Brian Maxey pulled into the parking lot of the Hide-A-Way Hotel. The establishment lived up to its name. Few incidental travelers knew of its existence as it was off the beaten path. Just the kind of place he wanted.
He wondered how long it would be before one very irritating ATF agent showed up on his door step. Greig was like a dog with a bone when she thought she was on to something. He'd rarely been that bone, but he had a feeling that a battle was coming between the two of them. He didn't want to fight with the woman, but he couldn't shake the idea that Peter Caine knew more than he was telling. He needed to know what that something was.
Reaching into the backseat of the vehicle, he retrieved his laptop. There was some investigating of a certain "Griffin" he wanted to do before he bowed to human weakness and tried to get some sleep. There was something about the man that bothered him.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Kwai Chang Caine was just settling into a light meditation when he caught a vague sense of confusion from Peter. His initial instinct was to delve deeper and focus in on the feeling, but he stopped himself. Peter had earned the right to become Shaolin, and the young man valued his privacy. He deserved to be treated as an equal, as the adult that he had become.
While Caine battled against his fatherly instincts, another sensation from Peter caught him. No more confusion, but growing fear and then abject horror. Even if Caine wanted to keep his distance, he could not. He was dragged along into the maelstrom of his son's emotions.
**Caine found himself standing in a desert. Vicious winds whipped the sands into a stinging frenzy. The grains beat at him, delivering tiny stings to his cheeks and hands as he attempted to shield his eyes. Struggling to stand against the wind, he focused on the form that stood several yards in front of him, seemingly unaffected by the storm.
"Peter!" He called to his son, but Peter's attention was captured by an image that appeared to be super-imposed on the air in front of him. It was the image of a scene being played out before a beige brick building in the city.
Haunching his shoulders, Caine tried to move forward, to come to his son's aid. But the winds pushed at him and the intensity of the sand storm increased. Yet his distance from Peter remained the same. And Peter seemed oblivious to his presence.
It didn't matter. Caine knew what was to come. This had been his dream before it was Peter's.
The sound of Peter's voice rose above the howl of the wind. "No!"
Peter attempted to run toward the unfolding scene. "Stop it! This isn't true! It isn't real! I'm not ready!"
The explosion rocked the building with astonishing force. The blast moved beyond the image and entered into the desert, ramming into Peter, knocking him off his feet. Caine felt the hot edges of the blast just before everything went frighteningly cold, dark and still. **
Caine's eyes flew open as he gasped in air. Clenching his fists, he struggled to regain his center. It was several shaken moments before he could reach out for Peter. Using the faintest touch, he learned that Peter was awake and moving about his apartment. He imagined that he was splashing water on his face in an effort to clear the remnants of the nightmare. But he knew, water would not be enough. It would not be enough for Peter, and it would not be enough for himself.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
"Pop! You here?" Peter called by way of announcement as he took the steps two at a time up to his father's apartment. It was early, but he knew that his father was up. He could feel his presence as clearly as if he was standing before him. Narrowing down the precise room would take concentration.
"I am here." Caine's voice sounded from the balcony, making it unnecessary for Peter to have to go in search of him.
Peter walked across the room and through the French doors to join his father.
"You are not driving your vehicle?"
"How did you--? Never mind. Long story. Caroline's letting me use her Jeep for a few days. "
"Ah." Caine nodded and continued to prune at one of the many vines growing along the wall. "She and her child are well?"
"Yeah. They're great." Peter watched him for several moments, trying to figure how to put conflicting thoughts into words. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it.
"If you ask, Peter, I will answer as best I can."
Peter let out a short laugh and shook his head. "Almost forgot who I was dealing with."
Caine did not reply, but simply continued to prune. Peter began to wonder if something was bothering his father. He hadn't looked in his direction since he arrived. Frowning he placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You okay?"
Caine continued to pluck leaves from the vine. "I am fine, Peter."
"Then why won't you turn around and look at me when I'm talking to you?" Peter asked, a touch of exasperation creeping into his voice.
Caine placed the pruned leaves into a clay bowl with deliberate care then turned to face him. "It was not my intention to offend you, my son."
"I'm not offended, Pop," Peter said, staring into his eyes, attempting to gauge his emotions. But Caine was closed to him. Peter got nothing beyond what he could see. Frowning more deeply he turned away in confusion.
"There's something going on here," he said upon turning back. "There's something bothering you and you're hiding it from me."
"It is not my wish to hide anything from you," Caine said in quiet measured tones.
"But you're going to do it anyway?" Peter shot back.
Caine sighed. "A father should not burden a son with his fears."
"Why not?" Peter asked. "I can't think of anything I haven't burdened you with. I'm always leaning on you. It's okay if you want to lean on me sometimes."
"It is the function of a father to provide support."
Peter ran a hand through his hair. "You are so stubborn. I guess I got it honest. And beating my head against this brick wall isn't going to get me anywhere. You won't talk to me, talk to the Ancient. I gotta go."
"Peter." Caine's hand on his arm stopped him from heading back into the apartment. "There was something you wanted to ask me?"
Peter looked at him a long moment before simply blurting the question out. "Does a Shaolin know the moment that he is going to die?"
Caine's eyes widened, and Peter thought that he saw a flash of fear shoot through them before the older man averted his gaze. When Caine would have moved away, Peter reached for his arm.
"Why do you ask this?" Caine did not look up.
Peter debated telling his father about the dream he'd had the night before then decided against it. "I was just wondering," he said, releasing his arm. When Caine's eyes rose to meet his, it was Peter that looked away.
"There are some," Caine admitted.
"Are you one of them?" Peter wanted to know.
"I know that I will die under starry skies on an Autumn night. I do not know the circumstances. I do not know the date or the hour."
Peter felt an odd pain settle in the pit of his stomach at his father's words. Pain and fear. Half a dozen questions demanded answers, but he was only able to voice one. "How do you know?"
Caine met his gaze. "I know."
The odd pain in Peter's stomach rose to encompass his chest. It was difficult to force air in and out of his lungs. "I. . . I gotta go." He turned and all but ran from his father's apartment.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
He let the people flow around him as he moved steadily through the parking lot. Few gave him a second glance as he fingered the white slip of paper inside his jacket pocket. Gloved fingers dulled the sensation, but that was a necessary precaution. It was not yet time to tip his hand. But all was in motion, and the symmetry was flawless. The wrinkle, he decided, was merely an anomalous blip that could not affect his plan. His plan would go on. It would all be over soon.
Spotting his target, he carefully lifted the edge of the wiper blade and slid the paper underneath. Milling pedestrians never noticed a thing. Sometimes being genetically unremarkable could be used to advantage.
