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Seasons in Time, part 3
"Blast it!" James Horton snarled as he closed his cellphone.
"Problem?" Xavier remarked smoothly. Upon their return to Paris, he had tracked down one of his suppliers of golden caviar and was enjoying both the rare delicacy and Horton's evident ill humor.
"One of my people has vanished."
"Anyone I should know?"
Horton stared at the immortal, mentally thinking of him as minus a head rather than just a hand. Too bad he needed him for his little plan to destroy Duncan MacLeod to work. But as soon as MacLeod was dead… Xavier St. Cloud would follow him into hell. Horton smiled thinly. "I doubt it. Do you know Marcus Constantine?"
Xavier pondered the name. "Not really in the game anymore although he was said to be quite the warrior in his day. Not one I'd want to take on without a little help. Why?"
"I had one of my best people on him. Since he's not an active player… I had hopes last year of taking him out after I dealt Darius a killing blow. MacLeod saw that those plans were put on hold.
"About Darius?" Xavier asked. "You've never said conclusively if you killed him."
Horton chuckled. It was good to know something that Xavier didn't. Besides… he still wanted to be the one that finally destroyed that thing that had masqueraded as a priest. He had no plans to allow Xavier to have him. Of course he had to find him first. "He's gone isn't he? And MacLeod believes I did."
"Well… Darius was always such a strange immortal," Xavier murmured as he relished another taste of the caviar, recalling the first time he'd ever met the man.
Paris 1230:Xavier struggled in vain against the king's men. He'd been caught red-handed, as it were, with a bag of silver flatware known to have come from household of the king's royal mistress. Next time, he swore as he struggled to be free, he'd steal something that couldn't be as easily traced. He tried to slow their progress and figure out the best way to escape. Five of the king's best men had hold of him, and seven more surrounded them. Perhaps it would be best to let them kill him. He could hang, die, and then when his body was tossed in the midden… he could revive to steal another day. Always the pragmatist, he went limp. He would have remained limp except he noticed the captain of the guard set up a log and motion him to be brought forward. The captain was leering with a sword in his hands.
Xavier began once more to struggle. Even if it was something minor… he couldn't bear the thought of losing any body part. After all… it might not grow back despite his immortality. Wounds healed… but would lost limbs re-grow?
He became even more agitated as three men held his head to the stump and the captain laughed raucously as he raised his pike. This was not good! It became even more dangerous as Xavier felt the oncoming arrival of another immortal.
"Hold!" the newcomer shouted in a voice that meant business. "What has this man done?"
"He has robbed the home of Clothilde of Arles. We have evidence!"
Xavier snarled and tried once more to get his head off the log. He needed to see the immortal!
"Let me see the evidence," the immortal voice commanded quietly. Xavier heard something in that tone… the tone of a man accustomed to being obeyed without question and yet gentleness pervaded his voice. "This is but silver and only a few hundred livres at that," he chided them with a laugh. "Surely a man's life is worth more. Surely a man's soul is priceless."
"This man is not a Christian! He is a Moor," the captain complained.
"Did Christ not speak of his Father's house having many mansions? Who is to say this man's soul is worthless? Let he who is without sin cast the fatal blow."
Xavier heard the men around him shuffle and mumble. Then he was released. He sat up, rubbing his neck and glaring at the soldiers.
He saw the black robes over sandaled feet and then slowly raised his eyes to meet the startling blue ones peering out at him from beneath a hooded cloak. One hand pushed the hood back and the other hand reached forward to help him to his feet. "I'm Darius. You will come with me."
Not wanting to remain with the soldiers, Xavier nodded and followed the priest from the square. Through the twisted cobbled streets they made their way. Some of the citizens threw slop at him and screamed threats. But no one touched him. It was as if the sheer piety of the priest held them in check. He shamed them by his silence.
At last they entered a small stone church, newly built by the look of it. Unlike the soaring heights of the nearby Cathedral des Notre Dame, this one was plain and gave off a feeling of understated peace.
The priest sat next to a small brazier, stirring the coals and gestured for Xavier to do the same. Satisfied that they would have a bit of heat, he pulled out a loaf of black bread, tore off a piece to munch on and handed the rest to Xavier. "Eat my friend. We have much to talk of. Do you know what you are?"
