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Chapter Nine
Cassandra entered the elevator and pulled down the sliding gate. She was nervous, unsettled, both dreading what was to come and itching to get it over with. Such conflicting feelings were becoming the norm for her, and she didn ’t appreciate it.
As the elevator took its time traveling downward, unphased by human impatience or anxiety, she reached under her coat to draw sure comfort from the cold certainty of steel in her hand. This time, however, it only served to heighten the unrest, and she reluctantly pulled her hand away.
At long last, the elevator reached the bottom and she hurried out as though afraid she might have missed something. In fact, the dojo was deserted save for Duncan, methodically doing sword kata. She paused to watch him for a moment, admiring not just his physical beauty but his focus and sense of purpose.
His dark hair was loose and danced around wildly with his movements. Shirtless, his muscles were clearly defined and could be seen hard at work as he executed each segment of the forms with long-mastered precision. Judging by the gleaming sweat, he had been at this for a good while already this morning.
It occurred to Cassandra that she was witnessing Duncan ’s elemental being now. He had been bred a warrior centuries before, and though he had been influenced over time by mentors and experience to embrace a preference for peace, at his core he still longed for the simplicity of determining where Justice resides in a conflict and fighting for it with every last ounce of his strength and passion.
Perhaps, she thought, that was the true source of the brooding that had so much become the Scot ’s hallmark; not the balancing act between his code of honor and the non-ideal realities of life, but the conflict between his intellectual desire for a non-violent life and the fundamental ingrained need for the physical conquest of evil.
He looked in her direction, briefly, not halting his exercise. “Morning. ”
“Good morning, ” she answered.
“Sleep well? ”
“No. ”
He nodded, still continuing his workout. She walked toward a bench but found herself too antsy to sit down. She knelt to pick up the bloodied towel, holding it up toward him, her face a question mark.
“Cut myself, ” he said shortly.
“With your sword? ”
“No, with my nail file. ”
She ignored the sarcasm, lost in concern. Duncan losing control of his sword while practicing forms was not something to take lightly. He must be as unsettled as she.
“Maybe you should take a break, ” she suggested. She wanted him to stop anyway.
“I ’m fine. A minor cut, already gone. ”
Irritated by his dismissive tone, Cassandra said, “It won ’t help, you know. All this practicing. ”
“Won ’t help what? ”
“It won ’t change the facts. ”
Now Duncan did stop, wiping sweat-soaked hair from his forehead, his expression challenging. “And what facts are those, Cassandra? ”
“That you have chosen the wrong man as a friend. That you have agreed to help him with a plan you haven ’t even heard yet. That you are risking your life on the word of a liar who always has a hidden agenda and whose only priority is surviving. ”
“You forgot one fact: I gave him my word. ”
She snorted. “Oh, yes, your celebrated honor. It ’s what makes you the perfect victim for someone who lives by a strict code of self-interest. ”
“I ’m nobody ’s victim. ” His voice was calm, but the anger was visible in his face. “And I would prefer dying by my own code to living in the solace of hate. ”
Cassandra stiffened. “And just what is that supposed to mean? ”
“Let me ask you something, Cassandra. For two thousand years, you ’ve lived with the anger, the humiliation, the betrayal of your trust by Methos. Letting your resentment build and build, to the point where your need for revenge is stronger than your desire to survive. So, when I found you two days ago, why weren ’t you hunting Methos? Why is it Kronos whose trail you were on? ”
It was a question she hadn ’t anticipated. “I – I didn ’t know Methos was still alive. All I knew about was Kronos. ”
“Yeah, but you said yourself that survival was job one for Methos. You had to figure that if Kronos had endured the millennia, there was a good chance Methos had, too. ”
“Maybe, but I didn ’t know where to look. I had a lead on Kronos, so I went with it. ”
Duncan shook his head. “When you talk about the Horsemen, I see your pain and grief over the villagers, your anger at being captured and enslaved. But when you talk about Methos, I see naked fury in your eyes. And when you were together the other night... ” He shook his head again at the memory, then closed the distance between them, pinning her in place with his steady gaze. “All that anger, all that hate, all directed toward him. Why wouldn ’t you want to search out that man first and make him pay? ”
“What does it matter who I chose to hunt first? ” Cassandra felt an irrational surge of resentment at the questioning. “I would have found Methos eventually. ”
“Maybe. Then again, maybe you ’re not being completely honest with yourself about your motivations. Finding Methos would have forced you to do that. Maybe you ’ve just grown too comfortable with the rage to risk giving it up. ”
They stood a few feet apart, glaring into one another ’s faces, when they felt the buzz indicating the arrival of another immortal. Knowing who it would be, they scarcely budged, even when Methos ’ voice rang out, “Good morning, team. ”
Methos slowed his stride as he surveyed the unexpectedly confrontational tableau before him. Cassandra and MacLeod looked almost ready to square off and trade punches. Not a good start for Team Methos.
Watching as the two of them stopped glaring and turned their separate ways, Cassandra walking to the other side of the dojo with arms folded, he could see that whatever they ’d been arguing about was far from resolved, and would likely contaminate their attitudes for the bulk of this meeting. Par for this course, he reflected sourly. Could nothing go right in this whole bloody mess? The last thing he needed was more angst in the mix.
Pondering his options for a non-incendiary opening remark, Methos noted absently that MacLeod appeared to have just finished a substantial workout. Less absently, he noted that the Highlander still held his sword with a grip that meant business. As Duncan turned a less-than-friendly glower his way, Methos ’ eyes fell upon the bloody towel Cassandra had left on the bench.
This meeting ’s prospects just kept getting better and better.
He had anticipated a cool, even frosty reception from his friend, not this burning hostility that seemed directed toward both himself and Cassandra. It appeared Methos ’ game plan for running this informational meeting would require some last-minute tweaking. He thought once more of the risks of improvisation, then forced himself to make a start.
“Well, I met with Kronos yesterday and sealed the deal. He has seven days to collect two teammates; any later, and he forfeits. ”
“He ’ll be there. Any indication of who he ’s going to get? ” The question was innocent, but Duncan ’s tone was demanding.
“It ’s immaterial, ” replied Methos. “All that matters is that we are properly prepared. ”
“This might be a good time to give us some details about the contest, then, ” Duncan said, facing Methos squarely, his arms folded, the katana still in his hand. Cassandra drifted toward them, also with her arms folded. They presented themselves not exactly as a united front, but as two enemies facing an enemy they had in common.
“That is the point of this meeting, ” the common enemy said lightly. And he told them exactly what the contest would involve.
Ignoring Cassandra ’s rolling eyes and Duncan ’s head-shaking, he continued. “I ’m on my way after this to finalize the rental of the facility. Kronos doesn ’t know which one I ’ve chosen, so tampering won ’t be an issue. And I ’m paying extra for the installation of metal detectors and additional supervision of the game, to ensure everyone ’s safety. ”
“I can just imagine Kronos ’ reaction to the choice of such a childish activity, ” Cassandra muttered, hinting at her own displeasure.
“I think I mentioned before that our contests were usually somewhat juvenile in nature. ”
“You also said they were non-combative, ” Duncan growled pointedly.
“Yes, but I knew that Kronos would require something a little more confrontational – it wouldn ’t hold his interest otherwise. That ’s why I chose something that is completely non-contact and safe. ”
“Safe! ” Cassandra snickered. “What a word. There ’s nothing safe about any of this. ”
“You opted yourself into it, ” Methos reminded her, fighting to maintain his patience.
