Chapter Forty-Eight

Aboard the Lady Ambergris II:

"How fast can this ship go?" Methos shouted as he climbed aboard.

"Depends on the wind," Caspar replied. "Who the hell is Nestor? What's this all about?"

Behind him in the launch, Alisaunne looked pale and had said little since Methos had mentioned her tormentor's name. Cassandra held her hand, murmuring softly to her.

Derrick rose and climbed aboard after Methos and Caspar. "Fire the engine up Caspar. We can make headway while we maneuver to catch the wind." He turned to Methos. "You're sure?"

"All I know is that Eleanor thinks something has happened. I have to get back as fast as possible."

"How do you know this?" Derrick persisted.

Methos drew in a long cautious breath as he looked at the immortals around him. "Intuition," he finally said. Derrick seemed to accept his explanation and pivoted to the pilothouse to steer them out of the harbor. Over his shoulder he yelled for the crew to deploy the sails so that they could catch the wind as soon as possible.

"Then it could be nothing," Amber was calling after Methos. "Maybe if you explain to us who this is… we'll understand better what to do."

Alisaunne began to shudder. "Do? You can do nothing! If he's back… if he's free… people will die." She pulled loose of Cassandra as she rose and grabbed Ren. "You saw me… you saw what he did… I tried to explain… He's the monster of my nightmares."

Ren shook his head. "You've been very cryptic about him." He wrapped his arms around her and held her close… relieved that she sighed against his chest and seemed calmer. Then she pulled away with a fearful expression.

Her hands covered her face and then her fingers ran through her hair. "What about flight? Can we get there faster that way?" she said, directing her question to Methos.

He hissed slightly. "With a currently dead body in a street, and witnesses who could identify us as the perpetrators of the deed… I think we'd be held up at the airport. No… our fastest way out of here is the ship."

He pivoted to follow Derrick toward the pilothouse and the maps. He wanted to be certain they charted the fastest way there.

"Bad man," Burke was mumbling as he climbed aboard. "Bad man in the darkness." He leaned against the railing and stared at his blood-covered hands as if the answer were there. His shoulders shook from his sobs.

Curiously, Cassandra lifted his head. Tell me what you see, she said.

"Something old with red eyes," Burked mumbled in a strange voice. "Seen him haunting my dreams for years. The shadow in the darkness that watches us all."

Methos whipped around and stared at him. "With red eyes?" He looked off into the distance. "MacLeod mentioned red eyes."

"What has Duncan to do with this?" Alisaunne yelled.

Methos tried to clear his thoughts. Red eyes meant Ahriman… the demon MacLeod had fought once. He said he'd defeated him… by not fighting him… not engaging him… but if Ahriman was the essence of evil… was it ever defeated? Could evil ever die? What if Nestor was just his puppet? Was he a failed champion? Or had he been seduced by a dark quickening himself? "I need more information," he mumbled and turned back to the pilothouse. He needed to contact Joe. Dawson had the files. Dawson had been there at the time. Dawson would know.

Behind him, the confusion mounted, as questions were asked for which there were no answers.

"How the hell does he know that this is a problem," David Keogh finally said to Michelle Webster as they worked the pulleys to raise the sails. "I mean… none of this makes sense."

"I don't know, David. I do know that I had some really bad nightmares during that period of time I was unconscious at the hands of the Watchers. And so did you."

David shrugged. "Yeah… but those dreams had some basis in reality."

"Look at Burke. He went through it too… we know that. Or at least we've suspected it. Maybe he saw something and that's why he's the way he is?" she replied with a shake of her head.

From the foremast where he worked, Masahiro watched them all… but most of all he watched Derrick as he had since finding him. The young man's basic trust of others had always interested him. He trusted this Pierson fellow. Masahiro continued to wonder if that were wise. As for the new man and woman that they'd brought aboard… he worried that these two immortals were dangerous to them all. The woman, especially, had moved in that alley as if she were a dangerous and deadly fighter. And because of Burke's unchecked violence… they had left behind what would surely be a dangerous enemy once he revived. Yet taking his head in view of witnesses would have been to out all of them.

Masahiro shook his head. This day's events… what had begun so promisingly as the rescue of someone they cared about… was becoming something else entirely.

He watched Cassandra work her magic on Burke. Derrick had forbidden her using the voice and Masahiro had been charged with making certain she obey. And yet right now… that ability was clearly being used to discover what was still bothering Burke. Masahiro finished his duties with a grunt and returned to stand watch over his charges.

