"That's the original Michael Parkes oil." Dr. Abaddon appeared without warning beside her, holding a tray of steaming tea. "I thought we'd sit by the fire?" He led her over to the living room and offered her a seat. "There's no reason to be nervous."
"I'm not nervous," Katherine said entirely too quickly.
He gave her a reassuring smile. "Actually, it is my business to know when people are nervous." "I beg your pardon?"
"I'm a practicing psychiatrist, Ms. Solomon. That is my profession. I've been seeing your brother for almost a year now. I'm his therapist."
Katherine could only stare. My brother is in therapy?
"Patients often choose to keep their therapy to themselves," the man said. "I made a mistake by calling you, although in my defense, your brother did mislead me."
"I . . . I had no idea."
"I apologize if I made you nervous," he said, sounding embarrassed. "I noticed you studying my face when we met, and yes, I do wear makeup." He touched his own cheek, looking self- conscious. "I have a dermatological condition, which I prefer to hide. My wife usually puts the makeup on for me, but when she's not here, I have to rely on my own heavy touch."
Katherine nodded, too embarrassed to speak.
"And this lovely hair . . ." He touched his lush blond mane. "A wig. My skin condition affected my scalp follicles as well, and all my hair jumped ship." He shrugged. "I'm afraid my one sin is vanity."
"Apparently mine is rudeness," Katherine said.
"Not at all." Dr. Abaddon's smile was disarming. "Shall we start over? Perhaps with some tea?"
They sat in front of the fire and Abaddon poured tea. "Your brother got me in the habit of serving tea during our sessions. He said the Solomons are tea drinkers."
"Family tradition," Katherine said. "Black, please."
They sipped their tea and made small talk for a few minutes, but Katherine was eager for information about her brother. "Why was my brother coming to you?" she asked. And why didn't he tell me? Admittedly, Peter had endured more than his fair share of tragedy in his life--losing his father at a young age, and then, within a span of five years, burying his only son and then his mother. Even so, Peter had always found a way to cope.
Dr. Abaddon took a sip of tea. "Your brother came to me because he trusts me. We have a bond beyond that of normal patient and doctor." He motioned to a framed document near the fireplace. It looked like a diploma, until Katherine spied the double-headed phoenix.
"You're a Mason?" The highest degree, no less.
"Peter and I are brothers of sorts." "You must have done something important to be invited into the thirty-third degree."
"Not really," he said. "I have family money, and I give a lot of money to Masonic charities."
Katherine now realized why her brother trusted this young doctor. A Mason with family money, interested in philanthropy and ancient mythology?
Dr. Abaddon had more in common with her brother than she had initially imagined.
"When I asked why my brother came to you," she said, "I didn't mean why did he choose you. I meant, why is he seeking the services of a psychiatrist?"
Dr. Abaddon smiled. "Yes, I know. I was trying to sidestep the question politely. It's really not something I should be discussing." He paused. "Although I must say I'm puzzled that your brother would keep our discussions from you, considering that they relate so directly to your research."
"My research?" Katherine said, taken totally off guard. My brother talks about my research?
"Recently, your brother came to me looking for a professional opinion about the psychological impact of the breakthroughs you are making in your lab."
Katherine almost choked on the tea. "Really? I'm . . . surprised," she managed. What is Peter thinking? He told his shrink about my work?! Their security protocol involved not discussing with anyone what Katherine was working on. Moreover, the confidentiality had been her brother's idea.
"Certainly you are aware, Ms. Solomon, that your brother is deeply concerned about what will happen when your research goes public. He sees the potential for a significant philosophical shift in the world . . . and he came here to discuss the possible ramifications . . . from a psychological perspective."
"I see," Katherine said, her teacup now shaking slightly.
"The questions we discuss are challenging ones: What happens to the human condition if the great mysteries of life are finally revealed? What happens when those beliefs that we accept on faith . . . are suddenly categorically proven as fact? Or disproved as myth? One could argue that there exist certain questions that are best left unanswered."
Katherine could not believe what she was hearing, and yet she kept her emotions in check. "I hope you don't mind, Dr. Abaddon, but I'd prefer not to discuss the details of my work. I have no immediate plans to make anything public. For the time being, my discoveries will remain safely locked in my lab."
"Interesting." Abaddon leaned back in his chair, lost in thought for a moment. "In any event, I asked your brother to come back today because yesterday he suffered a bit of a break. When that happens, I like to have clients--"
"Break?" Katherine's heart was pounding. "As in breakdown?" She couldn't imagine her brother breaking down over anything.
Abaddon reached out kindly. "Please, I can see I've upset you. I'm sorry. Considering these awkward circumstances, I can understand how you might feel entitled to answers."
"Whether I'm entitled or not," Katherine said, "my brother is all I have left of my family. Nobody knows him better than I do, so if you tell me what the hell happened, maybe I can help you. We all want the same thing--what's best for Peter."
Dr. Abaddon fell silent for several long moments and then began slowly nodding as if Katherine might have a point. Finally, he spoke. "For the record, Ms. Solomon, if I decide to share this information with you, I would do so only because I think your insights might help me assist your brother."
"Of course."
Abaddon leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. "Ms. Solomon, as long as I've been seeing your brother, I've sensed in him a deep struggle with feelings of guilt. I've never pressed him on it because that's not why he comes to me. And yet yesterday, for a number of reasons, I finally asked him about it." Abaddon locked eyes with her. "Your brother opened up, rather dramatically and unexpectedly. He told me things I had not expected to hear . . . including everything that happened the night your mother died."
Christmas Eve--almost exactly ten years ago. She died in my arms.
"He told me your mother was murdered during a robbery attempt at your home? A man broke in looking for something he believed your brother was hiding?"
"That's correct."
Abaddon's eyes were appraising her. "Your brother said he shot the man dead?"
"Yes."
Abaddon stroked his chin. "Do you recall what the intruder was looking for when he broke into your home?"
Katherine had tried in vain for ten years to block out the memory. "Yes, his demand was very specific. Unfortunately, none of us knew what he was talking about. His demand never made sense to any of us."
"Well, it made sense to your brother." "What?" Katherine sat up.