Chapter Two
Joe Dawson went back to his computer and brought up the information again. He sat down and read more on Elizabeth Windsor but still had so many questions. When did she become an immortal?
Duncan MacLeod returned a half an hour later with a hot lunch. Joe was there at the back door letting him in and he looked outside before shutting it saying, "It looks like a long rain." He commented before going over to sit down at the table.
Mac sat down as well and unpacked the meal opening up the containers of Potato soup seasoned with leeks and a vegetable salad for himself. For Joe, a steak sandwich, his favorite. As they ate, they swapped old stories.
Joe talked about his early life growing up. Not wanting to say he had heard it before, Duncan listened politely.
"I was just this kid growing up in Saint Louis and always hearing the vendors in my neighborhood as they called out; "Straaawberries" their voice made it sound just like a song."
As if on cue, Mac grinned while eating the best part of his salad with slow even bites and savoring the rich flavors.
Reminiscing further Joe said, "In those early days I heard the Blues on the streets near where I lived and started playing with school friends." He gave a chuckle, "Yeah we played until our fingers hurt."
Of all his talents Joe always wondered why Mac never learned to play an instrument but maybe it was just not his talent.
Then Joe said quietly, "I couldn't go a day without it Mac. Music is everything to me."
Then drinking the last of the soup Joe felt its warmth flow into him chasing out the cold as the rain pounded the windows.
The two friends reminisced for a while and Duncan recited to Joe reports on the past eight months in Africa and why he wanted to be alone.
As the afternoon lengthened, Joe went to the bar and poured two drinks of the Scotch Malt liquor Mac favored.
"That encounter with Ahriman somehow changed me." Mac confided to his closest mortal friend. "I've tried to understand it and even accept what happened to me."
He sat down with the tray and asked, "What exactly do you mean?"
"Joe, do I seem different?" he asked folding his large hands around the small glass.
Thinking for a moment before he answered Joe said, "Yes different in that you're quieter and brooding and not so quick to laugh or joke around."
MacLeod agreed, "I know that, but I feel different…physically. Sometimes I almost feel mortal again."
Then he confided to his watcher saying, "Keep this out of your report but I had a wound from a fight and it took a long time to heal."
Joe looked concerned and asked, "How long did it take?"
Mac answered, "All day." He went on to say, "I have strange dreams where I'm still trying to defeat that demon but the ending is always different. Then I wake up in a sweat and remember that he's gone."
"Do you still feel responsible for Richie's death?" asked Dawson knowing the answer.
Nodding slowly Mac looked into his glass. In a faraway voice he answered, "At times it comes back like it was yesterday." He filled it again with Scotch.
Joe thought of the obvious, "What about holy ground?"
Mac answered tiredly, "No it doesn't work. The dreams still haunt me there."
"Will you tell me if those dreams become too real or they don't go away?" asked Joe checking his watch for the time.
MacLeod nodded and then asked, "What has Methos been up to?"
"He was staying in Greece writing his chronicles again." Dawson revealed, "Now it seems he has taken on some important mission. He called me a few days ago and wanted to see me."
"See you about what?" he asked showing concern.
"I don't know," Joe replied, "But he hasn't taken a head since Morgan Walker."
Then Joe nodded in Mac's direction saying, "I know you're not that quick to take a life. I see that you still don't have your sword at all times," he remarked looking at the short jacket Duncan wore.
"I know it but don't lecture me anyway," he said feeling defensive.
Both men sat in silence while finishing their drinks. They were each thinking of times past when in mortal years that time was not very long ago.
Outside the rain had been pouring down for some time without sign of letting up. MacLeod rubbed his eyes and stretched, not wanting to go outside in the rain right now. The Bar was warm and inviting.
He then inquired, "Joe, any chance I could sleep on that couch in the back room?"
"For you anytime," he replied standing up with effort.
Helping him up Mac said, "Thanks I'll see you in a few hours."
Going to the back room, he closed the door against the noise from the bar as people were just arriving. The rain continued as everyone watched from inside the warm environment.
Intending to take a short nap, he took out the picture to ponder the features. In the dim light from the window, he studied the two happy faces feeling a twinge of jealousy.
Later that night…
Joe listened to talk of the museum opening while he served drinks and watched the empty tables fill up fast.
The Indigo Band played exceptional that night making the listeners dances with the music.
As Duncan slept, he tossed and turned on the couch as dreams came and went in quick succession, except one dream.
It started as whispers then became clearer, "Duncan MacLeod is a coward that kills his friends. How many people have you beheaded just to exact your brand of justice?"
He shouted back, "NO! It wasn't like that."
The voice came at him again louder, "Prediction Highlander, before this year is done you will kill another friend.
Horton's image appeared before him dressed in all black with a red rose in the lapel. He continued taunting him, "You're a selfish bastard and I dare you to kill me Duncan MacLeod. I still control your destiny."
Horton waved his hand causing Mac to accompany him to a place of judgment. It resembled a hell like none he could imagine.