“Can we stick to the point of this meeting? ” Duncan demanded. The old immortal had rarely seen the Scot so agitated, and moved almost unconsciously out of range of his sword.
“Sure thing, ” he said, trying once again to project a light mood. He motioned them into the office, and Duncan stalked along behind him, glowing with hostility. Cassandra reluctantly brought up the rear.
Spreading a large paper out on the desk, Methos began. “This is a blueprint of the playing field. For our purposes, there will be two bases – one for us, one for them. Defense of the base is the top priority; once it has been disabled three times, the game is over. ”
He glanced at Duncan and saw him peering fiercely at the drawing. Good, he thought. Keep channeling all that belligerence into the contest and there will be no need to watch my head. At least, where MacLeod is concerned. He continued.
“All around the room, there are obstacles and shelters, places to hide, to use for ambushes. The light is low and the air will be murky, and there may be a lot of noise that will cover sounds made by both teams, making it easier to sneak up on your opponent. ”
“And for your opponent to sneak up on you, ” Cassandra observed sharply.
“That too, ” he agreed. “The terrain is widely varied, with one of the bases being on slightly higher ground. The distribution of the bases will be determined by a coin toss right before the contest. ” He sat on the edge of the desk, arms loosely folded, giving a relaxed appearance. “Any questions? ”
Duncan moved abruptly, pacing the office like a caged beast. Methos deliberately didn ’t watch him but could tell each time he got closer by the radiating heat of his antagonism. One of his mantras began running itself automatically in the background of his consciousness.
Cassandra leaned close to him. “I have a question. What aren ’t you telling us about this contest? ”
She was too close, trampling his personal space all to hell. After yesterday ’s incident with Kronos, he was a little hypersensitive, and he edged away before he realized he was doing it.
“I suppose there are a great many little things I ’ve left out, ” he said, still aiming for an airy tone. “What specifically would you like to know? ”
She studied his face for what seemed like eons. “I know you ’re keeping secrets, Methos. ” Her voice was nearly a whisper in his ear. She had leaned in even closer, and he felt a rising panic at the intrusion. Suddenly his face felt warm, and he wondered mindlessly whether that meant it had reddened or paled.
He had an overwhelming urge to shove her away, but the memory of their physical confrontation two nights ago helped to stay that reflex. That, and the fact that the Marching MacLeod had stopped pacing and was standing directly beside him – between himself and the doorway.
Methos took a breath and forced an ironic smile. “I have many secrets, Cassandra. But I assure you that I ’ve given you all the information needed to survive this contest. ” He pulled from his jacket a brochure from the facility he was renting, placed it on the desk, and used one of Duncan ’s pens to scribble on it. “Here is the date and time the contest is to start. I will come by here 90 minutes earlier to pick you both up. I think it ’s prudent for us to arrive early and as a group. ” Pocketing the pen, he rose languidly from his perch on the desk.
“Now, if you ’ll excuse me, I have some errands to run. ” He took a step toward the doorway, which Duncan was blocking. Briefly, they remained in this posture – Duncan with arms folded and still clutching the sword, Methos looking relaxed with his hands in his jacket pockets – before Duncan took a single step to one side.
“I ’ll be in touch, ” Methos called as he walked out of the dojo. He waited until he was out on the sidewalk before taking a deep, slightly quaking breath.
There was a moment of thunderous silence in the office, then Duncan turned on his heel and stalked through the doorway and toward the elevator. “I need a shower, ” he said.
Cassandra watched him into the lift, then hurried out of the dojo in time to see Methos round the corner. As she stepped out to follow, she saw another man move away from the car he ’d been leaning against and round the same corner, trying too hard to look casual.
Secrets all around, she thought.
She began to walk faster, keeping them both in sight.
Chapter Ten
Kronos leaned back in satisfaction, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Glancing to his right, he saw his brother Caspian, to his left, Silas. The smile twitched wider. All that was missing was a certain wily, old immortal, and he would be joining them soon enough. Kronos ’ smile turned into chuckles, and then an outright laugh.
Silas joined his laughter willingly, comprehension not required for merriment. Caspian, however, merely slashed an evil grin at his brothers, his attention held more firmly by the visibly frightened flight attendant. Kronos was sure he could see his brother scenting the young woman ’s fear in the air.
“Brother, ” he stated quietly, putting his hand on Caspian ’s arm, “you will have plenty of time to play later. I need your attention now. ” With one last leer at the pretty blonde, Caspian turned back to his brothers.
“So, brother, are you finally going to tell us where we are going? ” Silas ’ voice boomed throughout the empty first class section of the airplane. Kronos was once again thankful that he had purchased all the seats, ensuring privacy for their conversation.
“Yes, ” hissed Caspian. “Why the need for secrecy? Is there something you don ’t want us to know? ”
“Do you question me, Caspian? ” The note of command in Kronos ’ voice was unmistakable. The habits of one thousand years could be forgotten, but not broken. Caspian immediately came to heel.
“Forgive me brother. I am certain you had a reason for releasing me from that hellhole of a hospital. But I was growing rather fond of the food. ” A dreamy look crossed Caspian ’s face as he remembered licking blood off the doctor ’s face as he lay dying.
Throwing a look of disgust at Caspian, Silas broke in with another question.
“Where is Methos? Does he not ride with us? You said we ride, Kronos. We cannot ride without Methos. ”
Hearing Caspian snicker, Kronos raised his hand to forestall any comments; comments that were sure to incite anger in their large companion. He did not wish to mediate their bickering during the long flight.
“I will answer all your questions now. The timing has been … problematic to this point. I had only a week to retrieve you both. Explanations had to wait. Your patience will be rewarded. ” The last was said with a sly grin that heartened both of the former Horsemen. That grin always presaged destruction in the past.
“Now, where to begin? Perhaps with a dark street … ” Kronos quickly brought Caspian and Silas up to date on the details of his encounter with Methos in Seacouver. He glossed over Methos ’ reluctance to rejoin his brothers, and emphasized the importance of the contest. Nothing could be allowed to stand in the way of winning the contest.
“So, it was Methos ’ idea to have a contest? ” Silas seemed confused by this.
“Yes, brother. ” Kronos felt no need to confuse the large man by explaining that Methos had the offered the contest as a way to avoid dying or rejoining their brotherhood.
“But the contests were for Caspian and me. You and Methos never – And we never had teams before - And we –
“Shut up! ” Caspian snapped. “It is simple. There is a contest … we will win. Just as I always did in the past. ”
“You did not always win! ” Silas defended himself. “I remember the time we had to blow feathers, you lost. Methos said I had great lungs. And the time we had to hold a lion carcass overhead. I lifted the carcass off you when you fell. ” As Silas paused to draw breath, Caspian surged into the gap.
“What of the race? Do you remember the race? Your lungs did you no good that day. Ten times around the camp it was, I lapped you by the fifth circuit. You died in the dust like a dog. ” Caspian ’s eyes filled with glee as he recalled his prize from that contest, a tender little morsel of a slave girl. He wondered again how the flight attendant would taste.
Kronos felt like he was caught in the middle of a tennis match forever frozen at match point. Neither of his two brothers had changed, either in their animosity towards one another, or in their disregard of others around them. Although first class was empty, Kronos could not allow the argument to escalate any further.
“Enough! ” he roared. The flight attendant, who had been trying to inch even further away from the frightening passengers, jumped and fled first class, heading for the safety of tourist.
