Niebos, the night before:
Through the darkness of the island, Sarah Manning sped quickly to the deserted cove on the far side. The water already covered the beach… but that didn't bother her. It was the water she wanted. She shivered in its icy feel as she floated out towards the bay. As before… tendrils colder than ice wrapped about her legs… higher and higher they rose until they'd entered her with a piecing suddenness that made her gasp. As before, she sank below the surface as if drawn to that icy touch which made her feel more alive than she ever had. Again and again they darted into her with increasing force until her very mind seemed to fade to black. She gasped as she released the last bubble of air in her lungs and floated in a blackness tinged in red. Sarah throbbed in expectation.
Razor-sharp teeth came out of the darkness and bit into her soft flesh. Sarah shivered in ecstasy as the teeth consumed her. Then came the voice… slithering over what remained like a serpent. "Yessss…" it said. "Ssssso perfect. Ssso sssoft and deliccccciousss. You will do nicccccely."
Her feet touched the sand and her eyes opened. She stood in a landscape of night and fire. Molten lava spewed from the earth and consumed all life around her. Sarah laughed at the sight and clapped her hands. Turning… she saw a dark figure of shadow watching her. His eyes were like living flame.
Sarah dropped to the ground and spread her legs in invitation. "Take me master," she begged. "I have been prepared for you."
The figure laughed. "What will you do for me?"
"Whatever you want. I long to feel you within me."
"Are you so certain? Older and wiser immortals have fought me for millennia… refusing my touch."
"They are fools," she replied, even as she lay back and arched her back… her hands stretched longingly out to him as her hips gyrated.
"Be warned… I am death to immortals."
"And I will be your handmaiden."
Darkness covered her then… filling her eyes, her nose, her mouth, and her ears. Cold fire raced along every nerve and then she felt him between her legs and screamed in pain, as his very size seemed to rip her apart, even as it thrust into her. The fire mingled with the ice deep within her and she was battered up and down like a rag-doll in the throes of its mighty power.
-----
Sarah awoke prone on the sand, the waves lapping around her. She shivered in the night air and wondered about the dark figure of her dreams. Rising, she limped wearily toward the cliff-face. She tasted blood in her mouth and spit at the sand. Every muscle of her body ached as if she'd been tortured again by Kingsley. She collapsed on the bottom stone step, noting her bloody trail over the wet sand. In the pale light of the moon she could see dark bloody streaks on her thighs.
"Ice, fire and darkness," she gasped and lay back against the cliff trying to clear her thoughts. "What have we wrought? What have I done?" Within her she felt another heartbeat… stronger than her own… possessing and devouring her body. It was then that she noted that her normally flat abdomen bulged and rippled as something moved, and fed and grew within her. Sarah Manning screamed long into the night.
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At dawn he rose still bloody from the pitiful remnants of his mother's body. He licked his teeth where he'd torn his way free of her… eating his way out. His red eyes narrowed as he looked around and then he cackled maniacally. It was good to be back! He would destroy this place and all who dwelled here for the indignities he had suffered at their hands in his previous life. Once more… his darkness was reborn into the world… and his dark father had another foothold by which he could destroy this earth and all life on it.
But first… he was hungry. He nudged his mother's corpse with one bloodied foot. No… she wouldn't do. He wanted something living and vibrant. He wanted to feel their horror as he devoured them piece-by-piece. Something young, perhaps… something young and tasty.
He turned and began to lope his way along the beach path to the other side of the island. Behind him… Sarah Manning's corpse began to disintegrate and fall to dust.
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Weary from overnight duty at the hospital, Greg Powers rubbed a hand through his tangled hair and blinked at the pale shafts of the red dawn entering the windows of the doctors' lounge. For some reason, the glow of the dawn bothered him. He sat up, tossing the blanket he'd covered himself with, aside and held his head in his hands. He'd had strange dreams.
Truthfully, he'd felt bad since beginning the affair with Sarah Manning. Yesterday he'd awakened drained as if she'd fed on him somehow. His mind kept hearing her voice in his head pleading with him to save her.
Greg shook his head, slapped his thighs and rose. Yesterday had been a long, uneasy day and then he'd had duty. He was just tired… that was all. He rose and stretched out the kinks of sleeping in an uncomfortable position and then fumbled for his stethoscope as he left the lounge to double-check the patients. He hadn't eaten yesterday either… he'd tried, but food had not seemed appetizing to him. Everything had tasted sour and bitter. Even water had turned his stomach.
