By evening my buddies and I had recovered from our shock and settled down to watch the news reports. According to geologists, the Catskills had experienced a small quake - its epicenter near, or perhaps directly under, the monastery of the Brothers of the Holy Covenant. A spokesman for the order, a Brother Matthew, was interviewed on two channels. He said piously that thanks to the intercession of a loving God, they'd sustained no injuries and only minor damage.

Jin pointed out that this guy was undoubtedly Matthew Hale. Knowing he was no more a monk than we were, we cheerfully hissed and booed his acting. But in truth, he was pretty darn good.

We had to quit horsing around when Jacob joined us. He took a quick look at the TV, gave a self-satisfied nod, and shut it off.

"This day has brought more rewards than I expected," he told us. "My only goals were to get MacLeod out of the Sanctuary and torture him while I was doing it. That plan succeeded admirably.

"But now I'm learning that the Immortals whose heads I took were older and stronger than I'd dared to hope. If they'd had time to shake off the drugs, some of those men could have killed us using only their minds! They wouldn't even have needed to break their cuffs - though they could have done that, too." His lip curled in a cruel smile. "When I've fully absorbed those Quickenings, I'll be the most powerful individual who's ever lived."

Cracker Bob said, "That's awesome."

We all murmured agreement. For once, I reflected, that overused word was appropriate.

But my own choice would have been "terrifying."

Carlos spoke up and asked, "Do you mean to kill on holy ground again?"

Jacob seemed surprised by the question. "Of course," he said idly. "There's no penalty." Then his eyes narrowed. "All holy ground is profaned by Immortals who cower there. One who sought them out and killed them would be cleansing it...like Christ driving the money changers from the Temple."

I'm no Bible scholar, but I knew Christ didn't kill those money changers. In the Temple or anywhere else.

x

x

x

Jacob's announcement had put a damper on the conversation. So he took an unresisting Faith by the hand, pulled her to her feet, and led her off toward his room.

I had never received a Quickening, but I recalled Jin telling me they make you horny.

So, I thought, there is some justice in the world. Faith might have been spared the grueling day we'd had, but her night would be ten times more exhausting.

A couple of the guys snickered. Jin looked sorrowful. I don't think he was in love with Faith; if he was, he wouldn't have admitted it even to himself. But he was the only one of us who viewed her as some kind of lady, and truly sympathized with her grudge against Duncan MacLeod.

x

x

x

It was only half past ten, but most of us were tired enough to think about bed.

Jacob had furnished a luxurious bedroom for himself, and an almost equally fancy one - connecting, of course - for Faith. They also had a private bath, complete with tub and shower.

Jacob kept his door locked at night. I suspected that when he let down his guard in sleep, even Faith was on the other side of a locked door.

Probably one that could only be locked from his side.

The rest of us had to sleep in a single room. Our bathroom was at the end of a long corridor, and had only a toilet and handbasin. No showers for us. Hell, if we'd walked just a little farther, we could have used one of the many holes in the floor and relieved ourselves directly into the sewer system.

That night I thought of going out and peeing in the alley, then taking a walk - just to give myself a break from the presence of other Immortals. We could sense each other throughout the safe section of the building, and it felt stifling at times. I fantasized about that walk maybe bringing me to a brothel, so Jacob wouldn't be the only one getting some action.

But in the end I was too lazy to do it, and I plodded down the hall to use the facilities.

I came fully alert when I heard a murmur behind that closed door.

Someone having a private conversation in the bathroom? Why? We'd never kept secrets from one another. And there definitely wasn't any sexual hanky-panky going on - we were all straight. We'd been together long enough to leave no doubt about that.

Then I remembered I'd left Jin, Bob and Winston asleep. If Carlos was in the john, he was alone. He had to be listening to a radio, a CD player or something.

So he expected to sit for a while. Some people bring books, some radios. No big deal.

I almost turned away, headed for a hole in the floor or that alley.

But then the voice behind the door spoke up a little louder. "I couldn't give you no warning! Jacob didn't give us none."

Carlos wasn't listening to the radio. He was talking on a cell phone.

What in God's name was he saying?

x

x

x

I pressed an ear to the door. My heart was pounding so I almost expected Carlos to hear it.

"Yeah, MacLeod was definitely there. An' Jacob didn't kill him... No, I can't swear he didn't stay an' wait for the Watchers, but Jacob seemed sure he wouldn't. Left him a motorcycle... Oh shit, I never thought o' that! You think they'll be after him?...

