PART THREE

The Wednesday morning bus to Metropolis was almost empty. Chloe only recognized one of the three passengers, and she didn't think any of them knew her.

Or, at least, that's what she was counting on. If word got back to her father that she took a road trip when she was supposed to be home sick in bed…And it wasn't like she could explain, could she?

But she had to do this. The library in the city could give her something good old Smallville Public couldn't.

Anonymity.

Chloe slid lower in her seat and took out the morning edition of The Smallville Ledger. Again, she tried to concentrate on the front-page story.

…Natalie Baer also had blond hair and light eyes, in this case, blue. She was 20 years old, 5 feet 4 inches tall and had a slight build. She seems to have encountered her assailant sometime after leaving her last class at Metropolis University on Monday afternoon. And, like Rachel Halliday, Natalie Baer was also strangled.

While police refuse to comment, the similarities between the two murders have already caused some to…

Usually, this kind of story grabbed her complete attention. But, today, she found her attention wandering. And her bloodshot eyes drifted away from the paper to stare out the window.

She was so tired. No big surprise. She'd spent the night pacing her bedroom as she quietly freaked out. For hours, her mind raced as she tried to find a logical explanation for what happened to her.

But there just wasn't one. There was no way to explain it.

It would have been one thing if she'd fallen down the stairs and simply didn't get hurt. Yeah, it was hard to believe, but stuff like that happened. Heck, the Inquisitor had a weekly column called "They Survived the Unsurvivable."

But she'd heard her neck break.

As the sound of that CRACK echoed through her mind, Chloe shivered. Chills raced up her spine, and goose bumps sprang up on her arms. She would never forget that moment. Her head twisting to the side. A sharp pain. Her body going numb.

And that CRACK.

And even if she could convince herself that that vivid memory was a creation of her fertile imagination, there was one thing she couldn't ignore.

Her cold. The cold that made her feel like crap yesterday, but was now completely gone. Not a sniffle. Not a cough. Not an ache. It was almost like she'd never been sick at all.

But Chloe knew better.

Something was going on with her. Something weird. Something she couldn't explain.

And what did she do when faced with something she couldn't explain?

She investigated. Researched. Looked for a logical answer. Because there always was one, if you knew where to find it.

The Smallville Public Library was out, not to mention the one at school. Okay, so she could've started her research on the Internet. But, truth was, she wanted to get out of Smallville, if only for a couple of hours. As crowded as her head was, she needed space.

She'd thought about asking Clark to come with her. But asking Clark to ditch school would feel like contributing to the delinquency of a minor or something. Besides, a huge part of her didn't want anyone to know what was going on. At least, not until she knew herself.

Chloe sighed and let her head fall back to rest against the seat. Closing her eyes, she fell into an uneasy sleep.

____________________

The city bus dropped her off a few blocks away from the library.

Chloe hitched her purse strap over her shoulder and started down the busy street. Well, busy compared to Smallville. It was actually pretty tame at this time of day, with most people already at school or work. But she'd gotten used to the slower pace of rural life…in spite of herself. During her summer internship at The Daily Planet, it took a while to get used to the way everyone seemed to hurry everywhere. Strange, since she grew up in the city. But, whether she liked it or not, a part of her was now very much "small town girl."

As she walked past a bakery, Chloe stopped to admire the pastries on display in the window. She hadn't been in the mood for breakfast this morning. In fact, she still wasn't really hungry. But the way her mouth watered at the sight of the chocolate éclair told her it was almost time.

Deciding to make a little snack stop before she headed home, Chloe started to move on…

And that's when she felt it.

It was like someone shoved the thinnest needle ever invented in one temple and out the other. The pain was so sharp, so sudden, she staggered, and had to put her hand against the building to catch her balance.

By the time she pressed one hand to her temple, the pain was gone. And it was replaced by this…electric hum. Like a thousand voices whispering in each ear. Not pain, exactly. Not dizziness. But close to both.

Taking a deep breath, Chloe turned to rest her back against the stone wall.

And that's when she saw him. A man standing across the street, staring at her.

What was strange was that, as soon as she saw him, that electric hum…vanished.

Chloe frowned as she studied the stranger. He was in his mid thirties, and had sandy brown hair. And he wore a long overcoat, despite the fact that it wasn't that cold out today.

There was a look of confusion on his face. Like maybe he knew her from somewhere but couldn't place her. Or…something.

Suddenly, a delivery truck passed between them, blocked her view for a moment. And, when the truck was gone…so was he.

Chloe blinked in disbelief. Where did he go?

As she stood erect, her eyes searched the busy street for the man in the long overcoat. But he was well and truly gone.

Sighing, Chloe Sullivan closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. When, exactly, had she stepped into the Twilight Zone?

____________________

William Merrick watched the young woman enter the library.

She was quite beautiful, wasn't she? Even from a distance, she seemed fresh and energetic. Full of life. So young, and innocent.

