germania, and the fact that, three days before, I'd killed a defenceless prisoner in cold blood. By the time I finished, he was looking thoughtful, but at least he didn't seem to have been completely overwhelmed.
"I've come across this Lynx Cult before," he commented, as I wound down, and that probably took me by surprise more than anything else he could have said at that point.
"When?" I asked, incredulous.
"About ten years ago...no maybe nearer to fifteen. We had problems with them in Scotland. I ended up on the sharp end of their ministrations, but not, it would seem, to the extent that your grandson has."
"You never said."
"I thought they were finished. But apparently I was wrong. Maybe they were only finished here."
He fell quiet for a few moments, his expression pensive, before continuing.
"If anyone other than you had told me all this. Multiple worlds. An immortal family - even if I've known for a long time that you should be well past your sell-by date. The fact that you think you're the Prince of Wales. Black magic and sudden death as day-to-day occurrences. I would probably have recommended temporary hospitalisation and a great deal of psychiatric care."
"So why aren't you? At least, I assume you aren't?"
"Things you've said over the years. Comments you've dropped without intending to. And I talked to Wolf a lot when he was living in Edinburgh. Don't get me wrong. The idea that you consider that you ‘own' this world isn't exactly comforting; and neither is the fact that you've just admitted to me that you have both committed murder and participated in a Black Ritual in the recent past. But underneath it all, it makes a strange kind of sense: a lot of things I've wondered about over the years have started falling into place."
"I didn't ask you to come here to psychoanalyse me," I pointed out.
"No. But I needed the context before I could help either Wolf or Armand."
"So what do you think?"
"I agree with your initial diagnosis. They both sound to be showing classic symptoms of PTSD. And I completely agree with your decision to recuse yourself from their treatment. At least on the psychiatric side. On the medical side...that's more of a grey area, but your participation doesn't seem to be affecting their care at this point, and if it helps you, then I have no intention of forbidding it. But I have to ask. Why did you come to me, rather than one of the very gifted psychiatrists who work in London?"
"I wanted someone I trusted. And I know that you will be willing and able to help them from both a mundane and esoteric point of view. I think they're both going to need that."
"How do you intend to explain my presence to your cousins?"
"I'll tell them exactly why you're here. That Wolf and Armand need help and counselling, and that I asked you to come."
"Should I be afraid of them?"
Now that was an interesting question. However, I suppose I had just spent more than an hour telling him about the House of Amber, and it's particularly terminal breed of family politics, and Adam isn't a fool.
"I don't believe so. One, you are under my protection here, and that means something in a Family context. And two, both of them fought by my side to help bring Wolf and Armand home."
"Alright then. Perhaps we'd better get started."
"Who do you want to see first?"
"By the sound of it, they're pretty much inseparable just now. Why don't you just walk me up to see them, and I'll take it from there."
"Agreed," I answered, and escorted him up to Armand's room.
As expected, Wolf was sitting in the chair under the window, reading, as he had been for most of the last three days, although whether he was actually taking in anything was another matter. Armand looked to be dozing, which was probably for the best. He'd had a bad night, and I'd spent most of it up with him, having forced my son to get some sleep.
Wolf looked up as we walked in, and it obviously took him a moment or two to register who was with me. I'd told him Adam was coming down for a few days, but I hadn't been sure it had sunk in.
"Perhaps you should leave us to it, Ian," Adam said gently, as he took one look at his prospective patients, and with a nod I headed back out of the door, to see what Geran and Dave were up to.
* * * * * *
Adam sought me out after dinner that evening. Wolf had come down for a while, and had even talked a bit with our guests, but he'd headed back upstairs immediately afterwards, taking a small plate of chicken and rice for Armand. At least the fact that my grandson was hungry was a good sign.
"What do you think?" I asked, as we sat opposite each other in the library, and shared another glass of whisky.
"You know as well as I do that I can't go into specifics."
"Patient-doctor confidentiality."
"However, given that you're their next of kin, a fellow medical professional, and a dedicated - if perhaps a little tarnished - Servant of the Light, I am willing to discuss things with you in general terms."
"I appreciate that," I answered, meaning it on both the medical level, and the fact that he still considered me to be on the right side of the battle we waged together.
"Firstly, your instinct was right. They both need me, in different ways, and I'm more than willing to try to help them. However, my initial assessment is mixed."
"This is a good news, bad news thing, isn't it?"
"I'm afraid it is."
"Then start with the good news. I could do with some of that right now."
He paused, took a sip from his whisky glass and put it on the table beside him, then continued.
"Armand is still very groggy, but he's blanked a lot of what happened to him out of his conscious mind. That's why he's getting the nightmares. If you're willing to let me use my...less commonplace...methods with him, I'm certain that I will be able to help him integrate his experiences and fade the immediacy of them, which should help him considerably. My expectation is that we should see progress relatively quickly. Possibly even by Christmas."
"That's a lot more hopeful than I'd feared," I admitted.
"It helps that he's young, and therefore more resilient and adaptable, both physically and mentally. What happened to him was terrible - no-one should have had to go through what he has - but I'm willing to go out on a limb far enough to say that with time, he should manage to adjust sufficiently to resume his life pretty much where he left off."
"At least that's something."
He paused before continuing, but somehow I already knew in my gut what he was going to say next.
"Wolf is more of an problem."
His tone was gentle - very much the doctor breaking bad news - but that didn't make what he had to say any easier for me to hear.
"I had a feeling he might be."