The scene became a rocky pit with smoke and fire around the battleground, next Horton summoned previous battles that now expanded becoming surreal taking on a distorted form. They were Immortals that deserved execution in Duncan's eyes.
All paraded by him taunting their death. They were all there; Nefertiri, Grayson, Piton, Sendaro, Caleb, Cahill, Jim Coltec, Michael Kent, Voshin, Paul Karros, Axel Whittaker, Lucas Kagan, Kalas, Ingrid Henning, Kronos, Otavio Consone, Liam O'Rourke and the faces kept coming as he lost count.
Richie Ryan appeared last before Duncan with his face looking twisted and sinister. He said, "Mac, I never thought you would kill me! Why did you do it? I can't believe how dumb I was to trust you!"
MacLeod cried out, "You were my friend! I loved you like a brother!"
Beth appeared briefly with accusing eyes. She stood before him saying nothing.
He reached out trying to explain to her, "Elizabeth you have to believe me. I didn't kill him to gain his power." She slowly shook her head as Horton looked on laughing.
At that moment, something gripped his shoulder and shook him hard. He started to turn and hit whatever was there.
Shaking him, Joe finally awakened the highlander peering at his face saying, "Hey Mac, stop yelling. The customers are asking who I have locked up back here."
He sat up with a startled expression. Still holding the picture he asked, "What time is it?" Rubbing his eyes, he looked around still shaken by the nightmare.
"It's after midnight and the rain has stopped." Joe answered. Looking concerned he inquired, "Are you all right?"
Waving off the question Mac got to his feet. "I'm all right now. All I need is some fresh air." The music that blared as he opened the door made him pause.
Joe spoke up, "Mac wait here's the address for you. Amy is staying outside Paris."
Putting both the paper and picture in his pocket he said, "Thanks for the use of the couch. I'll see you tomorrow."
Weaving his way to the back door of the bar, Mac opened it, slipped quickly away and shut it after him.
Outside the cold air made him zip up his jacket. He looked at the stars noting the clouds were gone.
He asked himself, "How many times have I navigated by those stars?"
Stuffing his hands into his pockets and walking fast his reflections kept time with his footsteps.
Turning down the alley for a shortcut, he was too preoccupied to keep his senses alert. He did not feel the immortal nearby until it was almost too late.
Only his reflexes saved him as a sword came slashing past his head. Duncan dropped to one knee feeling the air as the sword swished by.
"I am Kilgore." The opponent said in triumph while swinging his shining blade toward Duncan's neck.
The man facing him was medium build with black hair and a lopsided grin. He looked young, even for an immortal. His coat was white and showed his movements quite well in the faint light.
Standing up and backing away, he measured up this immortal and found him too green to be much of a threat.
Kilgore stated, "I challenge you and I'm going to have your head."
"Not exactly fair is it?" He asked looking for an opportunity to finish it quickly.
"I don't need fair just for you to die," said Kilgore moving closer ever threatening.
"I meant it wasn't fair for you." He answered as he glanced down the alley for any sort of weapon, candidly Duncan stated, "Don't think for a second I'll be an easy kill. Idiots like you are always after me."
Refusing to back away further, he stood his ground gesturing for his opponent to make the first move. Kilgore laughed loudly but the intimidation had the desired effect.
Circling around the alley and along the wall, Duncan spied a weapon.
Beginning his attack Kilgore began stabbing and slashing knowing he had the advantage of sword against skin and muscle. His grin widened with the false bravado he wore.
The fight was all one sided, but as he was dodging and ducking, Duncan picked up a thin metal rod against the wall in a puddle of rainwater.
"This will do," he said picking it up and holding it like sword.
Swinging the rod as it hissed through the air missing Kilgore by a fraction and making him retreat some giving ground to MacLeod.
Both men locked weapons and struggled for the upper hand. Duncan kicked as hard as he could underneath his guard pushing Kilgore back. With the wind knocked out of him he still came right back cutting through Duncan's sleeve into his arm.
Backing away, Duncan felt the blood trickle down his arm.
Kilgore smiled saying, "Oh did that hurt?"
Duncan felt another presence nearby but he did not divert his attention as
Kilgore came after him again swinging the sword with wide strokes.
Duncan blocked with the metal rod and He hit back repeatedly until Kilgore was against the wall.
Duncan was close enough to grab the hilt and wrapped his large hands over Kilgore's sword.
Pushing the attack aside while keeping his hold tight and yanking with all his strength, he was able to roll his opponent on the asphalt pulling the sword from his grasp.
He paused for a moment and looked around. He saw the silhouette of a woman near the entrance of the alley leaning against the wall watching the battle. Duncan turned back to Kilgore who had gotten up to face him.
He warned him, "I'm not taking your head this time so you better leave now and don't ever fight me again!" Pointing the sword towards his defeated foe, he noticed how cheap it was.
Kilgore sneered, "This is not the end." He gave his idle threat and glanced in the woman's direction before running off empty handed.
.
