10

A Farewell to the King, part 3

Even at three a.m., the casino was still filled with gamblers.

Vrej slowly made his way through the crowd, outwardly smiling and acknowledging the grins and handshakes of those he passed. It was his job, after all, to make the patrons of the casino believe they had met Elvis. Inwardly, he was focused on finding that slithering immortal presence that was both here and yet not here.

"He must be able to mask himself, somehow," Vrej muttered under his breath. What he did sense of the other was old and dark, as he'd mentioned to MacLeod. For some reason, Vrej could feel sand gritting in his teeth and the pungent odor of exotic spices wafted on the air. Then just as suddenly... it changed and it was the sickly sweet smell of flowers rotting. He shuddered. Beneath his cape he fingered his jeweled rapier and swallowed nervously. Maybe he should have asked MacLeod to join him down here.

Vrej chuckled at that. Here the Highlander finally marries a woman and his old friend then asks him to leave his bride behind to help with a simple challenge? No... Vrej reasoned. This challenge was to me. And I will face it this time.

His thoughts floated over the last time he and Duncan MacLeod had spent time together.

Tupelo, Mississippi, 1947

Vrej Ratavoussian fingered the chords of the guitar and strummed along with the jamming blues musicians. Although spring was in the air, the warmth from the crackling campfire around which they were playing was a welcome comfort.

At times like this... Vrej felt most at home. Oh... true... no one was speaking Russian... well... even he didn't speak it much anymore... and the faces of most of those playing were those dark-skinned faces of the descendants of African slaves... but still... music... a fire... friends... and camaraderie were what it was all about. In all his three hundred and fifty odd years... he'd never felt so at ease.

Even the tingling sense of an approaching immortal didn't alarm him. After all, he was with others... and the power of the blues, he felt, could melt the heart of even the most evil of immortals.

Looking up into the smirking face of Duncan MacLeod made Vrej shake his head as he continued to play. These guys were really good... and the whole idea of this session was to see if he could follow along and learn to improvise when they did so. Old Smoky stomped his foot to the beat to keep them all on time... while Tom Jenkins sang the words... something about lost love, a dog, and only one beer in the house. Vrej laughed to himself. He could relate to that.

The real surprise in this group was the twelve-year old blonde boy with the over-sized guitar trying to fit chords in around the rest of them. His momma had given it to him for his birthday, and while he we was still learning to chord and play... that boy had some real talent, Vrej thought.

Duncan leaned back against a nearby picnic table and watched with a grin as the group of musicians offered their gift of melody to the cool early spring air. When finally Tom's voice reached a particularly high note and held it ... Old Smoky slowed the persistent beat of his foot and all of them followed suit so that the music rose and slowed in a final grand crescendo and then stopped... followed by a moment of grand silence. Then the men laughed and backslapped one another.

The boy grinned. "You guys are great!"

Vrej leaned over to him with a wink. "Thank ya very much. Someday, you'll play the lead and we'll follow you."

The boy's eyes widened. "Ya really think so?" His infectious grin made all of them laugh.

"Git along home now boy, fore yore momma comes lookin' for ya to give ya a tannin'" Silas Martin said with a laugh and shooed the boy and his guitar home for the night.

As he left, Old Smoky passed the bottle in its brown paper sack. "That boy is gonna be a star some day."

Vrej took a swig and nodded. Passing the bottle on, he rose to settle down next to MacLeod. "Well met, my friend."

"Still playing music, I see. But where are all the women throwing themselves at you?"

Vrej laughed. "Oh... they're around. But tonight was about the music."

MacLeod chuckled, "You play that guitar as well as you ever played the balalaika."

"Strings are strings and music is music... and..."

Duncan slapped his back, "and Good music is Good music."

"You gonna talk man or you gonna play?" Tom said as the group began another piece. One by one they fell into the new riff and began to expand on it and work with it.

Vrej winked at Duncan. "My public awaits." He settled back down next to Silas and joined in.

Sometime later, the moon had set, and the two immortals had walked companionably along, laughing from the alcohol and the high spirits of the music. They'd left the other men behind at the crossroads as they'd turned to continue on into town.

"So what brings you to M-i-crooked letter, crooked letter..." began Vrej with a laugh.

Duncan chuckled and steadied his friend. "I was just passing through."

"Like I believe that," Vrej grunted. "Duncan MacLeod never goes anywhere or does anything without a reason."

Duncan nodded. "I'd heard that Oskar Tannenbaum was in the area."

"Oskar?" Vrej had snorted. "That sleaze-ball is around?" His normally pleasant face darkened as he ran his hand through his dark hair, currently cut in a fashionable ducktail. He raised his dark glasses to let them rest for a moment on his forehead. "I haven't seen him since Italy when he tried to seduce my then wife." Vrej grinned. "She gave him a quick kick where it hurt the most. She was a real-looker... and quite the fighter." Vrej had smiled at the memory of Caterina. Of all of his wives... she may well have been one of the feistiest.

"Yeah, he bothered the young daughter of a mortal friend. I thought I'd pay him a visit."

"Well I haven't seen him in a century, and I haven't felt anyone else around Tupelo... are you certain he's here?"

Duncan sighed. "I'm not certain of anything."

"Is your friend's daughter all right?" Vrej had asked then.

Duncan nodded. "She's fine. Thankfully the girl had enough sense to scream when he tried something. If I'd been there that day... he and I would have had it out then and there."

Vrej shook his head. "Some men don't know when to keep it in their pants. A lady should always be willing... and old enough to have a say in what occurs. I gave up virgins centuries ago. Too squeamish for me! I like a woman who knows how to please a man. Widows are always nice." Vrej winked at the Highlander. "Come home with me, my current wife cooks a hell of a breakfast."