“Much though your bickering amuses me, we have more important things to discuss. ” Kronos sounded anything but amused. “Methos has tried to stack the deck in his favour by sending me off to fetch you. By the time this flight lands, we will have only twenty-four hours before the contest is slated to begin. ”
“But brother, ” Caspian interrupted, “he will have set traps for us. He has the advantage. He is the planner, the schemer. ” Caspian ’s dislike for Methos shone through the words he spoke.
“You underestimate me brother, just as Methos has. ” Kronos ’ voice was once again silky, underscored by a subtle sense of violence barely held in check. “I know exactly what Methos has done to prepare for this contest. I know where it is to be held. I know what safeguards he has put in place. I know just how much it cost me to override those safeguards. Good help is hard to find, ” he noted, “but I seem to have found it. ”
“So, you intend to beat him at his own game? ” Caspian sounded thrilled at the prospect of seeing Methos humbled.
“But we won ’t hurt him, will we? ” Silas was confused and concerned. “You and Methos always said we never raise a blade to each other in anger. ”
“Of course not brother. ” Kronos could afford a little time to soothe Silas now. “I have never wished to hurt Methos. I only want him back with our little family. He has lost his way over the years. Fallen in with a bad crowd. ” Kronos stifled a grin at the irony of that statement.
Silas seemed satisfied at Kronos ’ explanation. “How do we help him, brother? ”
“Well, we have to eliminate the bad influences on him. My employee has been unable to determine the identity of Methos ’ second teammate. ” Kronos almost ground his teeth as he admitted that. “We do, however, know that his first choice was Duncan MacLeod. If we want Methos back, we will have to eliminate Duncan MacLeod. ”
Caspian and Silas nodded, leaning forward as Kronos unveiled his plan to destroy Methos ’ last hope.
Chapter Eleven
It was nearly over, one way or another. The contest was tomorrow, and things would soon come to an end.
Duncan was sitting at his desk in the dojo, pretending to read but no longer sure what book he was holding. His mind could not leave the conflict that would take place tomorrow, nor the one that had been going on for a week already.
He was angry and frustrated to know that a part of him still wanted to make excuses for Methos, to find a way to hold onto the friendship they ’d developed. He had expended considerable energy the last few days smothering that impulse as much as possible. It was also infuriating that, even armed with the knowledge of his atrocious crimes, when Duncan looked at Methos, he still saw the friend, not the monster. Another intolerable betrayal of judgment.
And yet he had pledged to fight – and it would come to a fight, none of them doubted that – at the side of this monster tomorrow, and he would honor that as he did all such pledges. He was, after all, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod – it ’s what he did.
But the fight …ah, the fight itself was shrouded in questions, not the least of which was this: When the chips were down, who would be on whose side? The chasm between himself and Cassandra had steadily widened all week, her antipathy towards Methos seemed to intensify in random, wild bursts, and Methos …well, who ever really knew what those well-veiled eyes concealed? It was reasonable to assume that the World ’s Greatest Survivor would choose his ultimate course of action when the winds made their final prediction.
The question was, what would Duncan do when that happened? It wasn ’t much of a question, really. Duncan had pretty well analyzed the likely outcomes of the situation, and in most cases, his appropriate response was pretty clear-cut.
In most cases.
Leaning back in his chair, Duncan put his head back, eyed the sword that hung on the wall, and sighed.
Methos sat in his armchair by the light of the city much as he had that first night a week ago, holding a beer and with his Ivanhoe nearby. Unlike that night, however, he was reasonably relaxed and had no need to gulp the beer to drown surging memories and emotions.
No need to use the chessboard to organize the situation this time, either. He had it all well in hand, and mind, now. The arrangements had all been made, both the obvious ones and those that were less above the board. The ducks were all lined up in their neat little row, and he was prepared for what lay ahead.
Lifting the bottle to his lips, he mentally snickered at that assessment. No one knew better than he what could happen to the best-laid plans, nor understood better the depths of Kronos ’ deviousness. He had taken substantial precautions, certainly, but he was experienced enough and enough of a realist to acknowledge that there were always blind spots and unanticipated machinations.
Yet for all that, he was feeling satisfied with his preparations. MacLeod was onboard, however torn, and would serve him in good stead despite being conflicted and feeling betrayed. After the contest, Methos himself would feel more equal to Kronos and able to approach him in battle. In fact, he was already more than halfway there …
Quickly he took another drink and shooed away the uneasiness that was dragged along by that thought. His uneasiness grew when he realized how he had just misstated the situation. The point of the contest, he reminded himself, was to convince Kronos of their equal footing, not himself. Strange that he would confuse that now.
And then there was his ever-disturbing wild card … Thoughts of Cassandra rated another hoist of the bottle. She didn ’t belong in the scenario, but she was part of a package deal with MacLeod; one for the price of two. He started to ask what he ’d done to deserve this, but thought better of it immediately.
No matter. He ’d managed with considerable effort to get a handle on his feelings where she was concerned and was confident that she wouldn ’t agitate him so badly the next time they met. It was all a matter of compartmentalization, and he ’d been building strong boxes all week.
He lifted the bottle again, and was mildly surprised to find it empty. He sat contemplating the empty bottle for some time more, hardly noticing the mantra running through his subconscious.
In the loft, Cassandra was motionless in her nightgown, covered up to her chin, clutching her pillow as she lay on her side. She looked for all the world as though she were at rest.
She was not.
Her internal landscape was as dynamic as her exterior was still. The emotional activity was so high it exhausted her completely, and yet sleep – or even a moment of peace – would come nowhere near her.
Cassandra had almost begun to wish she had never found Kronos, or at least had managed to challenge him before the trail had led here. Her purpose and course of action had been perfectly clear one week earlier; now … Never had she been so baffled by her own feelings, nor so unable to predict her own reactions.
Her anger at Duncan, which she had nurtured and maintained all week, was, she knew, a cover. She didn ’t want to think about the issues he had raised, so she focused on her resentment, her outrage at the questions she told herself a true friend would not ask, had no right to voice. And it had worked, generally, allowing her to drown out those questions in the racket created by her ire.
Except at night, when the ire died down despite efforts to stoke it, and the questions made themselves heard and were harder to ignore.
Why hadn ’t she ever searched for Methos? He had been instrumental in defining and shaping her early life as an immortal, and most of her emotional makeup. She felt and resented his influence constantly to this very day. How many hours she ’d spent wishing for his death, imagining it, planning it. Why, then had she never taken a single step toward making it a reality?
Suspecting she might be able to answer this question if she stared it in the face with her emotional armor discarded, she cast it aside and thought about Methos himself, as he was now. She found it shocking that he had become so passive, so uninvolved, when she remembered him as assertive and dominant, second only to Kronos. When and how had this cold, ruthless killer made the transition to being a man who lived in shadow and would do nearly anything to avoid fighting?
At this thought, her rage reared up with unexpected ardor. Although it was clear that her presence was upsetting to Methos, he nevertheless managed to maintain his poise and self-control – at least when she wasn ’t physically attacking him. This made her even more enraged, perhaps because her own emotions were so off-the-scale around him that it seemed impossible that he would not be similarly unbalanced around her.
Suddenly, Cassandra came up on one elbow and pounded the pillow with her other fist, again and again and again, barely aware of the soft grunts that accompanied each blow. Breathing hard, her cheeks reddened, she turned over abruptly and flopped back down.
Surely sleep would come soon.
Chapter Twelve
Sweeping, desert landscape …a humble nomad clan …the screaming, the fleeing …the buzz …horses ’ hooves, making too little sound for the intensity of force as they furiously pound the sand …fearsome riders burning with the white-hot lust for power and blood …the buzz …terror thick in the arid air …the buzz, the buzz!
