Chapter 17

It was funny. When Methos was standing in front of her yammering about yelling if she needed his help, all she wanted was him out of her sight. Now that she was alone in the base, Cassandra felt woefully vulnerable. Even his presence would have been welcome. Possibly.

Looking upward into the northeast corner, she caught Duncan's eye. He waved, then remembered she could hear him. "I'm watching," he said simply. She nodded, not trusting her voice to be steady.

She saw Kronos ducking behind a barrier forty or fifty feet away. A minute or two later, he was ten feet nearer. She cursed him silently. She never got a long enough glimpse to get a bead on him. Her peripheral vision picked up something falling from the catwalk, and she turned her head to see Caspian hit the floor and roll. Break your neck, she thought sourly.

Thus distracted, she didn't see Kronos looming fifteen feet away until he had her in his sight. She pulled back, but the red lights on his vest started flashing. His look of surprise and anger was almost comical as he spun around looking for the culprit. She chuckled, flashing a look at MacLeod. "Thanks."

"Wasn't me," he said. She felt a stab of surprise herself, then shrugged. Even Methos was bound to come through once in a while. Just don't expect him when it's important.

Knowing that Kronos would be advancing again, she ducked down and headed toward the opposite side of the base. Peering through a window-hole in the six-foot wall, she saw him, again about fifteen feet away. Quickly aiming at his chest, she pulled the trigger, but he moved and her beam caught his shoulder sensor. Well, three seconds disabled was better than nothing.

Starting to get into the spirit of the game, she was smiling slightly as she backed around toward the far north side of the base area, anxious to try to hit Kronos yet again. She was startled when she backed into something.

"Hello, pretty lady," said Caspian into the silence of the song change. The simple greeting was unbearably lewd coming from his lips.

Her blood suddenly replaced with ice water, Cassandra's voice deserted her as well. The best she could manage was small huffing sounds as she backed away. He matched her pace, clearly toying with her. She shot without thinking, and his vest lights flashed. Caspian laughed, a revolting, ghastly sound, even with the obscenely loud music that had begun once again.

Energized by that laugh, Cassandra turned to bolt, and he grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her toward him. Pain and anger joined with her terror to restore her voice. "Let go! Let go of me!" Incomprehensibly, she added, "Methos!"

A voice from her earpiece shouted her name, but whether it was Duncan or the old man, she couldn't tell, because Caspian was whispering in her other ear. She couldn't understand the words over the music, but his unwholesome intent was clear enough. Slamming her effortlessly against the wall, he crowded into her personal space, rubbing himself against her urgently, gruesomely.

She turned her head and squirmed, and he used her hair again to brutally pin her head back against the wall. The other hand came up to the side of her face, and she felt cold metal on her cheek. "There, there," he said, stroking her face gently, rhythmically, with an eight-inch knife. Never had she felt less soothed by those words.

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Damn it! Duncan couldn't believe he hadn't noticed Caspian's backdoor advance. The distraction of Kronos' obvious frontal assault had worked on him as well as Cassandra. He launched himself from the catwalk (let them disqualify me, he thought), landing off-balance and crashing to the floor. He was up almost before he finished falling and was rushing toward the base.

As though materializing from thin air, Kronos was suddenly in his path. Frowning, MacLeod at first couldn't place what was different about him. The vest, said a helpful voice in his head. The laser tag vest was gone, and with it the pretense that this was a game. Kronos waved his ridiculously large sword at Duncan, who belatedly remembered Methos' confession about swords hidden under the catwalk stairs.

Wildly, he struggled to remember where the old man had told him the third one was hidden. Barrel, said the voice again. Duncan's eyes flitted to the three barrels placed near the front of their base.

Taking advantage of MacLeod's wandering attention, Kronos lunged with the broadsword. It struck Duncan's chest as he pulled away, but the vest absorbed the blow, resulting in a damaging gash to the chest sensor and housing. There goes Methos' security deposit, Duncan thought absurdly. He leaped suddenly, up and over the nearest barrier, narrowly escaping a cutting swipe by Kronos' sword.

He hit the floor less gracefully this time, wrenching his right shoulder. Realizing he was still clutching the laser gun, he dropped it, hauled himself to his feet and made a beeline for the barrels, Kronos in hot pursuit. The rifle banged painfully against his knees as it dangled from the cable. Great idea, letting go of it.

Feeling the breeze from yet another sword-swing, Duncan dove head-first at the barrels. They were weighted, but fortunately not that heavily. None of them fell over. On his knees, he shoved each of them over, casting about for the sword. Methos, if you were lying...

Success! The third barrel contained a longsword, and he grabbed it gratefully.

He felt Kronos' sword plunge deeply into his back and howled in pain.

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The knife was still stroking the left side of Cassandra's face as Caspian buried his obscene grin in her hair, nuzzling the right side of her neck. Hearing the hissing of his breath, she understood that he was sniffing her. When she felt his tongue on her skin, her stomach rolled. She screamed long and wordlessly.

Stopping for a breath, she heard Duncan's cry of agony in her ear and her heart went cold. The word "No!" was being screamed over and over, and she realized it was coming from her. Caspian laughed, thinking her performance was all for him. Galvanized yet again by the sound of his laughter, Cassandra realized that she still clutched the laser rifle between their bodies. Bending her knees as much as his grip on her hair permitted, she launched herself upward suddenly and brought the point of the rifle straight up into Caspian's chin.

With a grunt, he staggered backward, releasing her hair, and she took the opportunity to run out of the base area. Before she cleared the final barrier, however, she ran into the hilt of Kronos' broadsword and collapsed, stunned, into a heap at his feet.

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Mostly recovered, Caspian leapt upon her, knife poised. "Stay, brother," commanded Kronos as he dragged the bloodied and limp Duncan into the base area.

"What are we waiting for?" Caspian rasped, voice harsh with rage and need. It echoed loudly in the pause between songs.

"Did you pay me no attention on the plane, Caspian? The deaths of these two mean nothing unless they happen in Methos' presence. Silas should be bringing him momentarily, and then we will feast on the last of his fragile hope." Giving the unconscious Scot a kick for fun, he added, "I promise, you can play with her to your heart's content after I kill MacLeod. And Methos will watch it all."

Acknowledging Caspian's grinning nod, Kronos turned to look toward his own team's base. Soon Silas would appear bearing Methos… and the future of the Four Horsemen.