The Holy Death

Chapter 43

Elizabeth was completely serious when she said that she was taking Scott into custody. Scott did not argue or protest, which Elizabeth appreciated. It had been a long flight back from Mexico City, and neither Scott nor she were up for a struggle. Besides, for some reason, Scott felt confident. He felt like he'd done the right thing, and that would be enough to see him through any sentence father might hand down. Dawn, Grace, Jeremiah and even Doug offered to accompany Scott to the House, to give him moral support and act as character witnesses if need be; Scott declined, thinking that it wouldn't take long, and he'd be back to them in no time at all.

Of course, on the ride from Portland International Airport to the House, Scott began to reconsider. This was, after all, Father he would have to face again. Father, who once almost had him killed. Father, who constantly reminded Scott of 'Scott Evil' and his assistance of Jack's late hostile takeover of the House. Father, who insisted that Scott 'owed him'. What Scott owed him, though, was still kind of foggy in Scott's mind, and Father never cared to elaborate. So, Scott began to feel a bit nervous. What if Father wasn't exactly in a good mood today? Then again, when was Father ever in a good mood? What if Father was going to exact vengeance for Scott's part in Jack's escape from the living death? What if Father was going to have him killed?

None of those thoughts were comforting, but his nervousness was almost replaced by other feelings – Scott had done the right thing. He knew he had. He was assured of it. Okay, so an insanely murderous vampire was now on the loose, but that wasn't part of Scott's plan. It was an accident. Yeah. An accident. Surely Father would see that. Yeah.

Scott tried to puff himself up as he and Elizabeth walked up to the portico of the House. The doors opened – still no creepy groan, as Johnny, the doorman, saw that the doors were regularly maintained. Scott even smiled at the annoying little doorman.

"Hey, Johnny! How you doing?" Scott asked.

"Oh, how am I... uhg... dear god! When was the last time you took a shower?"

"Hey, I... it's been a few days."

"I can tell! But couldn't you at least have used some deodorant, or aftershave, or --"

"Not now, Johnny," Elizabeth snapped. Johnny took the message and resumed indulging in a latte, laced, of course, with blood.

Elizabeth and Scott entered the meeting room and took position at the foot of the table. The door at the other side of the room swung open and Father walked in, followed by Phaedra. Father was not smiling, but then, he never smiled. One could never tell what hid behind that stony visage.

"Scott Campbell!" Father growled.

"That's me," Scott said.

"You are being detained for your part in Jack's escape."

"I know, but let me be honest: I didn't just have a 'part'. That was me. All me."

"Understood. You seem proud of it."

"Proud? You think I'm happy that Jack is loose, running around in the world doing God knows what to whom?"

"Well? Are you?"

"Seriously? Of course I'm not! Look. Of all the people who are really pissed off at Jack, and there are a lot of them, I'm number one on the list. Yeah, that's right!"

"You seem to forget the events of last year, Mr. Campbell."

"I what? I seem to forget? Seriously? With you constantly reminding me, every single chance you get, of what happened? Of what the evil version of me – not me, I'll remind you – did to you? No, I don't forget them. Believe me, I don't forget them, and if for some reason I did, you'd make sure to remind me."