Methos surfaced from the dream damp all over, convinced he was being restrained. In fact, he had simply become entangled in the sheet. Usually, he slept quietly, with little movement.
Releasing himself from the bedding, he grabbed the Ivanhoe from beneath his pillow and silently crept toward the door of his apartment, the motion chilling his chest, arms, and shoulders as air caressed him through the sweat. He could feel the other immortal just on the other side of the door, quiet and motionless. Stealing a quick look through the peephole told him nothing. Whoever it was, they were carefully standing outside of its range.
Screw the waiting game, he thought irritably. Knock, kick in the door, or get the hell out of here. I ’m tired.
After several minutes, his lungs aching from instinctively holding his breath, Methos could wait no longer. Turning the locks as silently as possible, he twisted the knob and pulled open the door. Stepping through it cautiously, he was startled into a near coronary failure as Cassandra whirled from her place against the wall and into his path.
Slouching back against the doorjamb, he closed his eyes, first noting that her sword was not drawn. “What the hell are you doing, lurking out here? ”
“Did I wake you? ” she smirked. Without waiting for the clever retort he might eventually think of, she walked into his apartment uninvited. He rested his head against the doorjamb, cursing silently, and followed her.
She was taking stock of his living area, making the rounds as though cataloging his possessions for insurance purposes. Rubbing his eyes, he propped himself against the back of the armchair and folded his arms, standing in his boxers and still holding the sword loosely. He wondered how she had found out where he lived. As angry as he was with Methos, MacLeod would not have given her the address.
“Cassandra, what do you want? ”
She turned, and he noted now the hastily donned old sweater and jeans, the limpness of her long hair, and especially her eyes – the dark circles, the redness where white should be. She was here because she could not rest.
“You know, that ’s the first time you ’ve ever said that to me. ”
“Said what? ”
“What do I want? ” She continued to move around the room, touching his things, picking them up, handling them. “That was never much of a concern for you, was it, Methos? ”
He sighed impatiently. No. No ghost hunts, not tonight. Nothing could change their past, but emotional turmoil could certainly impact their immediate future. “Go home, Cassandra. There ’s too much at stake tomorrow for this. ”
Cassandra looked at him inscrutably, setting down a small figurine she ’d picked up. Looking across the room, she walked toward a bookcase and ran her finger along the spines, stroking them as though for pleasure. Noticing Methos ’ nervous shifting of weight, she correctly surmised that knick-knacks were one thing, but books were quite another.
Finding a volume that looked especially ancient and fragile, she pulled it from the shelf and began to leaf through it quickly, carelessly. He crossed the room, extending his hand to take the book away, but she quickly thrust it behind her, placing her body between it and him, daring him to go after it. Concerned for the book ’s welfare, Methos attempted to reach around her. She turned enough to keep him from getting to the book, and he reached with the other hand, shifting the sword he ’d forgotten he held. She laughed at him, at her success in forcing him to play this game.
He stopped, willing his hands to his sides. “Give me the book. ”
“Take it from me. ”
Frustrated, he demanded again, “What is it you want? ”
She glanced down at his hand. “Am I so formidable that you need to keep your sword handy? ”
“I find it ’s best to maintain a cautious stance with unannounced late-night visitors. ” He kept the tone light and in character, but his face told a different story as he stepped back a tiny pace.
Cassandra leaned toward him unexpectedly, caressing the sword with her fingers. “You ’re very careful not to touch me. Who is it you don ’t trust here, Methos? Me …or yourself? ”
“Stop this right now, ” he said harshly. He ’d been aiming for authoritative but managed only desperate. As he said it, he turned away, anxious for some distance. To his shock, she gave a forceful shove to his upper arm and shoulder, propelling him in his chosen direction, and swung one leg to pull his feet out from under him. He hit the floor hard, his sword bouncing out of his grasp, and momentarily had the wind sucked from his lungs.
There was no time to process this incomprehensible turn of events, as she was now straddling him, flipping him onto his back and forcing his shoulders down against the carpeted floor. “Remember our first time, Methos? Master? ” The mask of the dangerous seductress had slipped away now, revealing a face etched by centuries of remembered humiliation and subjugation.
“Get off, ” he gasped, trying to re-inflate lungs now constricted by her weight. Shocking him again, Cassandra slapped him with all her strength and he tasted blood as his teeth cut into his cheek.
In his mind, he felt the two of them exchanging places, he over her now, teaching her what he expected from his humble servant. Using methods and teaching aids that would be frowned upon in most educational systems today – slaps, arm-twisting, hair-yanking, knives and other implements of pain and fear …and death …
In her face he could see equal parts terror and hatred, both of which pleased him, because the conquest was less exciting when it went unchallenged. Kronos had been the one to open up this particular field of interest for him. Before the Horsemen, Methos had had little firsthand experience with the deliberate creation of fear in another person. Then Kronos had taught him not only how to open the floodgates of personal terror in another, but to bathe in it, revel in it, drink it in deeply – to savor it like the coolest fresh water or the sweetest of wine …
With a violent, anguished moan, Methos threw his hands to his forehead, wishing to force away these memories from an existence long trussed up tightly and tucked away, mummy-like, into the depths of his soul. Cassandra beat his arms away from his face, slapped him viciously again (drawing more blood), and gripped his wrists tightly, pinning them to the floor on either side of his shoulders.
“I want you to look at me! ” she cried, voice harsh and almost unrecognizable. “Face me! Face what you are! ”
“I ’m not! ” His voice was low and choked. “I ’m not that! Not anymore! ”
“You are! I see it in your eyes. You ’ve always lied to everyone else, Methos, but when did you start lying to yourself? ”
He closed his eyes to her expression, which was at once filled with excitement, unquenched need, and bottomless rage. He knew his body had the necessary power to throw her off, but his muscles seemed limp and useless to him. “Please … ” It came out as a whisper. To his unimaginable horror, he realized he was near tears.
The plea and his apparent helplessness only nourished her wrath, and she began to slap him again, this time not as hard, intending to goad him, provoke him. “Come on, you should never be this willing to take your punishment! Where ’s that famous sense of sport I remember so well? Pinching, remember the pinching? You used it to punch things up a bit if I wasn ’t feeling particularly combative, didn ’t you? ”
By way of demonstration, Cassandra proceeded to pinch him – on the arms, the chest, the neck – again daring him to react. She escalated it, pinching harder and harder until she got what she wanted: that first reluctant batting at her hand as his resentment took hold.
“Yes, that ’s it. Very good. Feel the anger, just as you made me feel it, night after night. ” She continued the pinching, quickening it, leaving livid red marks, until his slapping became more impatient and less tentative, progressing to wild blows with hands closed. Finally, Methos pushed her with his right arm as he lifted his right hip, dislodging her from her perch atop him. With a growling cry, he rolled up to a sitting position and trapped her beneath him, now grinding her wrists against the floor.
Cassandra ’s face was a roiling pool of molten emotion, swirling, mixing; each second bringing a different feeling to the surface. Sitting on her, not caring that his full weight was bearing down on her, he watched the display, fascinated. He saw them all – anger, fear, self-recrimination, pain. Triumph kept making a repeat appearance, bringing home to him again and again that he – the great manipulator – had been masterfully played.
“This! ” he snarled. “Is this more to your liking? Have you got what you ’re after now? ” He felt ready – eager, even – to live up to her expectations now, and adjusted his position slightly in preparation.
The visible vortex of her emotional state swirled ever faster at that, and now a new player showed itself, bringing him up short. He watched her face, uncertain that he ’d really seen it.