"Not yet, not a clue. I'll let you know when I do. But Jacob's crazy, man. Thinks he's gonna be the most powerful Immortal what ever lived...

"No, I'm not tryin' to put the bite on you for more money. He really is dangerous, an' I don't know whether I'm more scared to leave him or to stay. But it ain't about money now. This guy's a threat to the world...

"Right. Soon as I know an' can get away to use the phone, you'll know."

It sounded as if he was close to signing off, so I beat a hasty retreat. I still needed to pee, but I knew the only safe course was to hold it. I raced back to our room, and when Carlos strolled in I appeared to be sound asleep.

In fact, I lay awake all night.

x

x

x

Next day I let myself hope Jacob would forget about Connor MacLeod for a generation or so. But I knew better than to expect it.

So I wasn't surprised when we found him on the computer, hacking into Joe Dawson's latest report.

"Ahh." A smile spread slowly across his face. "Duncan has left Paris. He's on his way here, after a stopover in London for some reason. To get funds, perhaps?

"According to Dawson, he's just coming to New York because the tenth anniversary of his teacher's disappearance has him down in the dumps. Wants to visit the antique shop and loft again, look for clues, so forth and so on. But we know what's really going on."

"We do?" Bob sounded confused.

"Connor must have gotten in touch with him," Jacob explained. His eyes were glittering in anticipation. "Probably didn't want to draw him into this, but had to because he needs money. We can assume they've made plans to meet at the loft that was Connor's home, so we'll be there to ambush whoever arrives first.

"And then...I think the time has come to reveal my identity. After that, I'll make Connor watch while I kill his precious student. Kill him slowly."

I knew that by kill, he meant murder.

During the last decade, the younger MacLeod had become one of the most powerful living Immortals. The Quickenings Jacob had taken in the Sanctuary - not yet fully assimilated - might or might not have made him strong enough to defeat him in a fair fight.

But Jacob wouldn't take a chance on that. Wouldn't even exert himself, because his pride wasn't involved. Fanatic that he was, he saw Duncan only as someone whose death would hurt Connor. All Duncan's Immortality meant to him was that he'd have to be murdered in a different way than Brenda or Rachel.

He advanced to the next screen. "More good news. Dawson isn't coming with him." When Duncan didn't want a friend joined at the hip, Dawson often trusted him to Watch himself. It was the only way to handle a relationship like theirs. Normally, the odds were overwhelmingly against the Highlander's being killed. If one day he was, the other Immortal would have a Watcher who'd report it.

Unless the other Immortal was Jacob Kell.

"He's not asking anyone in New York to Watch him," Jacob mused. "So Dawson must really believe it's a routine trip. And that means we won't have to deal with Duncan's leading Watchers to us."

I glanced at Carlos, saw him taking it all in.

Who the hell was he working for? Not the Watchers...the police?

x

x

x

I couldn't take not knowing. So I kept an eye on him till he drifted off to the bathroom. Then I followed him and listened at the door again.

He was on the phone, but keeping his voice lower. He had the brains to know he wasn't as safe during the day.

I hung in there while he mumbled unintelligibly. There was a long pause while the person on the other end was talking. Then Carlos's voice rose; he let out a string of oaths.

At last he said, "I'll take care of it... No, don't think about payin' me. Things have gone too far. Someone's gotta take a stand."

I strained to hear what would come next.

Turned out that was unnecessary. What came next was Carlos's opening the door.

I practically fell into his arms.

x

x

x

I don't know which of us was more scared. But I got the door closed, both of us in the bathroom. Then I blurted out, "I won't tell on you."

After a long silence, he said, "How much did you hear?"

"Not much," I admitted. I kept my voice no louder than a whisper. "But I got a little last night too. I know you're working with someone against Jacob. I can't fight him myself, and I don't dare walk out on him. But I'm sure as hell not happy with what he did in the Sanctuary. Especially his risking all our lives.

"I won't say anything, but I have to know. Who are you working for? Have you been a mole all along?"

"From the start? Hell, no." He was shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "An' later, all I was thinkin' of was pickin' up a little extra money. The dude just wanted information. It wasn't like he was after my teacher's head."

"Who?"

He sighed. "Another Immortal. Name of Adam Pierson."

