Chapter 39
The few days before Halloween were busy for Cassandra and Gerald. Having finally tracked down all the information she felt she needed, Cassandra had taken one last trip to Glenfinnan for old time's sake. The days when she had been the Witch of Donan Woods might have been long gone but she had some fond memories of that time, not the least of which was her first meeting with Duncan MacLeod.
She was troubled by the knowledge that the man she knew, as kind and courteous to a fault, should have been, so far, instrumental in preventing her from dealing out vengeance against Methos. Despite his pleading for Methos' life in Bordeaux, and her acquiescence to that request, try as she might she had been unable to reach a state of ease in her mind about the former horseman. She could not understand how Duncan had been able to do so either.
She knew that even Gerald, who undoubtedly loved her, felt at a loss to understand the level of hostility she felt towards a man she'd had no dealings with for upwards of three thousand years. She knew that many people would view her actions, her need for revenge, for closure, as obsessive. Indeed, she knew that she was obsessed with changing the power dynamic in her dealings with a man who had, so far as she was concerned, destroyed the life she had led and left her with no frame of reference to continue living in any way she understood. In her view though, the obsession was neither displaced, nor disproportionate.
When she had first escaped from the Horseman's Camp, she had thought that gaining her freedom was the sweetest thing. During the following few months, however, she had come to the conclusion that companionship and the unwary offer of a welcome were equal to, if not perhaps preferable to, freedom on its own.
She had gone from being a renowned member of a tribe, someone with a status and a role of import, to a mere chattel - and thence to being a permanent outsider wherever she roamed. someone whom people trusted only slightly or mistrusted on sight because she was a stranger. She had only her knowledge of the healing arts to save her from the ever present threat of further enslavement or prostitution.
Robbing her of her family, friends and lifestyle was not the only sin she laid at the door of the Horsemen though. They had left her ignorant of her immortality. It had taken many wanderings and nearly twenty years for her to learn the truth. Fortunately for her, the means of her discovery had been benign. She had met Rebecca, as Amanda would do many years later, and became her student. Those years had been almost tranquil by contrast to the ones she had endured after the Horsemen ravaged her village.
She was still searching for her niche in the world. For a long time putting an end to the Horsemen was the role she had taken to herself, but even she knew that was no substitute for a life, and after she had dealt with Methos she would still need to address that dilemma. 'Three thousand years on and I'm still trying to decide what I want to be when I grow up.' She mused to herself. as she and Gerald waited for the call to board their flight to New York.
Her researching had led her to understand that whatever else may befall, whatever the outcome of her campaign, she would need to return to Seacouver. It seemed that it was fated that she would have a further tussle with the MacLeod woman either before, during, or after her final showdown with Methos. Since she knew he was returning for Halloween she had determined that she also must return to 'Immortal Grand Central' as some had lately dubbed it.
If she was concerned about clashing again with Duncan or Catriona, she showed no sign of it. Indeed she appeared to be flushed with excitement to Gerald's eyes. He was pleased to see her looking less stressed than she had of late, even if he feared that the general air of well-being was prompted by, what he considered a less than healthy focus on, the need to cause considerable suffering to another. He loved her dearly, fiercely independent as she was he felt that she was becoming more enamoured of him too. She may not harbour such strong feelings in her heart for him as he did for her, but she had grown warmer and less reserved in his company during the past few years and he had hopes of a more noticeable thaw in the future once she had dealt with Methos to her own satisfaction. With these things in mind he held his council where her plans were concerned.
As their flight was called both immortals rose as one, and hand in hand the went forward to meet with whatever fate held in store for them without either a hint of fear or trepidation.
The preparations for the private party at Joe's Bar were in full swing. Duncan. Joe and Connor had taken great delight in showing Catriona how to prepare real American Halloween Decorations for her rooms. The comparison between the faintly childish festival indulged in here and the more serious Samhain observations she was used to helped her to form a very entertaining lecture for her students. Their preoccupation with the Halloween candy and cookies amused her. The confusion some of them showed concerning the origins of the holiday and their delight at uncovering some of the old customs was a great fillip to her. She was enjoying her time here and revelled in her sense of belonging somewhere for the first time since her mother had died. A deep sense of contentment had almost totally encompassed her, but she was also aware of an underlying tension for which she could not, as yet, find any cause. She resolved to keep a weather-eye open for trouble, and in the meantime allowed herself to enjoy the holiday atmosphere being created around her.
This was given added appeal by the fact that they were also preparing for Methos' birthday. Prompted by Methos' quip about candles, they had decided that there should at least be a cake. Catriona had obliged by making a traditional British celebration cake, a rich fruit cake with dried vine fruits, whisky and dark muscovado sugar and spices. This she had then covered in marzipan and, after that had dried, royal icing. Once that too was dry she had piped a three layered honeycomb pattern around the edge of the cake and the word 'Adam' in the centre.