There it was, yes. Desire. There in the midst of her hatred, her terror, her disgust. After two thousand years, there still lived in Cassandra a browbeaten girl convinced that his attentions – however brutal – might somehow ease her pain, her loss, her fear. Maybe even, just possibly, make them both whole.
The transition from rage to astonishment created the sensation of a roller coaster making a sudden sharp turn at full speed, and in his disorientation he realized that once, all those millennia ago, he had secretly harbored a similar hope.
Reeling from this unexpected revelation, Methos entertained what minutes ago would have seemed ludicrous: Maybe she was right. Maybe they could achieve together what they had not accomplished apart.
The flood waters of his anger receding, he loosened his grip on her wrists until he was only holding rather than restraining, shifting his weight to stop crushing her. He wasn ’t aware of his thumbs gently caressing the pulse in each of her wrists. Their eyes were locked and unblinking.
“Cassandra? ” It was a question, full of hope and limitless depths of need, offered in a broken, honest voice seldom heard by anyone in 5000 years.
They were both breathing hard, from physical and emotional exertion. He continued to stare into her face, mesmerized by the unabated ebb and flow of feelings playing across it. She seemed to be searching her very soul for her answer to his almost subliminal question.
He could see her decision as it came, when desire rose to the top and maintained its position, fighting back all others that strove to prevail. But it came with a partner, a barely acknowledged and ruthlessly cowed subordinate that nevertheless captured his attention and chilled his heart.
It was shame he saw in her eyes, even as she recognized and accepted her longing.
So linked were they, so fully intertwined, that they shared these thoughts as they occurred. It was a moment of total communication and unspeakable intimacy, the like of which neither had ever experienced, nor likely would again.
He pulled away, rolling lethargically off of Cassandra and crawling a few feet to lean heavily against a wall, completely spent. She continued to lie as he ’d left her, eyes closed, for some time. Methos finally forced himself into a sitting position, back to the wall, folding his legs up toward his chest and hugging them, resting his spinning head on his knees.
At last he heard her stirring and, lifting his head, saw her get to her feet. She seemed less imposing, as though she had grown shorter since her arrival; she looked somehow lost within her sweater. Her clothes and hair were in disarray and she made no effort to tidy them. She did not look at him, and he said nothing as she walked wordlessly across the room and out of the apartment.
There was silence in the room, but Methos could hear the rushing of the blood through his brain.
Chapter Thirteen
At exactly ninety minutes before the contest start time, Methos entered the dojo. He was wearing a black turtleneck and black jeans, as suited the occasion. It was important to blend into the background during the contest.
He had felt MacLeod before he left the outer hallway, and the Highlander – also in black – was already watching him as he came into the workout room. Methos scanned the room quickly.
“Where ’s Cassandra? I told you both we needed to arrive ear – ”
Duncan had already started to cross the room at a brisk pace the moment he entered, and now he took Methos ’ arm in a crushing grip, pulling him toward the office. The older immortal had been dragged for several paces before his impatience drove him to yank his arm away. When Duncan took his arm again, Methos pulled away harder, taking a couple of steps backward.
“What do you think you ’re doing? ”
“We need to talk. ”
“Talking ’s a non-contact sport. ”
Duncan gave a forceful sigh. “I want to keep it private. ” When Methos made no move, Duncan motioned toward the office in an almost courtly gesture of invitation.
The old man was in no mood to be manhandled, nor indeed for a private chat with yet another person who had a grudge against him. But since it appeared that their departure would be delayed until he participated in the pre-game show, he returned MacLeod ’s inviting gesture with a great flourish, and the Scot grudgingly led the way into the office, indicating that Methos should close the door once inside.
Duncan stood by the window and folded his arms. “What happened last night? ”
“What are you talking about? ”
“Cassandra left in the middle of the night. When she came back, she was a mess, like she ’d been in a fight. She was crying, but she wouldn ’t talk about it. ”
“Why assume I had anything to do with it? ”
“Because you ’re all she talks about, you ’re all she thinks about, and the whole thing is driving her insane. ”
Methos snorted. “It ’s not as if I instigated this blast from my past, you know. I was quite content, minding my own business – ” As he spoke, MacLeod took three strides and gripped him by the lapels of his trench coat.
“What did you do to her? ”
Methos had to give a short, barking laugh at that. “Believe me, you ’re reversing the question completely. It ’s not every night a woman shows up at my door to clean my clock. By the way, how do you suppose she knew where to find me? ”
The distraction worked like a charm. Duncan ’s expression shifted from fierce to puzzled and he released Methos ’ coat. “She came to you? To your apartment? ”
“With a vengeance. Fortunately, head-hunting wasn ’t on her mind, or we ’d have one team member on the permanently disabled roster. ”
Duncan had turned away, moving to the window and putting his hand on the sill. Hoping against hope that they could wrap things up now, Methos said, “So, if you ’re satisfied that I haven ’t wronged the lady, perhaps you ’d be good enough to fetch her so we – ”
He regretted the choice of phrasing the instant it left his mouth, and not just because MacLeod spun around and looked ready to thrash him. He threw up his hands in a mollifying gesture. “I was referring to last night, obviously, not to ancient history. ”
“What is really going on here, Methos? What ’s your true agenda? I need to know before I let her go into this in the shape she ’s in. ”
“My agenda, strangely enough, is precisely as I ’ve expressed to you. Kronos wants me to join him, I don ’t want to, the contest will serve to equalize us in combat …and I need your help. Desperately. ” He turned slightly, hands in his coat pockets, and leaned against the wall, just beside the doorknob, planning as always for a quick getaway if needed. He added, gently, “And truthfully, I don ’t think it ’s your decision about Cassandra. She ’s her own person, making her own decisions. ”
“Decisions that are being driven by events from two thousand years ago. By things that you were responsible for doing to her. ”
“True enough. But what do you expect me to do about that now? I didn ’t want her in on this. She insisted, remember? ”
MacLeod ’s frustration hovered in the office like a storm cloud. Unable to find an argument against what Methos was saying, he decided to address what hadn ’t been said.
“How could you do it, Methos? ” His voice was choked and quiet. “How could you have done those things? To all those people? To Cassandra? ”
Methos heaved a sigh that seemed to span ages. “I know it sounds lame to say this, MacLeod. But the world truly was a very different place back then than it was even when you were born. The beginnings of civilization were just that, beginnings. The concept of human rights wasn ’t even a glimmer in anyone ’s eye.
“People were made into slaves routinely. It was commonplace, accepted, even expected. And the people who were unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end would have been just as quick to take slaves themselves if their positions had been reversed. It was the way of the world.
“Those who were strong took what they wanted by whatever means was expedient. Life was cheap because it was short – for mortals, anyway – and there wasn ’t any reverence for other people, other cultures. It was a textbook demonstration of Darwinism at work. ”
“But the killing, ” Duncan interjected.
“Was necessary for the strong to maintain their dominance. Without the barbarism, there was no fear, and without fear, no power. ”
“Stop using the third person, Methos, ” Duncan said, right in Methos ’ face now. “You killed all those people, you were the one using barbarism. And you … ”
“I what? ”
“You …enjoyed it. ” MacLeod ’s eyes were boring into his, almost pleading for him to convincingly deny the accusation.