"Remind me not to drink so much," he grumbled to himself. Evidently his hangover from the drinking binge a few nights ago had decided to plague him a while… longer than normal… especially for an immortal. Greg pulled the charts of the dozen patients and glanced over the overnight vitals before he began his rounds.
Satisfied that nothing had happened overnight, he grabbed a cup of strong, bitter coffee from the machine at the nurses station, flashed the overnight charge nurse a thin smile and began to make his rounds.
As he checked on patients, his stomach still churning, he thought about Sarah and they way she made him feel. He didn't love her… but she was an amazing creature in bed. She knew moves and techniques that he… in nearly a thousand years had never experienced… and he thought he'd experienced everything. He hadn't seen her much yesterday and had wondered what she was up to. On the other hand, she'd drained him of energy so thoroughly he doubted he could have managed a third night with her. He eyed the drug cabinet as he passed it and shook his head. It would take too many stimulants to work on his system and someone would notice how much was missing. He also recalled how out of control he'd once been.
No… he was better off just working his way through how he felt today. Maybe when he got back to the villa after Eleanor relieved him, he'd take a long nap.
Something jarred his thoughts as Eleanor crossed his mind and a dark thought rose unbidden. "She hates me… she'll kill me." Greg shook his head. "Surely not," he told himself. But the thought took root in his psyche and grew in the darkness of his soul.
He finished shortly before Eleanor showed up; after they went over charts he headed back to the villa. He wondered idly where Sarah was, and why he hadn't seen her since sometime yesterday afternoon.
-----
Having spent a restful night in Phillip's room, Eleanor had checked in on J.D. in her room and then on Marianna in the girls' room. Both children were still asleep and the dawn had just been breaking.
Following his outing yesterday, J.D. had wanted dinner in bed and then had seemed uncomfortable when she'd started making up the chaise lounge to sleep in. She'd blown him a kiss and left him alone. Phillip was still on the far side of the island so she might as well give J.D. some privacy. He was too old to have his mother hovering over him. Likely he'd be back to sleeping in the boys' room tonight.
She'd felt carried away on gentle waves as she'd fallen asleep dreaming of Methos. When she'd awakened, this morning, she could taste him on her lips and smell him beside her. Things between them were so much better now that they'd both opened up and shared their fears and thoughts once more.
At the hospital, she'd noted Greg's haggard look. He was pale and his eyes seemed lost in dark circles. "You might want to take the day off. You may be spending too much time with Hope," she'd said lightly.
He'd glared at her but any retort he might have made was choked off. "Yeah… I need a good night's sleep," he'd mumbled before he'd left. She hoped he got it and settled in to face the day patients.
For the most part, the early ones were people who were being seen on a regular basis at the hospital as outpatients… checking in about the normal aches and pains of mortal life. Eleanor listened to them intently, gave advice, altered prescriptions if necessary and sent them on their way. The morning seemed to be speeding by when she heard the church bells in the village ring. Worried, she rose and stepped outside, curious as to why they were ringing this time of day.
From the hospital, she could see a crowd congregating outside the church and could hear angry and frightened voices. She turned to the nurses and indicated she would be right back as she started down the path.
Screams and sobs peppered the voices as she drew closer. Nervously she pushed through the crowd.
"They vanished right out of the crib," a man was saying. "My wife found blood in the crib and on the window sill. Some animal has taken my children!"
Beside him sat a young woman, sobbing into a small bloody blanket.
Eleanor felt a hand on her arm and looked up into the face of Nikos Alexandros, the former constable of the village. He gestured silently for her to follow him and led her around the side of the church.
"Where is the patrone?"
"On the far side of the island. He wanted a few days peace and quiet."
Nikos looked around. "Find him and tell him that Nikos thinks the monster is loose."
Eleanor shook her head. "That's not possible Nikos."
"I have a long memory as do many here. It will occur to the rest of them soon enough. The monster that eats our children is back."
Could he be right? Had Phillip continued to check on Valeraine these past few days? A cloud blew across the face of the sun and Eleanor shivered. "I shall get word to him at once," she assured the man and immediately climbed the hill to the villa at a fast jog. She could even feel Methos' growing worry. She hesitated to tell him or explain as he could do nothing… but the word was out before she could stop it. Nestor!