Tell me about your dreams, Burke, Cassandra insisted. She glanced up at Masahiro's approach but then refocused on Burke. What did you see?

Around them, the others drifted silently as Burke's eyes glazed over. He closed them and rocked for a moment. When he opened them again, the voice that came from him, while essentially the same, was different. In that voice was no confusion.

"They came for us… Odette and me… in the dead of night. We didn't sense them coming. They were mortals who broke into our home and shot us with tranquilizers. I managed to kill two of them before the drugs took me."

Who was Odette? Cassandra asked.

"My wife… my lover… my other half. We'd been together for over a century. She knew magic… she knew voodoo. She had the second sight and could see things before they happened. But this… she didn't see."

"Yes," murmured Cassandra. "Sometimes we who see the paths of the future do not see or understand some of them. It is as if our eyes are clouded." She sat back on her heels and glanced thoughtfully at the pilothouse.

"Go on," whispered Alisaunne nearby. "Find out what he knows."

"Perhaps Derrick or Adam should be here," Cassandra hesitated.

"They'll be back. If it really is Nestor… they need to get us to Niebos as fast as possible. I can fill them in… just tell me what this man knows."

Cassandra glanced at the others as they gathered around. Caspar was still below decks and she could feel the power of the small engine propelling them through the waters, even as Derrick steered them out into the open sea to catch the wind and Methos fretted. How had he known? Cassandra turned back to Burke. Tell me what happened next.

Burke nodded his head and shuddered. Then he began to speak once more.

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Niebos, the cove:

The waters still covered much of the sandy crescent of beach at the foot of the stone steps. Phillip paid the lapping water no mind as he waded into it. "I still feel her," he said, just before he dove beneath the surface. His head came back up further out in the cove some moments later when he gulped in air and then dove once more.

"He drowned him?" Greg asked.

"Her… and kept her on holy ground where he could keep an eye on her," Eleanor explained.

"Wait. I thought Nestor was a man."

Eleanor sighed and explained about how Nestor was many people and how his quickening… a thing of unrelenting darkness seemed to swallow whole anyone who beheaded him. "No matter who kills him, he overwhelms them. Some faster than others." She explained about how an immortal named Nick Wolfe had managed to hold the darkness in check for several years. But in the end, he succumbed to it. She then explained how the only immortal around who could stop Nick was a small one. She'd been unable to fight off the effects and had been restrained by a mortal whom she'd warned and trusted with her secret. "Eventually, Phillip arrived and he and Reagan Cole devised this plan to keep the body safe and the soul contained."

"I've been down here maybe a dozen times, I never noticed anything," Greg added. "Not even an immortal nearby."

"Well she's pretty far out. I don't think anyone could sense her from here," Eleanor explained and then rubbed the side of her head. The other night… the night she'd had to swim across the cove, she'd sensed a malevolence here that was seeking something. She'd fought it off… knowing what it was, but she hadn't been clear-headed for days after that. She shivered despite the warmth of the sun.

Phillip emerged and was evidently on the submerged rock, although he was still in water nearly up to his waist. "She's still here."

Eleanor stepped into the water, letting it lap over her feet and then up her legs to her hips as she waded out further and further. She closed her eyes and tried to sense what she'd felt the other night. She felt nothing. Her eyes snapped open. "He's not here. Bring her up."

"What?" Phillip cried out.

"Bring that child up here; we need to talk to her."

Phillip stared down into the waters and then dove into the depths once more. Eleanor began to wade toward the submerged rock shelf. Behind her, Greg stood on the stairs and gazed around at the cove. He was trying to get this to make sense somehow. Clearly more had been going on here on the island than he had ever guessed.

Noticing some fabric floating on the water, Greg leaned over to pick it up. It was a shredded negligee… covered with dried blood, which was even now dissolving in the seawater. He lifted it thoughtfully. Sarah had one like this. He stared at the other two immortals now struggling in the water with a body wrapped in a body bag and chains. A small voice in his head whispered. "She hates me Greg. She'll do anything to kill me. You have to stop her. You have to kill her and protect me." Greg shook his head to clear it. His hands tightened on the fabric as he stared at the other two. "She lies, Greg. Every word she speaks is a lie."