Once that much was out, Carlos seemed to relax. I think he was glad, finally, to have someone to confide in. "I've only met this Pierson guy once. British - leastways he's got a British accent. I get the impression he's pretty old, so maybe he didn't always talk like he does now.

"His interest in this is that he's a friend o' Duncan MacLeod. He's been payin' me for a couple years, since he got wind o' Jacob's searchin' for Connor. I was just keepin' him informed. He wanted to be sure Jacob didn't get so antsy that he'd go after his pal Duncan."

I felt a chill. "Does Pierson seem willing to fight Jacob? As a last resort?"

"Maybe. But he's never wanted to. He said he'd quit takin' heads for a few centuries, mostly to shake the Watchers. He has fought an' killed some recently. But he's not as solid with his sword skills as he woulda been five hundred years ago."

"So you told him about the Sanctuary," I prodded.

"Yeah. He knew it existed. He'd never mentioned it before, but when I called last night, he said he'd guessed Connor was there.

"He was as freaked out as us to learn that nothin' much happens when you kill on holy ground. But then he thought about somethin' we hadn't. He said he knows the Watchers well, an' they'll do anything to keep this under wraps. To protect the idea of holy ground as a safe refuge. They'll kill anyone who's learned the truth, even their old friend Connor MacLeod."

I sat down hard. On the toilet. "Jesus."

"Plus," Carlos continued, "he's checked with a few contacts since yesterday. He's sure they've figured out which Immortal wasn't beheaded, an' who was behind the raid. The top Watcher brass had known all along that Jacob has it in for MacLeod, wants to hurt an' not kill him. An' none o' the other Immortals had enemies still alive."

I needed a minute to absorb that. "You're saying...the Watchers knew about Jacob? They could have told MacLeod who his enemy was, so he could fight him! But they kept him in the dark and let him throw his life away. Urged him into their damn Sanctuary - that was just as much 'interfering' as telling him about Jacob would have been."

"Shit," Carlos muttered. "I hadn't thought it through, but you're right. The sick bastards!"

Neither of us was a fan of Connor MacLeod. We believed he'd brought his woes on himself by his long-ago murder of a priest. But we were revolted by the Sanctuary. We could appreciate the sacrifice MacLeod had made in consigning himself to that eternal limbo - as he thought, to protect the innocent. And we were appalled at the Watchers' having encouraged him to do it when they knew - and he did not - that it wasn't the only solution to his problem.

As events had shown, it wasn't even the best solution.

I made myself focus on the crisis at hand. "You've told Pierson Jacob finally is planning to kill Duncan?"

Carlos scowled. "Yep. Pierson's in London - it was him Duncan stopped off to see. An' would you believe, Jacob was wrong! Duncan hadn't heard from Connor. It was like Dawson said - he was headed to New York to poke around the loft an' look for clues he mighta missed before.

"He'd already left Pierson's place by the time I called. Pierson tried to stop him from comin' over here. Didn't want him gettin' whacked by a dirty fighter, or Watchers protectin' their new secret. So he told him what went down at the Sanctuary, without namin' Jacob. Said he thought Connor had been there, an' if so, there was no chance he could be alive." He gave a bemused shake of his head. "Duncan seems to take for granted that Pierson knows all kinds o' stuff, just 'cause he's old. But he wouldn't change his plans."

I shuddered. "So now what? Jacob will murder him even if Connor doesn't show up at the loft. Connor will be sure to hear about it."

"So now," Carlos said quietly, "it's up to me.

"I've gotta keep Jacob from killin' Duncan MacLeod."

x

x

x

Our stakeout of the ruined loft wasn't set to begin till the next day, Sunday. Jacob said that if Duncan went there from the airport he'd arrive after nightfall; the place was without electricity, and it would make no sense for the MacLeods to stumble around in the dark. I thought privately that if they really were meeting, they would have chosen Duncan's hotel - it wouldn't have been that hard for him to let Connor know where he'd be staying. But Duncan was undoubtedly going to the loft, and he'd walk right into Jacob's trap.

I had a lot of time to worry.

I'd promised Carlos I wouldn't rat on him. I didn't want to see Duncan dead any more than he did. But I made it clear he couldn't count on me for help. In fact, I wished I'd never learned about his double life.

I was afraid of Jacob - and not only because I now harbored a guilty secret. I couldn't forget that he'd endangered all of us by killing on holy ground. Sure, he'd done it once before. But he admitted he hadn't known there was never a penalty.