Joe had watched these preparations in amazement. He was used to the more traditional American frosting, which Catriona had told him was called 'butter icing' in Britain, and to sponge cake - though he had to admit that this cake looked and smelled pretty darned good.
Eventually all they needed to complete their work was the errant oldest immortal himself. Joe had received an email from him saying that he would be late, but that he should arrive at the bar shortly after 10 pm - he also said he was looking forward to seeing them all again, and warned of dire consequences if anyone so much as waved a candle in his direction.
Joe had persuaded Catriona to join him in a couple of sets at the bar party, which would take place earlier in the evening, all she needed now was a costume - and she was totally stumped. Duncan came to her rescue by suggesting that she should wear the outfit she had worn at the first faculty meeting together with a leather belt, a small green pixie type hat she had bought at Wal*Mart and a staff that Duncan had lent her she became 'Maid Marion'.
She had to chuckle at that appellation. It had been many years since she had been a maid. Still, if the stories about Maid Marion and Robin Hood's relationship were to be believed, then perhaps the name 'maid' had been a pun invented by her friends or a taunt created by her enemies, always supposing that such a person had existed of course.
Connor and Duncan both turned up in full Highland dress, whilst Joe opted for 'Ironside' - a persona which required him to do nothing with his external appearance. This had the advantage that he could relax a little but did mean he spent the evening in the hated wheel-chair, though he still wore his legs.
The bar was packed with revellers during the early evening, and the two sets Joe and Catriona performed were well received, her mostly alto range voice complimenting Joe's tenor perfectly. By 9.30 the crowd began to thin, and by 10 pm everyone but the four of them was gone. They sat drinking and chatting and waiting for the guest of honour to arrive. Duncan and Connor amusing everyone with tales of Halloween celebrations from their past.
By 10.15 pm an air of expectation had settled over the company. Connor, realising he had left some gifts for Adam in the car excused himself and went to fetch them. As he reached the car he felt the familiar wash of presence from another immortal. Grinning, he moved into the open so that his old friend would recognise him, and not fear a challenge. As he moved into the light he saw the lanky form of the eldest immortal moving with feline grace towards 'Joe's'.
As he raised one arm in greeting and prepared to call out, however, he felt the tug at his consciousness of two more immortals. Knowing that neither of them was Duncan, since the background awareness of his cousin's buzz had been constant all evening, he cautiously moved to use the nearest car as cover, and drew his sword. He held the katana ready, but carefully concealed behind the folds of his plaid and tried to locate the direction from which the other two unknown immortals were approaching. Before he was able to pinpoint it, however, he was momentarily blinded by twin beams of light and the roar of an engine drowned out the clamouring signal in his head.
He watched in horror as Methos, turning to see where the distraction was coming from, moved forwards into the light - rather than away from it as he would have expected. - and was struck, full-force, by the fast moving car. Methos' body hit the windscreen head-first with a heavy and audible thump. Then, seemingly twisted by the force of impact, he somersaulted forwards up onto the roof of the car, landing on his back and then crashing his head into the trunk before finally coming to rest in a crumpled heap on the ground.
Almost before Connor was aware of these events happening, the car reversed speedily over the recumbent body. The occupants of the car emerged and scooped up the unresponsive figure of Methos, stuffed him in the trunk and then paused, obviously aware of the presence of another immortal nearby. The shorter, slighter of the two figures, turned towards Connor and raised on arm in his direction. At the same time a shot rang out - echoing in the almost deserted parking lot. Stunned, Connor felt the bullet enter his shoulder. Before he could move or cry out, two more shots were fired and struck home, one in his chest and the other in his head. As the last echo died away Connor slumped onto the rain-wet cemented ground. Then the shooter climbed back into the car and sped off in the direction it had come with a squeal of tires and smell of burning rubber.
The whole event could not have taken more than a few seconds, since Duncan was on his feet, sword drawn and moving to the entrance, as soon as he felt the unfamiliar buzzes. He emerged into the night in time to see Connor fall and was barely able to make out the lights of the fast receding vehicle. Cursing, Duncan ran forward to the crumpled form of his cousin who was lying, unmoving, in a puddle.
Kneeling, he felt for a pulse - finding none, he slung Connor over his shoulder and returned to the bar to await his 'resurrection'. It was an anxious wait the three of them faced as Connor lay immobile on the couch in Joe's back office. No-one felt inclined to speak and the atmosphere grew more tense over the nearly fifteen minutes it took for Connor to revive.
When Connor was able to speak again his news was the worst.
End of chapter 39
Many thanks for the kind words you have sent regarding this story. I am always thrilled to hear from readers.
Feedback is welcomed at any time sharonmarais@sam27.demon.co.uk