With Eleanor's help, Phillip managed to lift the body bag onto the rock. Then, struggling with the immense effort, he lifted it and began to wade through the deeper water on his way to the thin line of sand.

Eleanor floated next to him, treading water while helping him get Valeraine's corpse to shore. As her feet found the sand beneath the water… she reached to help him steer the body ahead of them. Finally reaching the beach, Phillip knelt next to the body and sliced the bag open.

He turned away a moment as the putrid smell overwhelmed him. She looked soft… almost gelatinous… pale… her blonde hair a thin greenish white web of threads. Beneath her skin… a network of small veins showed. Then she gasped and her blue eyes snapped open. She blinked and opened her mouth… wailing wordlessly in terror.

"It's all right Lass," Phillip assured her as he worked the knife through the bag to free her. He pushed and pulled at the chains… trying to move them off of her.

"Valeraine… take long slow breaths," Eleanor said quietly. "It's just us. You're safe. He can't hurt you. Not now."

The girl's eyes widened in terror. She shuddered and moved her mouth… trying to speak… but no sound came out. One hand was finally free of restraints and the fingers, so small that they looked like twigs reached for Phillip's hand. They looked lost in his massive hand as they curled around one of his fingers. The gesture reminded him of how Marianna had often curled in his lap and rested when she was small… how she'd drawn power from him.

"I wonder," he said.

"What?" Eleanor asked.

He relaxed and tried to feel as he did when Marianna drew from him. However nothing happened. He opened his eyes and smiled at the girl. "Sorry Lass… it was worth a try though." Then he continued to work at freeing her while Eleanor kept reassuring the girl that she was safe.

"Greg… let me have your sweater," Eleanor said turning toward the other immortal. "It's dry and we need to wrap her up in something." She noticed the bloody white fabric in his hands. "Greg? What's that?"

Greg wavered a moment on his feet. He seemed to be struggling with some inner demon. Eleanor rose, worried. Had he been compromised somehow?

Greg drew in a gasp of air and let the fabric fall to the sand. "Just some flotsam I guess," he said numbly. He pulled off the sweater he wore over his T-shirt and handed it to her. When their hands touched… he hissed and shook his head again. "Sorry… this is all just very confusing."

"I'll explain later. We have to get her warmed up." Eleanor turned to ease the sweater over the girl's head and pull it down over her, even as Phillip finished trying to get her free.

"He wanted you," she said hoarsely and gently touched Eleanor's face. "He reached out for you. I tried to stop him."

"I'm fine. He didn't get me," Eleanor said with a worried smile.

Valeraine shook her head. "He found another. He enflamed her… got her ready… gave her to the other one."

"The other one?" Phillip asked. He glanced at Eleanor… puzzlement in his brown eyes.

"Fire and ice and darkness," Valeraine said as her head began to nod. "Antithesis of life." She closed her eyes and lay against Phillip's chest.

"Wonder what she meant by that?"

"Nestor swore that even if we killed him in such a way that his quickening would never be released… that he'd be reborn," Eleanor said quietly. She reached over to stroke Valeraine's hair thoughtfully.

Phillip snorted as he rose to his feet, the girl in his arms. "He said a lot of things. He was mad. And so were those who held his spirit over the years." He glanced at the beach path, still under water and then at the stone steps, wondering which way he should go.

"No," Eleanor insisted as she touched his arm. "I think that's what happened. Valeraine mentioned three things… fire, ice, and darkness. She mentioned that he wanted me but took another and prepared her. What does that sound like?"

Phillip sighed and turned. "I don't know… a perversion of the way we made Marianna. We did it here… on holy ground." Desperation tinged his voice. "Is it still holy ground?"

"If something was born without one of us to lend our strength," Greg added in confusion… what would happen?"

Eleanor shook her head, recalling Darius' posthumous letter to her. "Death for the mother possibly. That's why we wanted to be very careful about who knew and make certain it was always in a controlled situation." She met his gaze. "Who do you think he used?"

Greg rubbed both of his temples and grimaced in pain. "She was darker that last night. She was so strange."

"Who?" Phillip asked.

"Sarah," Greg replied. "Sarah was down here the other night with me. I left. The next day she was… she felt… dark… cold… different. She told me things." He screamed suddenly in frustration. "She told me you hated her. She told me to kill you!" He drew his sword. Beneath his feet the ground rumbled and shifted as he held it in both hands, and pointed it at Eleanor. "Run," he whispered in wide-eyed terror.

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