Methos met that gaze without flinching, but also without granting his friend ’s wish. “Yes, I did. Completely and wholeheartedly. It was part of what I lived for, I ’ll admit that. Do I like that about myself? No. Can I deny it? Absolutely not. ”
As MacLeod ’s expression looked pained, then hardened: “Can I erase it? No. Do I still long for it? No! That part of me is gone, MacLeod, long dead. I buried it many centuries before you were even on the planet. Why can ’t you handle the fact that in my 5000 years, I did some things that you do not approve of? Why does our friendship have to hinge on whether I got pleasure from doing those things at the time? ”
“Because it means I misjudged you! ” Duncan spat. “It means you ’re capable of things that I never dreamed of, and that you ’re not the person I ’ve thought you were all along. ”
Now Methos folded his own arms, squinting dangerously at his friend. “Well, then that makes you guilty of voluntary stupidity. How long have you known the truth about who I am, MacLeod? Long enough to have figured out that a man who has lived for 5000 years has probably pretty much run the gamut of human behaviors. The world has changed dramatically over that period, but I have always lived as a man of the times. ”
He gave a derisive laugh. “Did you honestly believe that I brought a 20th-century sensibility to life in the Middle Ages or ancient Greece? Did you think I championed equality when social norms demanded I keep slaves? No, I lived as a member of whatever society I belonged to at the time. I didn ’t dispute the customs, I lived by them, because they were my customs, too. ”
“So torture and rape were among the customs you embraced? ” MacLeod ’s eyes shot him a perilous challenge. Suddenly, they were talking about Cassandra again.
Methos pinched the bridge of his nose. “Again, we are talking about the social norms of the day. Think about it. Unless a person was born into slavery, they tended to resist adopting the slave mindset. It was necessary to break them down and remold them to suit them for whatever role they were intended to fulfill. ”
“By torturing and humiliating them? ”
“Yes. ”
“By taking pleasure in it? ”
“All right, that ’s enough! ” Methos was close to losing control of himself for the first time during this encounter. “You can ’t get your mind around someone getting off on hurting and degrading another person, because you can ’t imagine yourself doing so. But you were born in a different place and time from me, MacLeod, so you don ’t really know what you might have been capable of in my day and age. Do you? ”
“I know what I think about what you did to Cassandra and her people, and no, I don ’t think I ’d be capable of that. In any time or place. ”
Methos laughed loudly, a chilling sound in the small office. “That ’s because you can ’t imagine yourself as anything other than Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, righter of wrongs and arbiter of justice. I, on the other hand, don ’t have to imagine. I have been a great many different things. I know how malleable the human soul can be. ”
As Duncan started to turn away in disgust, Methos found himself grabbing him by the shirt. “No, you will stand still and hear this. You know what your problem is? You want to blind yourself to unpleasant realities …about life, about me, and especially, about yourself. Because if I could do the things I ’ve done, maybe you ’re capable of them, too. ”
MacLeod tried to pull away, but Methos gripped the shirt tighter and tugged him close. “But that ’s what all this is really about, isn ’t it MacLeod? It ’s about you, and your hurt, and your anger. You feel that I lied to you, that I pulled the wool over your eyes, fooled the great Duncan MacLeod, detector of evil. And now you ’re going to hide behind your horror at what I did thousands of years ago, instead of facing your disappointment at what you think I did to you in the last few years. ”
Duncan hands grasped Methos ’ wrists forcefully, but the older immortal held firm to the unlucky black fabric.
“What do you see when you look at me, MacLeod? Do you see the … the young grad student in need of protection? The mild-mannered, non-violent immortal masquerading as a Watcher? Well, that ’s not me, MacLeod, that ’s Adam Pierson, a fiction I created to help me stay out of the Game. Away from killing, away from violence. But make no mistake, my friend, once upon a time...I was Death. And you would do well not to forget that. ”
MacLeod seemed frozen, mesmerized by what he was seeing in the old man ’s eyes. Inanely, Methos suddenly felt that MacLeod had somehow shrunk, until he realized that the perception came from the way MacLeod was looking at him, as one would regard some unfamiliar, horrifying beast. He felt a stab of astonishment laced with regret and released the shirt abruptly, pulling back shaking hands. Backing away, he noted Duncan ’s gaze traveling toward the door at the same time as he felt the approach of an immortal. Methos turned to see Cassandra just disembarking the elevator and walking toward the office.
Dressed all in black like her teammates, she looked small but hard, even brittle, wound so tightly it was clearly an effort to move without jerking or lashing out. Apparently unaware of any emotional upheaval in the air, she looked at them both with shrouded eyes.
“We ’re late, ” she said.
Chapter Fourteen
Kronos sat, drumming his fingers against the wheel of the black Hummer he had ‘procured ’ for the use of the Horsemen. Silas was content to gaze out the window at the facility that would house the contest; he stretched his legs and turned a laughing face to his brothers.
“I like this Hummer much better than the airplane brother. A man can move and breathe in here. Not as good as a horse, but good. ” Silas accompanied the final words with a blow to Kronos ’ shoulder and a nod to Caspian.
“Only you would find a horse better than a machine that can carry you twice as far in half the time. ” The disgust in Caspian ’s tone was thick as molasses.
A raised hand by Kronos stalled Silas ’ return volley before it truly began. “You are trying my patience, brother. Both of you are here on my sufferance. Do not forget who is in charge of this undertaking. ”
Silence reigned after Kronos ’ pronouncement. Caspian contemplated the uses of the vast trunk space of the Hummer, while Silas turned his attention to some birds wheeling overhead. Kronos continued to drum the steering wheel in barely restrained impatience.
Just as Kronos thought he would have to hit something to relieve his tension, a non-descript man hurried out of the facility toward the SUV. Breathing a quiet sigh, Kronos stepped out of the truck.
The first five minutes of the drive from the dojo had been excruciatingly tense. MacLeod had chosen to ride in the front with Methos, leaving the back seat to Cassandra and her brittle silence. At least her stillness is better than the dark looks the Highlander keeps throwing my way, thought Methos.
“You know, if you ’re not careful, your face will freeze like that. ” As an icebreaker, it was not one of the best Methos had produced. Suppressing a cringe, he continued, “Really MacLeod, we don ’t have time for you to brood. ”
“We ’re on our way, what else would you have us do … Methos? ” Duncan emphasized the old man ’s name in a manner that indicated he was still smarting from the revelations in the dojo.
Methos wrapped his unflappable calm around him like a cloak, the mantras continuing unabated in the back of his mind. “I would have you reach into the glove box and pull out that box. ”
MacLeod opened the box as Cassandra leaned forward, her interest piqued by Methos ’ tone. The inside of the box revealed three comma-shaped pieces of plastic, none bigger than a thumbnail, and three black elastic bands with what looked like small microphones attached. Touching the edge of the box lightly, she asked the required question, “What is this? ”
“What are you up to now, Methos? This looks like communications equipment. ” MacLeod sounded condemning, and Methos shook his head slightly before answering.
“Yes, MacLeod, it is communications equipment. ” He spoke slowly, as he would to a child. “I told you, there will be noise piped in to cover the sound of movement. Probably loud rock music, ” Methos ignored the look of outrage that crossed Duncan ’s face at this. “These little babies will let us remain in contact with each other regardless. ”
Reaching over, Methos lifted one of the small plastic pieces out of the box, shifting his eyes back to the road quickly. Wouldn ’t do to have a fatal accident on the way to the contest. Holding the piece in the palm of his hand where both MacLeod and Cassandra could see it, he began to lecture in what he privately referred to as his ‘Dr. Pierson ’ voice.
“This is an earpiece. It is small enough to remain undetected by anything other than close scrutiny. The case is plastic, and it contains an independent power source. Sorry MacLeod, you won ’t have one of those cords running into your coat like the Secret Service. It borrows from advances made in technology for hearing aids.