Xavier began ripping off hunks of bread and cramming them into his mouth. It had been days since he'd last eaten. The priest chuckled and gathered a stone jar into his arms. From it he ladled an amber liquid. "This is honeyed mead. It can be a bit strong sometimes."
Xavier coughed. "It is very good. Who are you? What are you?"
The man smiled. "As I said. I'm Darius. As for what I am…" he stretched out his hands. "A humble servant of peace."
"You spoke like one accustomed to being obeyed."
"Ah… something from a previous life. I was general once. I led an army across the face of the known world."
Xavier laughed. "And now you… an immortal… are a priest?"
Darius shrugged. "I have to be something. So… how long have you been immortal?"
"Long enough to know how to use my sword. Those soldiers managed to get it from me. I'll have to get another one."
"You are safe here in the meantime. This is holy ground. No one will touch you here."
"Even you? I've heard tales of holy men who lure in the unwary of us and then take their heads under a guise of peace."
"Ah… yes. There are some who are less than charitable. Let us just say I know of them and steer my charges clear of them."
Xavier rubbed his hands together over the brazier as he stared about the plain and barren quarters of the priest. "I shall never consent to living like this. I like my comforts far too much."
"It's not a life most can adhere to… few mortals and even fewer of us immortals. But… I'm content. Now then… perhaps I can interest you in some light reading?"
"Just no Caesar… my last master had me read it until I had it memorized. I didn't care for it."
"Not a fan of the Romans… eh?"
"Just not a fan of my late mentor."
"He's dead?"
"Yes."
"You're certain?"
Xavier laughed lightly. "Very certain for I took his head."
The priest nodded. "It's always dangerous to teach the young ones. That's why so many die before reaching their potential."
"You are a very strange man Darius."
The priest grinned and shrugged. "So I've been told, my young friend. So I've been told."
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"Are you even paying attention to me?" James Horton snapped at his partner.
"Every word," Xavier replied. "Now then… why are we in Paris when MacLeod is in the States?"
"I have a target for you… remember. And it's one MacLeod knows. After that… we'll head to New York and work our way across the States where you will pick off some of his friends one… by… one."
"Why not go straight there?"
"Because I want my backstabbing brother-in-law to hear what is happening and to become worried enough that he feels the need to tell MacLeod. In the end… I will draw him back in with my soft words and tender lies. I will divide MacLeod from everyone he holds dear… friends, wife, Watcher… all will turn on him when they see him for what he truly he is."
"You worry me sometimes James. You sound rather like a madman."
Horton glared at his partner. "I have to see a doctor about an operation. I'll be back soon."
"Anyone I know?"
Horton could not contain his glee. "Not yet."
An hour later he was at the safe house and observing the bound and blindfolded form of the woman his men had kidnapped. He flipped through her file, noting that the specifications were not quite what he needed. Glancing at the surgeon he smirked. "Can you do it?" He flipped over the photo of Tessa Noel.
The doctor nodded, listing a number of things that would have to be done.
Yes, yes, thought Horton wearily. "But can you do it?"
"I can. It will take time and I cannot do anything about her voice."
"I can be anyone you want," the woman on the table writhed as if he were even interested in that sort of thing. "I'll worry about the voice… you get her under the knife. I want her healed and perfect within six weeks."
"Perfect," the doctor repeated with a nod. "My work is always perfect. My clients are most insistent on that."
"I dare say," Horton sighed. He handed the folder to his assistant and leaned over Lisa Halle. "Now then my dear, I have a little job for you… one that you will undoubtedly enjoy and one that I will pay you for. Add to that… you'll get a lovely new face that the authorities will not know. You do this for me… and you come out of this rich and with your new face.
"Who do you want me to be?" the psychopath asked.
Horton smiled. This was going to be perfect. With any luck, he'd not need her… but it was always wise to have a back-up plan in the pipeline… especially as he had such little faith in St. Cloud. The man would die soon enough… as soon as he was no longer useful. He'd never see it coming.
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Xavier exited the black limousine after telling the driver to wait. He brushed at the neck of his cashmere coat and took a moment to get a feel for the area. For a moment, he thought he'd felt an immortal in the area. But the longer he stood there, his eyes closed, he was certain it must have been someone passing in traffic.
