XI – In the Cemetery.
New York City.
It was a sunny day. Inside the cemetery, Nick, Amy and the girl were standing solemnly in front of Joe Dawson's grave. He was dressed in suit and tie, while the girls wore black elegant dresses. Surprisingly, the youngest of them had not complained about wearing it, and had even agreed to bathe. Her blonde hair had been tied in a ponytail and Amy had even put some lipstick on her lips. Besides them, Doctor Anne Linsey bid her farewells to Joe as well. Silently, not saying a word to the others, completely detached from that party.
The girl looked away and noticed people coming. She tugged at Amy's sleeve and she turned. Duncan and Adam were approaching, each carrying a bunch of flowers in hands. Behind them, a boy and a woman. She thought the boy was the infamous Kenneth. But the woman she couldn't be certain of who she was.
She glimpsed at Nick, who seemed suddenly angry at something. He had produced a pistol. How dare he brought such device to the burial of his... father?!
"Nick?"
"That bitch..." he cursed as he loaded the weapon.
The arrived were by them. Methos stepped ahead. Nick tried to pull him out of the way to have a clean shot but the immortal clenched his wrist and made it twist. The gun fell meekly as Nick squirmed in pain.
"Well, well, I know you, don't you?" Alex queried.
"You do, you goddamn fucking whore!" Nick replied.
"What's going on here?" Duncan asked casually.
"I took his wife's head." Alex blurted out. "I didn't want to fight, but she insisted."
Duncan chose to pay no heed to them and approached Amy, who stared reluctantly at him.
"I'm sorry." He offered the roses. She beamed shyly and looked away, tears running to her eyes. He gazed at the girl. "Hello, bonnie." She smiled and blushed.
Methos released Nick and let him cool off.
"This is neither the time nor the place. We are here to pay our respects."
Kenny waved at Anne. She smirked back, to which he didn't seem surprised. He had not been nice to her in the past. He glanced at the grave of the old bearded man. Kenny remembered him.
"You couldn't find him, could you?"
Methos stared down at Amy's question. He shook his head. Then they all felt it. One by one, the immortals felt their heads spin sickeningly upon the presence of other immortals. But they were not common. They all knew it, but they could not be certain of how.
They turned. Treading down the green path, neatly dressed in a brown polo tee shirt and black trousers, wielding in his hands a large broadsword, Nicholas Wolfe nonchalantly moved slowly towards them, his arm clung to the beauty and sexiness of his favourite mistress, whose hips waved indecorously and whose face was made up goth-like.
Duncan drew out his katana and moved past the others. Behind him, Alex and Methos produced their own weapons. The mortals and Kenny were left behind. Nicholas halted at a point and whispered something to his mistress, who halted there, to then approach the immortals.
"Duncan MacLeod!" Nicholas smiled at Duncan as one would at an old acquaintance. "I had the feeling I would find some of them here, but not you!" Duncan sneered back. "Tell me, Highlander. Where have you been? Buried underground perhaps, mourning the death of the kid..." Nicholas looked to the sky, his thumb and index forming a V by his chin, as if he were thinking. "Which was his name?"
"Richie." Duncan replied furiously.
"Ah, Richie." Nicholas' hand opened wide. "He was a nice kid... I bet you enjoyed the Quickening."
The katana spun in Duncan's hands before the Highlander sent a flurry of blows towards Nicholas. Ahriman's dwelling dodged them easily before retreating to take distance.
"Duncan..." Nicholas lowered his guard as he teased nonchalantly. "You really want to embarrass yourself before your friends?" Then he struck a blow that Duncan blocked at his waist, but whose strength sent him backwards. "What would the lovely Dr. Linsey would say if she saw you defeated? Or my former host?"
"Cut the crap, Ahriman." Methos stepped forward, unfolding his weapon.
"Nah, Methos... oops, did I mention your true name?" Nicholas feigned repentance with a broad smile. Above them, the sky began to cloud.
Duncan attacked again. Nicholas blocked once and again, easily moving till he seemed to grow bored. He feigned a counterattack to which Duncan reacted. Then, with the Highlander's guard elsewhere, he slit viciously his belly. Duncan fell defeated.
"You... can't..." Duncan gasped.