Of course, it was very possible that she was twice his age, and ten times more experienced. But he didn't think so. She'd felt new. True, those feelings couldn't always be trusted. He'd heard that the great Duncan MacLeod himself once mistook a woman centuries old for a newbie.

But, in this case, Merrick was almost certain. She'd seemed genuinely surprised by the buzz, as if she had no idea what it was. Or what it meant.

And, from the clothing she wore—jeans, t-shirt, a light jacket—he doubted there was a weapon anywhere on her person. Hardly prudent in a city this large, full of strangers.

Full of us, he thought.

No, she was new. A fledging, who probably had yet to take her first Quickening.

And an easy target for any headhunter who crossed her path.

_____________________

Tapping her pen against her notepad, Chloe frowned at the books on the shelves. The section the librarian guided her to seemed to have exactly what she needed. Books on near-death experiences. Spontaneous healing. Miracles.

But this was all metaphysical, New-Agey stuff. She wanted something a little more scientific. A little more rational.

Shaking her head, Chloe turned…and ran right into the guy standing behind her.

"Oh, sorry," she muttered, and tried to walk around him.

The guy moved to block her path.

"Hey," he said, and gave her a smile that immediately set her nerves on edge. "Can't find what you're looking for?"

Chloe just managed not to roll her eyes. She could spot this type a mile away. College aged, cute enough, and convinced he was God's gift.

"Excuse me," she said, and tried to walk past him again.

And, again, he sidestepped to block her path. And, as an added bonus, he put his hand on her shoulder.

Jerk Chloe thought. Instead of knocking his hand off her shoulder—which was what she wanted to do—she took a step back. "I said 'excuse me'."

"Hey, what's the hurry?" he said. Still smiling that smile, he ran his hand through his golden blond locks. Had to make sure she noticed them, right? "You know, I spend a lot of time in this library. Maybe I can help you."

Dredging up a polite smile from somewhere, Chloe shook her head. "Thanks anyway. But I'm sure I'll be fine on my own. So…" And she gestured for him to get out of her way.

But Goldie Locks didn't take the hint. What he took was a step closer. She had to press her back against the shelves to keep his body from touching hers.

"So," he said, "are you here by yourself? I didn't see anyone else come in with you. You want to hang out?"

Figuring she'd given polite a fair chance, Chloe allowed her polite smile to transform into a glare. Because, if there was one place a person shouldn't get hit on, it was the library. Oh, and church. "Look, I don't have time for this bull…"

And that's when she felt it again. That sharp pain, followed by an electric hum.

"I believe the young lady isn't interested in your company."

And the man in the long overcoat turned the corner into the aisle.

After the last couple of days she'd had, Chloe wasn't even surprised.

Goldie Locks didn't seem happy with the interruption. He graced the new arrival with an angry sneer. "Who are you? Her father?"

"No. I'm the man who's telling you to go away." As the stranger spoke, there was a slight smile on his lips. As if he was amused by the entire situation.

But Chloe saw something in his gray eyes. Something cold and hard. Like steel.

Goldie Locks must have seen it too, because he took a quick step back. But he recovered quickly, thanks to that bravado most young males seemed to have in spades. The bravado that made their IQ's drop several points.

But it seemed Goldie Locks' IQ hadn't dropped that far.

"Whatever," he snarled. Giving Chloe a look of disgust, he walked away. Or strutted, as if to show had hadn't really been scared off by a look.

As Goldie Locks disappeared between the stacks, that hard glint in the stranger's eyes disappeared. It was replaced by genuine amusement.

Silence fell between them. Chloe supposed she should say something. Thank him for getting rid of the jerk. But she couldn't get her lips to move.

As each silent second passed, the stranger's amusement seemed to grow.

Finally, he said, with a slight, British accent, "This is the part where you ask who I am."

To tell the truth, Chloe wasn't sure she wanted to know. Because the Twilight Zone, as it turned out, wasn't a fun place to be.

But she was a reporter, and asking questions was sort of second nature. So she shrugged and asked, "Who are you?"

And the stranger's smile became a full-blown grin. "I'm William Merrick. Your new teacher."

____________________

"What's the matter, Chloe?" Merrick eyed her plate. The breakfast he'd insisted on paying for was untouched. "Not hungry?"

"Gee, I wonder why," Chloe sighed. She pretended to give it some thought. "Oh, yeah. Some strange man I've never met before just told me I'm Immortal. That I can't die. Well, not unless someone chops my head off. Sword-wielding lunatics will be coming after me for no good reason, and I have to learn to fight unless I want my Immortal life cut short. Literally." She threw up her hands. "Can't imagine why I lost my appetite."

Merrick chuckled. "You summed that up rather nicely. You must be a fine reporter."

"Thanks." With another sigh, Chloe glanced around the diner. It was a little early for the lunch crowd, so the place was almost empty. One man sat alone, reading a newspaper as he finished his meal. Two women, one with a baby, chatted over coffee and donuts. And a guy, maybe a college student, was reading a textbook, pausing every so often to take notes.