“The second component is the microphone assembly. The band goes around your neck, with the mike positioned over your larynx. It is somewhat uncomfortable at first, but it eliminates the interference of background noise. This is old technology, German Panzer commanders used it during the Second World War, but the casing has been updated to limit the metal content. ”
So intent was Methos on his recitation, that he almost missed MacLeod ’s subtle stiffening beside him. “What now MacLeod? ” he sighed. “Problems with the ethics of it? Too much like cheating for you? Gonna take me to task for using enemy technology? ”
MacLeod quickly swallowed whatever comment he had been about to make. Methos wondered how close he had been with his jabs. Cassandra impatiently waved at Methos. “I assume there ’s more for us to know? ” Her tone indicated that she had no problem with their having an edge on the competition.
“Right, where was I? This system will enable us to remain in constant communication. Anything you say will go over the system to the other users. Grab a set and put them on so you ’ll be accustomed to them by the time we get there. ” Dr. Pierson had returned, and the other two could see him mentally checking his list of information to impart.
“Why is the plastic so important? ” Cassandra ventured from the back seat. He allowed himself a glance at her in the rear view mirror, but her face was down as she worked at putting on the microphone and earpiece.
With another mental check mark, Methos turned to address the question. “I have arranged for a metal detector at the entrance to the facility. It is sensitive enough to detect a dinner knife in someone ’s pocket. Didn ’t want to risk it picking up the electronics. ”
“That should keep things fair, ” Duncan mused. “But who is manning the detector? ”
“There will be five employees on site during the contest. Four are responsible for monitoring the game and maintaining adherence to the rules of the facility. One is in charge of the metal detector and policing the entrance. ” MacLeod and Cassandra heard the satisfaction in Methos ’ tone. “I think that covers everything. We ’ll be there in ten minutes. ”
Silas and Caspian stepped out of the truck at Kronos ’ signal. Both men were thankful for the opportunity to stretch their legs before the coming conflict. They were also curious as to the identity of the man standing with their leader.
“Brothers, I would like you to meet the hired help. ” Although Kronos ’ tone was jocular, there was no mistaking the condescension with which he viewed the mortal. “Mr. Smith has information for us. ” Caspian rolled his eyes at the obvious alias and folded his arms across his chest. Silas simply looked menacing and large while he waited for Smith to speak.
“Yes, well, ” Mr. Smith nervously cleared his throat. He had thought the money for this job would compensate for a lot of things, but these three men were very intimidating and he was suddenly unsure. Swallowing his fear, he pictured his bank balance instead of the cold eyes staring at him.
“The facility was rented by a Mr. Benjamin. He paid for several extra features, including the installation of metal detectors and the wages for five employees. As instructed, I have arranged for the metal detectors to be disabled. The employees have agreed to vacate the premises after the contest begins. They have programmed the onsite computers to log all game related information and to broadcast all the necessary messages. The sound system has been pre-programmed with your music selections and set to continuous play. ”
“Quite the efficient servant you have here, brother. ” Caspian grinned as he began to circle the man. Even the illusion of self-possession caused his predatory instincts to spring to life.
“There is one other thing – “
“Does he require constant supervision? Has he failed you yet? ” The questions drowned out whatever Mr. Smith was trying to say, and the constant circling was very distracting.
Kronos laughed at Caspian ’s antics. “Hold brother. Don ’t confuse the help, we may need him again later. ”
“As I was saying, ” Smith tried again. This time it was Silas who interrupted him.
“Brothers, ” he called, “someone is coming. ” All three men froze and watched from the shadows as the vehicle approached.
Methos pulled the Jimmy to a halt in a parking space not far from the main entrance. Although the vehicle was more exposed there, it would be more convenient were a quick getaway required. Cassandra was the first to alight, looking around cautiously and stepping to the back of the truck to adjust her communications gear. Methos laid his hand on MacLeod ’s arm to stall his exit.
“Wait MacLeod, there ’s one more thing you should know. I ’ve hidden weapons throughout the playing field. ” He hurried on with his explanation before MacLeod could interrupt. “There are two swords secreted under the stairs to the catwalk in the north-east corner. Another is hidden in a barrel in the north-west section. I ’ve managed to hide other weapons in alcoves and on ledges. You should be able to find some daggers, throwing knives, stilettos and the like pretty easily. Just try to imagine where I would put them. ”
“Why are you telling me this now, Methos? Why not when Cassandra was in the car? ” MacLeod ’s anger was building again. “Are you so afraid of what she might do to you that you ’re willing to leave her defenceless? ”
Methos heaved a sigh. “She is the least of my worries at the moment, MacLeod. But frankly, I don ’t think she ’s in the proper frame of mind just now to know about these weapons. ” The old man seemed exhausted. “But believe me when I say I truly do not wish to see her hurt any more than she has been. I just wanted you to know that the weapons are there, in case Kronos tries anything. If he does, I assure you I will make sure Cassandra is able to defend herself. Or you can, if you are closer. ”
“What could he try, Methos? You ’ve planned for everything. You could probably make a career out of this. ” MacLeod made no attempt to hide his bitterness.
“You don ’t know Kronos, what he ’s capable of, what he – ”
“And I don ’t know you either, ” MacLeod interjected. “You ’ve made that abundantly clear. ” Shaking off the hand neither had realized still lay on his arm, MacLeod stepped out of the Jimmy just in time to feel approaching immortal presence, and to hear Cassandra gasp.
Chapter Fifteen
Remaining in the Jimmy for a few more seconds, Methos felt the approach of the Horsemen as a malevolent throbbing deep in his head. This was not how he ’d intended for the two groups to have their first encounter. If only he and MacLeod had not had that time-consuming heart-to-heart earlier, they might have arrived and been inside the facility well ahead of Kronos and the others.
Hearing Cassandra ’s gasp over the communications system made him suddenly aware that she was now catching her first sight of the unexpected Caspian and Silas, and that she was standing behind the Jimmy, exposed to their view as well. Rushing to open the door and get out of the truck, Methos carefully sauntered around to the back of the vehicle and casually placed himself between the advancing Horsemen and their former slave. He was careful not to make eye contact with Cassandra – flanked protectively by Duncan, aware of her distress but not the reason for it – as he did this.
He stood, hands in his pockets, like a gunfighter awaiting the latest challenge.
When Cassandra got out of the vehicle, Kronos could hardly believe his eyes. Of course, he ’d been aware of her tracking him for quite some time, and had plans to deal with her when the moment was right, but to have her involved in this little venture was far more than he would have dared hope for. He thought with some chagrin that he could have made far better use of her had he known in advance of her participation.
The glance he shot at Smith caused the mortal to recoil as from a physical blow. “I only found out about her last night, ” he sputtered, correctly guessing the cause of the dark look. “You were sleeping off jet lag. I didn ’t want to disturb you. I did try to tell you earlier. ”
Caspian, smelling blood in the water, was clearly torn between pouncing on Smith ’s discomfiture and advancing on Cassandra, a delectable treat he had been denied two thousand years ago and which he had been craving ever since. Looking at her from across the parking lot, he licked his lips.
“Patience, brother, ” Kronos murmured in his ear. “I promise you full rights to her once I ’ve returned her parting gift to me all those years ago. ” Caspian leered his agreement. Tossing a threatening “Wait here ” toward the hapless Smith, Kronos led his brothers toward their rivals, where their fourth and errant brother now stood waiting.
Of the three men standing before them, Duncan recognized only Kronos. Cassandra ’s sudden palor and Methos ’ somber demeanor told him that the other two were known to them both, and it didn ’t take precognition to guess who they were.