"Holy ground? My ass!" Nicholas grunted as his arms began to arch upward to deliver the deathblow.
The squawk of a crow deafened them all. Thunder sounded preternaturally. A dim whistle followed, becoming louder and louder. Behind Nicholas, a black shape appeared, approaching faster than a cannonball, something large and narrow glistening in it. Nicholas raised his sword to parry the downward chop against his head and the black shape arched its body to curb itself as it passed by. It was a longhaired man, who sneered at Ahriman's host, with his right arm above his head and his left aimed at Nicholas.
"I know this guy." Kenny called out. "He was there with me!"
Duncan leapt aside and observed the newcomer. His chin quivered and his breath shortened. He thought he knew that man, but his face was shielded by the abundant hair that man had.
"Hello, Ahriman."
The preternatural voice spoke from behind them all. The blonde with short hair moved past Joe's grave, the mortals and Kenny. She looked down at Alex and held Methos' gaze as she passed. The crow she carried on her left shoulder eyed them all fatally.
"Rose, what are you doing here?" Methos queried.
The woman turned, her body covered with black tight leathers. She smiled seductively at him, with a certain fondness that could not be overlooked.
"I am going to defeat him." The voice was charming if determined.
"Last time it cost you dearly." Nicholas commented acidly. "Have you forgotten that already, Roxheanna?"
"It was a long time ago, Ahriman." Rose replied with a weird confident smile.
She smiled at the one who had saved Duncan. He charged forward. His movements were fast and neat, full of elegance and efficacy. Yet they were still not enough. Nicholas easily dodged most of them, and deflected off the rest.
Then he went forward. To his surprise, the stranger parried his blows, not without trouble. But he still did. Up, down, right, left. He was a fast croak. Who was he?
He landed a massive chop against the other's blade and the other countered with a slash aimed at Nicholas' shoulder, failed by narrow margin. Ahriman slumped forward and lashed with superhuman strength at the other, who opposed his blade, which flew off his gloved hands, darting elsewhere.
A cry was heard and everybody turned. Even Nicholas seemed to forget the fight. Anne lay on the floor with the katana stuck in her chest. She breathed with agitation as Methos and Alex rushed to help her. Nicholas burst into harsh laughter. Rose glanced at him disapprovingly before staring detachedly at the funeral party.
"OK, I'll let you take care of the nice Dr. Linsey." He cried aloud.
With those words, as if it was only a friendly football game, Nicholas paced away. He went past his mistress. Her face was teary and fraught with repugnance. Not understanding why (and not caring either), he grasped her rudely and rubbed her buttocks obscenely as they walked away.
Methos left Anne in hands of Nick, who had apparently inherited some medical knowledge from his late wife, and stood near Rose, measuring her up. She gazed at him.
"He can't be defeated like this." He complained. "This time it's different."
"We simply missed our chance." She said simply after some moments. "We're leaving."
Rose turned away. Her companion rose and started to follow, leaving his sword behind. He went past Methos without paying any heed to him. Methos turned to watch him leave. Then he went to help Duncan to his feet. The Highlander had frozen after seeing Anne wounded.
"Will she be OK?" he pleaded with his eyes for an affirmative reply.
Methos turned back despondently. Alex had brought Amy's car, a Ford Falcon from the 1980's that Nick had tinkered till it worked, and the three of them were placing Anne in the backseat. Kenny looked scared after what had been. Methos' eyes posed on the girl. She looked calm after all that had been undergone. Extremely calm. She noticed him and grinned. He exerted himself the most to reply likewise, though he wondered what sort of creature could be so calm after such a moment.
His eyes flew to his own right hand, where he held the katana he had withdrawn from Anne. Rose had somehow gained a very powerful ally. How that man had become so submissively hers was yet to be known. But they would have to resurrect the man within him. He was a crucial element if they were to win.
That sword had belonged to a friend of his, who had mentored Rose's pawn. If Rose had him, that meant she had perfected her inherent special abilities. To overcome them, Methos would have to resort to someone who wanted him dead. And that would still not be enough. He observed the delicate ornate of the hilt and grinned at the irony of it. The pawn would need to be as strong and wilful as the very animal carved in the grip: a tiger. Or hope would fade away as he had...