Duncan laughed as headed toward the hotel. "Maybe I'll see you later."

Vrej had watched him go and then whistling, had turned down Third Street toward the small house he shared with his wife. A widow with no children, she was an excellent cook, and a truly loving companion. As he neared the white picket fence that surrounded his small yard, he'd felt another behind him. "MacLeod? Did you change your mind?"

"Not MacLeod, you stupid Russki!" hissed a dark voice and Oskar Tannenbaum stepped out of the darkness... his massive broadsword held before him. "I've waited a long time for this."

Vrej dropped his guitar case, kicking it out of his way as he drew his own broadsword from his long coat. He blinked away the lingering fog of his drinking and focused on the immortal before him. "Oskar... Still walking bent out of shape?" he teased.

The two immortals circled in the darkness. As the moon had long set... they had only starlight to see by. Somewhere down the street... a dog barked.

"I'm all yours," Vrej said between clenched teeth.

Oskar lunged... and sparks flashed as steel met steel. Again and again the two swung, blocked, parried and withdrew. Time around them had no meaning. It was therefore almost a surprise when Vrej heard a woman's voice call out.

"You two... there. What in tarnation do you two think you're doin'?"

The combatants froze and backed away from one another... all the time watching every move. Slowly both returned their swords to their coats.

"Another time, Russki," sneered Tannenbaum.

"That's Russian, you Prussian twit!" replied Vrej as he turned to collect his guitar case. "Sorry 'bout that Missus Presley," Vrej saluted his neighbor. "Didn't mean to cause no ruckus."

"Was that a sword he had?"

"Yep."

"And you?"

Vrej shrugged. "Nope... I was defendin' myself with a broomstick."

Mrs. Presley looked at him oddly. "You gonna call the sheriff or shall I?"

"Vrej laughed. "He's an actor friend of mine. I was just helpin' him practice for a scene he has in a play."

"Well you two are darned fools to be out there at this time of mornin'." She waved a hand and went back inside.

Vrej sighed. That had been a close call. He and Mamie might have to move. On the porch, the blonde-haired Presley boy stared at Vrej thoughtfully, then turned to follow his mother inside. Vrej wondered how much the boy had seen. After all, he had left the jam session earlier... and while he should have gone straight to bed... he likely hadn't. "Might have to have a talk with that boy someday," Vrej had murmured.

Later... he'd met MacLeod at the cafe for a light lunch. "Oskar challenged me last night," Vrej had begun as he forked up mashed potatoes.

"Then he is here," MacLeod had replied.

Vrej had nodded.

"So... is he..." MacLeod had leaned forward and whispered, "you know... dead?"

"I missed the opportunity. My neighbor lady saw us goin' at it."

MacLeod sat back and lifted his iced tea, swirling the deep brown liquid in the glass and watching the lemon slice move about atop the ice. "You have a wife here and a life. I'll deal with Tannenbaum."

"But the challenge was to me."

"Mine to him takes precedence, Vrej. Go home to your wife. Love her for as long as you can. I've no one these days. I'll deal with Tannenbaum."

Vrej was deeply moved by the Scot's offer. "Still... if he comes for me..."

"He won't have the chance," MacLeod said as he drank the last of the tea and set the glass down so sharply that the remaining ice had clinked against the glass. He'd risen and tossed a few bills on the table. "Catch you later."

Las Vegas

MacLeod had dealt with Tannenbaum. He'd looked a mite poorly afterward... and at Sunday dinner had eyed Vrej's wife with an appreciative look... but then the Highlander had shaken his head and the look... so reminiscent of Tannenbaum had vanished as if it had never been.

No, thought Vrej. This time it's me with no strings. I'll deal with the trash... you stay with your lady. He continued he methodical prowl through the casino. After the third circuit, the Elvis impersonator was ready to toss in the towel when he felt it again... that slithering evil that turned his stomach and made him feel as if he were in the presence of someone very, very old.

Vrej swallowed nervously and looked around... his eyes finally resting on the almost cadaverous man at one of the bars still open. The tall man, in boots with silver spurs, a long frock coat with red silk vest, and a black ten-gallon hat, lifted his head and grinned at the Elvis. He lifted two fingers to his hat brim... and saluted. Tossing back a shot of whiskey, the immortal headed for the casino door.

Vrej followed.

In the traffic circle, the stranger lifted a hand and gestured for a taxi. When it approached, he opened the back door and then looked at Vrej. "Floyd Lamb Park, one hour." Then he climbed into the taxi.

Vrej nodded as the taxi drove off. "I'll be there," he said. He had a feeling if he wasn't, this immortal would return here and MacLeod or his young friend might pay the ultimate price. Vrej sighed. He'd truly hate to leave this life.

As he and the other musicians had predicted... the young Elvis Aaron Presley had gone on to do great things with his music. He and his parents had left Tupelo the following year for Memphis. When he began to make a name for himself in the music business, Vrej had noticed how the boy's hair had darkened... and as the years had passed... had noted Elvis' passing resemblance to him. It was as if fate had given Vrej a new identity... one that would last forever. Now... this old and very dangerous immortal might put an end to that life... both here and now... and for all the time to come.

Vrej rubbed a hand over his neck. "Maybe I ought to have fought more and loved less the last few decades." He sighed as he headed for the parking deck... and his pink Cadillac, a gift from a certain young man who'd made good once upon a time, and headed for Floyd Lamb Park for his date with death.