"His problems are far more deep seated."
"I suppose I knew that, even if I didn't want to admit it, either to myself or to him. Although in a way I'm surprised that he's never sought a consultation from you before. You said you'd talked a lot when he was living in Edinburgh."
"Talked, yes. We were friends and colleagues, both professionally and esoterically. He even Hunted with us - against, amongst others, the Lynx Cult."
"He neglected to mention that at any point during our search for Armand."
"Which is an interesting fact in itself. But no, he was never my patient. That's a similarly grey area to you treating him as his doctor. But in this instance, despite our friendship complicating matters, I think I may be the only person who can help him."
We both sipped from our glasses, before he looked at me again.
"You don't seem in the least bit surprised at what I've just said."
"He's had...issues...for as long as I've known him, and his ability to cope with things has been variable over the years. I've always assumed they originated with the circumstances of his coming to England."
"Bucharest...Eglizi...and his time in prison."
"Yes."
"Hmm. My instinct is that it goes deeper than that. You said his ability to cope has been variable. Are you willing to tell me what you mean?"
I thought of the times I'd found him in a drunken stupor, and remembered again Berlin and the Wewelsburg.
"He's always had a self-destructive streak," I admitted, "and while I've tried to help him, sometimes it just doesn't work."
"Did you never advised him to get help?"
"Yes...but that doesn't mean he ever listened to me. Wolf can be stubborn, and he's a very private person. Sometimes he'll open up to me, or one of the Group, but in general, he doesn't seek help lightly."
"How much do you know about his childhood?"
"I know he hated his step-father, and that he always blamed him for murdering his mother."
"Did he?...murder her?"
"Apparently he admitted it to Wolf shortly before he died."
"Do you think he was abused as a child?"
"Not in the way you're implying. But Dietrich von Ansbach was a violent man with a nasty temper - I know that from first-hand experience - and I get the impression that he was a firm believer in physically disciplining his children."
"You met him?"
"Once. Years ago, before Wolf was born. He and a pair of SA goons beat the crap out of me in a back alley in Berlin, when he discovered that I'd had an affair with his wife...and no, I hadn't realised she was married."
"Interesting defensive reaction, my friend."
"It's true," I answered, with a shrug, "so the fact that he would murder his wife really wasn't that much of a leap for me."
"Understood. So...this is what I propose. I can arrange to stay down here for ten days, or maybe a fortnight. That should certainly be long enough to deal with their initial care. And if all goes well, it may be that by then I will have made enough progress with Armand that he can stay down here with you. But I'd like to take Wolf back to Edinburgh with me."
"Why?"
"You may not want to hear this, but he needs to get away from here. For whatever reason, from what little he said, you are currently the focus of his anger, and that isn't going to go away in the short term. However, he always seemed happy in Scotland, and I got the impression being there helped him all those years ago. So I'd like to take him under my care."
"What's that going to entail?"
"If I can treat him informally, at home, I will. That would certainly be my preference. But that might end up being difficult with my own family. Two rambunctious nearly-teens don't make for the quietest of surroundings. So I may end up having to formally admit him to my practice."
"I'm not sure Wolf is going to be happy leaving Armand down here with me if he's in Scotland, especially if he's as angry with me as you're implying."
"Which is also part of the problem. At the moment, he is being driven by his primal instincts to protect his cub. His word, not mine, by the way, which is also interesting. However, in my view, that cycle needs to be broken before he can start to heal himself, and splitting them up might be the only way to achieve that."
"There's no way that's going to happen any time soon."
"No. Which is why I'm going to stay down here for a bit. However, my feeling is that once he sees his son making progress, he'll start thinking more rationally again, and he will be more willing to let me help him."
I sat back and considered what he'd said for a few minutes. It certainly made sense, and when it came down to it, the reason Adam was here, was because I had confidence in both his abilities and his judgement. And I knew that I would feel less worried about either of them, even if they weren't under my nose, if they were with someone I knew and trusted.
"As long as they're in agreement, then I am," I said, finally.
"And if they aren't?"
"Then that's a different conversation."
"Understood."
He lapsed into silence, then finished his drink before standing.
"Now, on the theory that I was up with the birds this morning to catch my flight, I'm going to turn in, if that's alright with you."
"You know, there's a way I can help you avoid that," I commented, "being up with the birds, I mean."
"Short of moving Stansted a little closer to Wittersham House, I'm not sure how."
"I've worked out a method of setting up permanent ‘transfer stones', which allow anyone with the key phrase to use them to get to any other stone. If you were willing to let me install one at your end, then moving from here to Edinburgh would be as simple as a step."
"Interesting idea. It would certainly let your group and mine keep in better touch, which might be important if the Lynx Cult is active again. However, I assume your motive in suggesting it is so that you could visit Wolf while he's staying with me?"
"Part of it, certainly."
"I'll think on it. Before I agree, though, I want to be sure that doing something like that wouldn't make things harder for him, once we head back to Scotland. How long will it take to set up?"
"A few hours...so no hurry. All I ask is that you consider it."
"I will. On which note...I will love you and leave you, and see you in the morning"
"I'm not going to be far behind you. After sitting with Armand last night, I'm pretty beat myself."
"Good night, Ian."
"And you."
And with that, he headed for the door, but before he left the room, he turned back towards me.
"Oh...and my stubborn friend...remember, I'm here if you want to talk as well."
"I know."
"Good. Then we understand each other," he answered, and headed upstairs.