She imagined that, for them, today was pretty much like yesterday had been. Nothing life changing or bizarre had happened to them in the past 24 hours. Everything they believed about life, about themselves, hadn't been torn to shreds.

Their minds weren't numb with shock.

"I died," she whispered.

Merrick's ever-present smile became sympathetic. Understanding. "Yes," he said softly. "You did."

A shiver, a hundred shivers, raced through Chloe's body. Her heart lurched in her chest. And her eyes glistened with tears.

She'd known something…extraordinary had happened to her yesterday. But this made it different. She hadn't just been lying at the base of the stairs, unconscious as some medical miracle repaired all of her injuries. She'd been dead.

Dead.

And the only reason she hadn't still been there, a cold, lifeless corpse for her father to find when he got home from work, was because she was some kind of freak of nature.

"I died," she repeated. As if that would make it more real. As if it wasn't already real enough.

"Your first death," Merrick said. "We all have one. Until we die that first time, we're just like everyone else. We age. We get sick. Our injuries take just as long to heal as…"

"A normal person's?" Chloe said, sounding a little bitter. Imagine. Until yesterday, she'd been a normal person. Now, she was…

"Immortals are just as normal as mortals," Merrick said, a hint of steel behind the humor. Reaching across the table, he stole half of the toast from her plate. "We are as old as history. As long as there have been mortals, there have been us." He shrugged. "We're just a different kind of normal, that's all."

"Uh huh," Chloe muttered, not ready for logic just yet. She needed a chance to wallow in the self-pity for a while. To get used to being a freak. Then, she'd deal.

She studied Merrick, who'd just taken the rest of her toast. If she'd passed him on the street last week, she would have thought he was just a fairly good-looking guy in his 30's who was dressed a little too warm for this time of year. Who could know that he had a sword hidden under his overcoat? Or that he was pushing one hundred and thirty?

The scary part was that, according to Merrick, he was young as far as Immortals went.

"So, who is the oldest Immortal you've ever met?" Chloe was surprised to hear herself ask. Apparently, not even severe emotional trauma could suppress her reporter's instincts.

Shrugging, she picked up her glass.

"Well, I've never met him," Merrick said as Chloe took a sip of her orange juice. "But there's an Immortal named Methos who's about, oh, five thousand or so."

Chloe gasped, and the juice went down exactly the wrong way. As she choked and spluttered, Merrick's cheerful laughter filled the diner. And, of course, everyone turned to stare at the two crazy people causing a commotion in the corner.

As her coughing fit settled down, she glared at Merrick. He gave her a look that, she supposed, was meant to seem innocent.

"Sorry about that," he said. "Didn't mean to catch you so off guard."

Chloe wouldn't bet on it.

Suddenly, Chloe's mind started to wander. There was no way she'd believe there was a five thousand year old man running around out there somewhere. But, if there was…

Imagine what that interview would be like.

"Now," Merrick said, "tell me about this Smallville. I should know about the town I'll be calling home for the foreseeable future."

Clearing her throat, Chloe stared at him. She'd forgotten about that part of things. Merrick moving to Smallville to teach her how to fight. With a sword.

Of course, with everything he'd told her in the last hour or so, it was a surprise she still remembered her own name.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked. "Helping me, I mean. You don't even know me."

Merrick shrugged. "It's a tradition among our kind, I suppose. Mentoring younger Immortals is the closest we ever come to having…" Leaving the sentence unfinished, he shook his head. "Well, that's not important right now. As I was saying, when an Immortal comes across a fledgling, we sometimes take it upon ourselves to train them, to teach them how to defend themselves from headhunters. Those whose sole purpose in life is taking the Quickening of other Immortals."

The Quickening. An Immortal's life force. Their essence. Merrick had explained that, when another Immortal took your head, they absorbed your energy, which made them stronger. More powerful.

Chloe's hand caressed her neck, which felt pretty vulnerable all of a sudden. Hard to believe there was something inside her so important, other people wanted to kill her for it.

Hesitantly, Chloe asked Merrick. "H-have you ever? Taken someone's Quickening, I mean."

And Merrick's ever-present good cheer seemed to vanish. "Yes, I have. Several, in fact. And so will you."

Chloe felt herself pale. No way! Okay, she could see learning to fight. If these lunatics, these headhunters, were going to come after her, she had to be able to defend herself, right?

But there was no way she was cutting off another human being's head.

Are we human? a tiny voice whispered in her head, and she grew a shade more pale. As her stomach turned, she was glad she hadn't eaten anything.

"Fortunately, you're less likely to run into an Immortal where we're going than in a big city like Metropolis." Merrick's smile returned. "I've never taken on a student before. Should be interesting." He leaned across the table. "So, tell me about this little town of yours."

Swallowing hard, Chloe wrapped her shaking hands around her glass. Then, she took a deep breath and told her new mentor about Smallville.

(TO BE CONTINUED)