Chapter 14
I Don't Feel Safe Anymore

"I always feel like somebody's watching me
And I have no privacy
I always feel like somebody's watching me
Tell me is it just a dream?"

"Somebody's Watching Me" - Kennedy William Gordy (Rockwell)

24 September 1999
Glencoe, Scotland

Siobhan O'Banian had never considered herself to be a leader. In her previous life, her time with the Irish Republican Army, she had merely been one of the many soldiers following one of the many charismatic officers in its ranks, doing as she was told and rarely straying outside her lane. Now, however, she felt the pull to step outside of that comfort zone. Today, she had to move to the front and take charge. She stood in front of the small gathering of Immortals and cleared her throat, fighting off the nervousness she felt in her voice. She did her best to keep her accent suppressed as she spoke, but it still crept in at times.

"Hello, everyone, and thank you for comin'. I don't know how much each of ya knows about what has been goin' on around here lately so I'll tell you what happened ta me. Some of you probably had the same. Some not.

I'll start by tellin' ya a little about myself. My name is Siobhan O'Banian. I was born in 1945 in Belfast, Northern Ireland. I became immortal after a faulty bomb went off too early in Guildford, England in 1974. I was twenty-nine at the time. Yes, before ya ask me, I was involved with the Ra at the time, but not anymore. Since then, I have been a freelance photojournalist.

"I had a home on the Isle of Skye in an old abandoned church until a few days ago. It was burned down by a group of people who call themselves Watchers. They said they were under orders to attack me an' take my head. I killed two of them and escaped. I then called James," she pointed out James MacNaughton as she spoke, "and some of the others of you here and arranged this meeting to talk about what to do about them.

"Before I say what I want to do, I see a lot o' strangers here. At least, strangers ta me. Would everyone please introduce themselves and give us a quick rundown of their qualifications?"

With that request, the woman pushed her red hair out of her face and sat down, glad to have finished speaking for the moment. She looked at the Immortal closest to her, Michael DeLioncourt. The Frenchman nodded and stood.

"I am Michael De Lioncourt," he began, fingering the twenty-seven bead Buddhist rosary on his left wrist as he spoke. "I was born in 1492 in Paris and met my first death in Marseille in battle in 1515. I was twenty-three. Over the years, I have been a soldier, monk, musician, spy, actor, even a baker and a winemaker. These days, I have been working as a private investigator.

"I was living in the United States and had a job that brought me to Glasgow. While there, I had a run-in with some of these Watchers when they conducted a hit on the pub where I was tailing a subject. At first, I thought they were trying to assassinate him but very quickly learned they were after me, instead. I barely escaped, badly hurt, and moved south. I linked up with some other Immortals whose friends had been killed by Watchers and stayed with them for a while. I would have brought them with me today but they were concerned about security and chose to stay where they were. I will report to them when this is concluded and they will decide whether to join us or not later on."

De Lioncourt sat. O'Banian turned her gaze to the next person in line. She did not know this green-eyed man. He was a friend of MacNaughton's. The man stood, shaking his light brown head of hair as he did so. Clearing his throat softly, he spoke.

"Hello. I'm Aaron Pittmann. I was twenty-five when I was murdered by a highwayman in Madrid, Spain in 1815. That's when I first realized I was immortal. I was the son of English immigrants living in Spain. I have been a carpenter, pilot, teacher, and a police officer. I now work as a stuntman in Hollywood films. I guess I should mention that I've called a few other people who might be able to help us, too. I should hear back from them soon."

Pittmann glanced to his right as he sat. The next man stood quickly. He was tall with long blond hair and blue eyes and was dressed head-to-toe in Hugo Boss casual attire. He began his introduction right away.

"I'm Hewett Penn. I've also placed a few calls. I'm a relatively new Immortal compared to many of you, at least I would guess." Penn's accent was slightly Germanic. "I was born in Bonn, Germany in 1910. I died in 1943 in Belgorod, Russia while serving in the Wehrmacht. I was a professional soldier then and I am so now, though in a private capacity."

"A mercenary," commented the other female Immortal in the room.

"Yes," Penn dryly as he sat. "That is one word for it."

The next man smiled at Siobhan warmly as he stood. He waved at those in the room.

"Hi, I'm Michal Batakova. I'm a little older than some of you. I was born in 1242 near what is now Smiljan, Croatia. In 1266, I was in a carriage accident and had a skull fracture. That is how I died the first time. I have no formal education but I can read and write in several languages and have worked as a farmhand and as a translator. I have also worked as a security guard and a rancher."

Next to Batakova was a well-dressed man who, by all appearances, was in his late thirties. He stood and looked around the room, spending a few seconds on each face. With a slight nod, he began.

"Greetings. I am the Baron Darmond Bilsby. I have been alive since the year of our Lord 922. I became immortal thirty-eight years later when I fell from my horse and broke my back. It took me two days to die from that accident and two horrible days they were. Though my nobility is minor, the fortune I have amassed during my life is not. I suspect I know the direction Ms. O'Banian plans to lead this little party once our introductions are completed and I, in conjunction with Mr. MacNaughton, I am sure, am perfectly willing to finance it. I also have contacts with many others whose skills could be useful, if my conjecture is correct.

"As far as my own abilities and prior experience, I have a multitude of skills in the areas of languages, finance, and politics, as well as knowledge of law, chemistry, and aviation. I am also an expert shot with a rifle and a pistol, should that be necessary."