“Greetings, brother, ” Kronos purred to the old immortal. “First, let me thank you for your invaluable assistance in reuniting me with our lost brothers. By day ’s end, the Four Horsemen will ride again...thanks to you. ”
Duncan shot Methos a burning look, knowing he could somehow feel it on the back of his neck, but the older man gave no indication as he replied with a smirk in his voice. “Ah, Kronos. You always were one for baseless assumptions. ”
Kronos flashed a wide but mirthless grin at Methos before turning his attention to the Highlander. “Duncan MacLeod. I ’ve long looked forward to a reunion with you, as well. We have some unfinished business, you and I. ”
“I expect all debts to be made good by the time this is through, ” Duncan said calmly, arms folded.
“On that, we are in complete agreement, ” Kronos laughed. “I present to you my brothers, Silas and Caspian. Clearly, you ’ve met Methos, my dear right hand. ”
Duncan deemed it safest to say nothing.
The large man, Silas, now approached Methos with a friendly grin that seemed out of place under the circumstances. “Brother! ” he boomed, and wrapped the oldest immortal in a bear hug that lifted his feet from the ground and audibly forced air from his lungs.
“Hello, Silas, ” Methos grunted, betraying a hint of a smile and giving his back a couple of slaps.
Kronos allowed the hug to continue for some ten or so seconds before saying quietly, “Silas, put him down now. ” Silas regretfully obeyed and retreated, but not before awarding his long-lost friend with a hearty slap on the back that nearly knocked Methos to his knees.
Without warning Kronos moved toward Cassandra. “And look who we have here. ” When Duncan moved to cut him off from her, Kronos squared off, nostrils flaring over an eager grin, and Caspian and Silas moved in to offer support. In the blink of an eye, Methos was between the Scot and the scarred one, his back to MacLeod and leaning against him slightly – though whether this was to keep Duncan back or to avoid making physical contact with Kronos himself, MacLeod wasn ’t sure. Methos raised a hand to halt the approaching Silas and Caspian, the latter of whom looked to Kronos for instruction.
After a few seconds of eye contact with Methos, Kronos nodded his order to stand down, and Caspian subtly backed off. “Time enough for all of this, ” Kronos said expansively. “Shall we enter? ” He gestured grandly toward the facility.
Methos nodded to Duncan, who reached for Cassandra ’s arm.
She hadn ’t realized until Duncan touched her arm that she was pressing her back flush against the Jimmy ’s rear hatch. Cassandra felt her face get hot, ashamed that after two thousand years, the sight of the Horsemen still inspired such terror within her. Catching Methos ’ eye, she flashed him a black look for his deception, but received only an opaque gaze in return as he hung back to bring up the rear of their team.
Allowing Duncan to guide her toward the building, she heard Kronos ’ voice in her ear as he leaned in suddenly. “We ’ll have a nice chat later. ” Cassandra barely suppressed a shudder and hurried her pace. Her breathing was coming in short gasps, and she closed her eyes, trying to find a calm place within herself to which to retreat. Her nerve was rapidly failing her.
Sensing her burgeoning panic, Duncan sought to offer support by putting his hand on her shoulder. Because she wanted nothing more than to wrap herself in the protective comfort of his strength, she jerked away from his hand and hurried toward the door.
While finding it difficult to turn his back on Kronos, Methos nevertheless betrayed no discomfort as he followed his team through the door. Soon all six immortals had entered the facility which the boldly colored sign outside proclaimed to be “Laserocity. ”
The perky brown-haired girl Methos had dealt with several times in the past week greeted each of them brightly as they entered and helped them navigate the state-of-the-art metal detector he ’d ordered. MacLeod and Cassandra went through without incident, and after placing his car keys into the little tray, so did Methos. Returning his keys, the perky girl skipped eye contact entirely. Odd, given the rather aggressive flirting she ’d done with him on every previous encounter.
The old immortal tensed when Kronos excused himself and went back outside, returning less than two minutes later, but he, too, sailed through the security screen without offense.
Within five or six minutes of entering Laserocity, both teams had cleared security and were ushered into the “briefing room ” to receive the rules and instructions for the game, Methos ’ nerves singing like the strings of a violin tuned much too high. The Horsemen had assembled along a wall without a bench, Kronos leaning against the wall with his arms folded and wearing a palpable air of command. Silas and Caspian together constituted a coiled spring, awaiting his release of the safety mechanism to leap into action.
Team Methos, on the other hand, placed itself in a corner far from its competition, Cassandra hugging herself on the bench, Duncan standing at her side trying not to look concerned. The team captain himself chose a spot on the bench a couple of feet from Cassandra, but adopted a nonchalant slouching posture. He almost looked bored to death.
“Hi, I ’m Ken, ” said the gangly staffer who bustled into the room. “Welcome to Laserocity. How many of you have played laser tag before? ” Ken looked around at each of them, clearing expecting a show of hands.
“None, ” Methos sighed before the silence grew menacing.
“Okay, ” Ken breezed on. “Well, basically, you ’ll have two teams. Each team has a base to defend. The playing field has numerous obstacles and shelters to hide behind or get trapped in. The bases are cone-shaped structures hanging from the ceiling and have a sensor on the bottom. You shoot this sensor from directly under it six consecutive times to disable it. Disable your opponents ’ base three times and you win.
“Each of you will be issued a vest with a power pack and sensors on the chest, back, and shoulders. ” Ken touched each of these areas on himself as he spoke. “Your weapon is attached to the vest by a short cable. A direct hit to the chest or back will disable your weapon for six seconds; shots to the shoulder kill it for three seconds.
"If a player is activated, the lights on the sensors will be steady; if he ’s disabled, they ’ll flash. No need to shoot at someone who ’s disabled – the sensors are only active when the weapon is active. Try not to disable your own teammates. You can tell yours from your opponents by the color of lights. One team will be yellow, the other one ’s red.
“Rules of conduct are basically, no running, no climbing onto the obstacles, no jumping from the catwalk, and no competitive physical contact with other players. Let your weapon do all the attacking. Any questions? ”
“Will the game be supervised? ” Having written the game plan himself, Methos already knew the answer; he simply wanted the information to be out on the table for all participants to see.
“Yes, ” said Ken, looking away quickly. “There are cameras covering the whole playing field, and the action will be monitored by several people in the control room. Any conduct violations will be acknowledged over the intercom. Three violations will disqualify the offending team. ” Ken scanned the somber faces of the group, avoiding Methos ’ eyes. The old man felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up slightly.
“Well, I guess that ’s it. Let ’s get you all suited up and start the game. ”
Ken herded his six charges into a room containing several racks of laser tag vests. Silently, they all shrugged on the cumbersome vests and buckled the straps. Methos still cultivated his air of disinterest, Cassandra still looked small and vulnerable, and Duncan glowered like a warrior being asked to settle a serious dispute via tiddlywinks. On the other side of the room, Ken was struggling to locate a vest that could accommodate Silas ’ girth. Caspian leered at Cassandra constantly, while Kronos kept his annoying half-smile aimed at his prodigal brother, who studiously ignored him.
Just as Methos was about to ask Ken about the irritating low-frequency hum he kept hearing, he realized it was the sound of his own anxiety resonating in his head. For the first time, he questioned his plan and the wisdom of going through with the contest. Beads of sweat formed all over his forehead, and he suddenly knew that things were about to go very, very wrong.
“Okay, ” Ken said, clapping his hands together. “We ’re ready to go. ”
Silently, they all filed into the playing field.