She raced into Phillip's study, opened the safe and withdrew her sword.
"What's the matter?" John asked as he peeked in and saw her securing it about her waist.
"Tell Grace to keep all the children here at the house, no matter how they complain." Then she tossed a sword to him. John caught it easily but gave her a strange look as she pulled out Phillip's sword as well and turned from the safe, leaving it open. "Get everyone armed."
"Why?"
"Someone or something kidnapped two infants during the night leaving behind a trail of blood. I'm off to find Phillip."
"You think Nestor is loose?"
Eleanor shook her head. "I don't know what to think… but it's best to be prepared. Get everyone up and secure the children. No one goes off alone."
"What about you?"
"I have to get Phillip!"
"Let someone come with you. No one should be alone, that includes you."
Eleanor paused and nodded. "Fine… just hurry." A few moments later a bleary-eyed Greg popped his head in. He soberly took his rapier and moments later the two of them started off across the island.
"So much for a good day's sleep," Greg yawned as they climbed to the hump in the trail that then led in several directions.
"No rest for the weary evidently," Eleanor retorted. Her laughter felt brittle… nervous… more to ease tension than anything she truly felt at the moment. She wished she'd taken the time to see for herself that the children were still inside the villa… that they were safe. Well… no help for it now. She climbed faster. In her mind she sensed Methos' urgency to return and his frustration at being so far away.
-----
Phillip cast the net into the waters of the small bay and pulled the net tight… feeling the tug and draw of the fish he'd caught. He'd forgotten the pleasure of the old ways all too often in this modern age. He was a man of his time… and the passing of time had cut him off from his past. He still recalled the first time he'd fished in this manner. He'd still been a youth on this island and he'd wanted to do something useful.
"What can you do?" Danäe had laughed.
"Truly, my Lady. I do not know," he'd replied humbly.
"Feed my children?" she'd teased.
"If thou wish it… I will."
So he'd been assigned to Demetrius… the fisherman whose small hut had once stood where the current farmhouse did. The old man was half-crippled from an accident and his days of fishing from one of the small boats in the fleet were long past. Instead, he'd thrown the net out into the bay and pulled it in… brimming with fish. He'd taught Phillip how to read the signs of water and wave to know where to throw his net. Phillip had never forgot.
Since he'd "officially" purchased the island some two hundred years ago, he'd tried to keep her request in his mind here. "Feed my children?" she'd asked not of the boy… but of the immortal man he'd become.
Hearing his name from ashore, he glanced up to see Eleanor and Greg arrive on the beach. And… they were armed.
Phillip released his catch back into the waters and rolled the net over his burly arm as he strode ashore, the net over one arm… the trident held in the other… looking for all the world like some artist's representation of Poseidon himself.
"What's happened?" he asked as he splashed ashore, seawater dripping in runnels around him.
"When was the last time you were at the cove?" Eleanor began breathlessly.
"Yesterday? No… the day before," the Greek replied. He shot a puzzled glance at Greg and then continued. "After our talk… I thought it best to take the evening off."
"Nestor may have freed himself somehow," she continued and then told him about the missing children and the signs of blood.
Phillip placed net and trident on the rocky shore as he took his shortsword and girded his waist. "I don't see how… but I'll check."
"No," Greg replied. "We'll check."
Again Phillip looked at the immortal. Valeraine's actual location had remained a secret from most of the other immortals. Finally he nodded. If Eleanor were right… then he'd welcome the young man's help. "Come along then," he replied as he led the way back across the island.
-----
As soon as the three immortals were out of sight, he rose unseen from the tall grass and moved down to the shore where his shadow fell across the net and trident. "How perfectly appropriate," he sniggered and picked them up. After a few practice throws of the net and a few stabs of the trident… he'd mastered using them. They were old weapons… and in one life he'd used something similar in the gladiatorial combat of the Roman coliseum. He could still hear the cries of the bloodthirsty crowd as he killed opponent after opponent. Life had been good then. As a reward he was given virginal young women and boys to slake his thirst. He'd had no fear of dying in the arena… after all… one cannot kill what was never truly living.
These discarded implements would prove useful indeed. With a dark laugh that sent even the nesting birds flying in fear, he moved across the sand. Now that he'd eaten… he had plans to make. Perhaps he needed a woman or a boy to rape. It didn't matter which he found first. His reign of terror was ready to commence once more.
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