James MacNaughton smiled as Bilsby resumed his seat. Standing, he addressed the small group.

"Good afternoon, everyone. For those who do not know me already, I am James MacNaughton. I, too, think I know what Siobhan is going to suggest at the end of this and, since I have done well for myself over the years, I will naturally contribute toward the success of it.

"As far as information about myself, I am over two thousand years old. By the Gregorian calendar, I was born in 285 BCE and I first died in 260 BCE. I was born in what is now Ireland, in fact, in the town where I still live, Armagh. I have been a soldier for most of my life but recently I have chosen to pursue a slightly more peaceful way of making a living. You can laugh if you want but I am now the masked wrestler known as Seamus in the United States. No one else except you eight know this fact."

MacNaughton grinned as a few of those present chuckled, but no one laughed in any sort of belittling fashion. MacNaughton sat. Razumov began to speak next. MacNaughton nudged him to remind him to stand.

"Hello. I am Marton Razumov. I am Russian and was born in 1850. I died in 1881 when I was thirty during an attempted assassination of Tsar Alexander II. I have worked as a soldier; I have been a monk; and I have been a construction worker. I most recently lived in Toronto where I worked construction for the last four years. After I was attacked by Watchers where they killed a priest in front of me, I fled and came to the U.K. where, on Siobhan's suggestion, I took up residence with Mr. MacNaughton."

The last person to speak was the other female Immortal in the room. Petite with dark brown hair and hazel eyes, she stood confidently and addressed the room as if she did such for a living - which she did.

"I am Ruth Okin. My original name was Safiyah Mifsud. My birthplace was in Jerusalem in 22 BCE. After being raped when I was nineteen, I confessed this fact to my husband, a marriage of convenience rather than love, a year later. He accused me of adultery and had me stoned to death in the town square. I revived as an Immortal later that evening.

"I have travelled pretty much the entire world during my life and can speak many of its languages. I am also familiar with the customs of most of the cultures of the world. I have been a farmer, a wanderer, a travel hostess, an explorer, a businesswoman, a sea captain, a surveyor, even a preacher. I am currently a leadership trainer for a major corporation.

"In summation, regarding myself personally, I would rather farm than fight, but I realize there is a time when one must take up arms or die. I would rather die on my feet than live on my knees."

O'Banian stood again, nodding to herself. She ran a hand through her red hair, more for something to do before she spoke rather than to move it from her face, and spoke to them all once more.

"Okay, thank ye for that everyone. I'm glad that we could get to know a little bit about each other. Now, I want to explain what I have in mind. Please wait until I'm finished before ya say anythin' about it. I'll let ya ask yer questions. Fer now, just let me talk."

She ran her eyes over the small group, looking for any signs of objection. There were none. She blinked her green eyes twice and began.

"Alright, here goes. Now, I have put a lot of thought into this and while it might sound extreme, believe me it is the only way we can be sure of our own safety in the future." O'Banian took a breath, searching the eyes of each Immortal in the room before she resumed voicing her thoughts.

"I propose," she began, "that we utterly destroy the Watcher Organization. First, we start in Great Britain, then we move on to Europe and then successfully to each continent thereafter. Every Hunter that has come after us is a Watcher. Every Watcher is a potential Hunter. We kill 'em all. And we kill everyone attached to them. That means their families, too. They have done that to us. Just read the papers. They have murdered Immortals and their wives or husbands. We return the favor to them. We take out their entire households. Everyone who wears a Watcher tattoo an' everyone who knows and loves a Watcher must die. Once that is done, we know we have our security. Without success in this, we will always be in danger from these Watchers, these Hunters.

"I already have a short list of names and locations of some of these Watchers. We can start in a very short time and expand our operations very quickly. As we gather information and numbers, we can increase our tempo even faster. It will still take a long time. Could take years. I don't know how many Watchers there are in the world. I know I'm going to kill a hell of a lot of them, though, or they're going to kill me. If taking out every one of these people and all of their families is what I need to do so I an' the people I love can sleep safely at night then that is what I'm willin' ta do. I don't care how long it takes."

Silence greeted her. O'Banian blinked again and let her eyes roam across the room, locking with the gaze of each Immortal in the group for a brief moment. None of them responded verbally but, after a second or two, each of them nodded their assent. After the last nod, she smiled and her eyes brightened.

"Thank you, everyone. I know we're a small group right now. We can grow and make this effort of ours a powerful force. We'll make our mark on the Watchers. We won't be forgotten."

"Have you thought of a name for this little council of yours?" asked Bilsby. "Every good movement needs a name."

O'Banian locked her jaw in place to keep it from dropping. She had never considered such a thing. After a moment of contemplation, she smiled again and spoke back to the baron.

"Why get complicated with it, Baron Bilsby? Let's just go with the name you just cited. The Council."

MacNaughton grinned at that proposal. "I'm fine with that. I move that we call this little organization of ours, The Council. All in favor?"

The room chattered with a chorus of "ayes" and the group raised their hands in unison. As a matter of course, MacNauton went through the motions of saying, "All against?" None responded.

"The motion carries," he said. "We shall be known as The Council. And I believe it goes without saying that Siobhan O'Banian should be elected as the leader of The Council."

The room echoed again with a unanimous response of "ayes." O'Banian blushed.

"Thank you, everyone. I humbly accept. And you will not regret this decision."