Stately he mounted the stone steps and rang the bell. Doffing his hat at the young woman who answered the door, clearly a servant as she was modestly dressed and curtsied as he entered. He handed her his hat and slowly removed his gloves and coat, daring to touch and hold her chin for a moment before he dismissed her. "Enchanting," he said softly.
He turned and entered the parlor where soft music… Chopin he thought… played on a sound system. A scantily clad bottle-blonde strutted toward him in her white lingerie and took his arm.
"Bonsoir monsieur," she said and gestured toward the open bar.
Xavier removed his arm from hers and sat, crossing his legs. "Champagne, s'il vous plait." It was bubbly, chilled, and the bottle bore a reputable label. But then this was one of the better whorehouses in Paris.
Madame Pontefract clapped her hands as she entered and four beauties rose to pose before him. The blonde who'd met him at the door and served the champagne looked experienced. She moved her tongue over her lips and settled her hands on her hips. She moved them back and forth suggestively while he admired her long legs.
The redhead was a bit plump with firm, full breast… the kind a man could get lost in. She laughed a t touch too loudly as she ran her hands over her greatest feature and blew him a kiss.
The brunette was bored… quite literally. Lovely, long-legged, and lean, she'd likely made her money today and wasn't really interested in another customer.
The fourth girl had cafe au lait skin… much like his and dark curls that framed her face. She looked down at the floor and then up at him almost fearfully.
Xavier smiled at her, delighted in her blush. He had never had an interest in virginal women… or even in a long relationship with one. He'd always purchased his women for an afternoon of pleasure and left them appropriately rewarded. He rose and touched her chin, lifting her face to meet his.
"This one will do, I think Madame."
"Oui, Colette… monsieur will find her an exotic choice.
Madame clapped her hands and the other three moved back to other spots in the room. Xavier turned to her and agreed upon the customary price. Then he followed the young woman to her room.
Colette, if that was even her real name… not that it mattered to Xavier smiled at him once they were there.
"And what would monsieur like first," she said in a soft voice that seemed wrapped in velvet.
Xavier sat and crossed his legs. "Monseiur would like to watch you strip first. I like my women naked before me."
"As you wish monsieur," she replied and slowly began to unfasten and remove the showy black lingerie. Once she was nude, he bade her turn slowly while his eyes traveled over every inch of her firm skin.
He motioned her to the bed as he rose and removed his own clothes. He crawled into the bed and covered her, kissing and tasting her… making love to her gently and slowly as if she were the love of his life. Memories of his brute master forcing himself on his female servants at all ours of the day and night flickered in his mind. Xavier banished those stray thoughts. A woman, like good caviar or good wine was to be savored and cherished… even one purchased for the afternoon.
He entered her at last, noticing she was moist and more than ready… breathless and moaning softly with little gasps of pleasure as he moved in her and thrust while still fondling her small pert breasts… her lips… Xavier made love to the whole woman… not just one part of her. Again and again he built to heights of passion and then slowed down… making it last… making it exquisite… making it the little death so written of by romantic poets. She trembled in his hands and clung to him with a desperation and need that he doubted she'd ever felt before. Finally… once he was certain he had pleasured her… he allowed his own passion to climax. He shuddered in the aftermath and then rolled onto his back.
For the next half hour, he lay there while she found a hundred ways to pleasure him. Finally he rose, and began to dress. He smiled at her blush as she sat naked on the bed, her nipples still erect as she rocked back and forth slightly… perhaps wishing he'd take her again.
He leaned over to her and kissed her lips gently, laying an extra gratuity on the bedside. "Enchante," he murmured and smiled as she looked at him with pleading eyes that begged him to take her with him and make her his own.
Descending the stairs, he settled up with Madame Pontefract and collected his coat, hat and gloves from the servant girl. Perhaps the next time he was in Paris, she would be ready for him. A light rain had fallen in the afternoon, and as the streetlamps were turned on and the glow of lights on the Eiffel Tower and the Arch de Triumph glowed on the horizon, the glare of the water pooled on the streets reflected the lights until all seemed lit as with fairy lights.
Xavier settled once more into the rear seat of the limousine and relaxed. His afternoon of pleasure would have to last him for some time to come, he feared. His mortal partner… so filled with hate… had no idea how pleasurable life could be. James Horton would undoubtedly die before he ever learned to live.