Beheading nine men was a hell of a way to find out.

That wasn't all. I was disturbed by his having suddenly decided to reveal his identity to Connor MacLeod. What was behind it?

Jacob boasted that he'd torment his victim for centuries to come. But in the space of fifteen years, MacLeod had lost a wife and an adopted child, and been made to feel responsible for a large-scale slaughter. Now Jacob planned to murder the one remaining person he loved. After that burst of atrocities, it would be understandable if the Highlander lived for the next five hundred years without letting anyone close to him, even in the sense of physical proximity. He wouldn't be happy - far from it - but Jacob wouldn't be able to deal him any more devastating blows. What satisfaction could Jacob find in that?

I had a feeling the game was rushing to its end - and that Jacob, deep down, knew it too. But if he killed MacLeod, what would he have left to live for?

More and more, I wondered if frustration would drive him to make some nightmarish use of those new "powers" he talked about.

x

x

x

I tried to stop fretting and concentrate as Jacob outlined his plan for Duncan. But that wasn't exactly conducive to good cheer.

Assuming the younger Highlander arrived at the antique shop before Connor - who, I knew, was unlikely to show at all - Jacob wanted Faith to wait till he was in that smashed-up loft, then walk in on him and air her grievances. He'd probably try to smooth things over. But her presence would mask the approach of other Immortals and help us fighters get the drop on him.

Bob, Carlos, Winston and I were to be stationed on the roof next door, on motorcycles - by then Jacob would have replaced the ones we'd lost. Construction was going on nearby, but on a Sunday we'd have the area to ourselves. At the appropriate time, we'd come crashing into the loft through what had once been a picture window. If a gang of four couldn't outfight Duncan - which seemed highly unlikely - Jin Ke would do his "secret weapon" bit. Then Jacob would run him through, and we'd handcuff, shackle and gag him.

When Connor showed up, we'd overpower and restrain him in much the same way - the main difference being that he'd be out of shape and easier to handle. Then we'd take our captives to a more suitable place for a Quickening, and make Connor watch while Jacob tortured Duncan and finally beheaded him.

If Connor didn't appear, Duncan would meet the same fate. Jacob would take his head before his injuries from the torture had time to heal. We'd dump the head and body - still bearing his passport and other identification - where they'd be found soon, and Connor would be sure to hear all the gory details.

I watched Faith throughout Jacob's spiel. She never breathed a word of objection - how could she, after the things she'd said about Duncan MacLeod over the years? But her face was whiter than I'd ever seen it.

I recalled that she hadn't been able to bring herself to kill Duncan's woman. Or had she simply lacked opportunity? Tessa Noel had lived less than a year after Faith learned of her existence; then she'd been shot and killed by a mugger. She and Duncan had spent most of that year in Paris, while we'd been in the States.

I lost myself in the enigma that was Faith, and never let my eyes stray toward Carlos.

x

x

x

Next day, the first part of the plan unfolded as Jacob had intended. Faith distracted Duncan, and he wasn't prepared for our assault.

But nothing after that went according to script.

None of us had ever seen Duncan MacLeod in person. And the photo and description in the Watcher database didn't do him justice. We knew about his dark good looks. But we weren't expecting the sculpted, perfectly proportioned physique, the lightning-swift reflexes and catlike coordination.

We ditched the bikes and attacked him, using an inventive mix of weapons. Bob, who had a fondness for clubs, swung a baseball bat studded with spikes. Winston had two sharpened metal stakes. Carlos wielded a sword in his right hand, and had metal claws fastened to his left. I carried my blade of choice, a cutlass, in my left hand; in the right, I held a doubled length of chain for use as a whip.

Duncan was annoyed but not intimidated. He defended himself with the fastest sword moves I'd ever seen, and I knew we had a battle on our hands.

To me, at least, it seemed glaringly obvious that Carlos was holding back. I reacted in panic - threw myself into the fight more furiously than anyone else, lest Jacob associate me with him. But even as I slashed at Duncan, I loathed myself.

It didn't matter; he was hurting me way more than I was him. Then he neutralized Bob by conking him with his own bat, driving the spikes into his forehead! Bob - tough as they come - never lost consciousness, and stepped aside to work the stupid thing out of his head. But with Carlos limiting himself to smart-ass remarks and cuts that never went much beyond Duncan's clothes, Winston and I wore ourselves out - while Duncan held his own against both of us.

I found myself rooting for him. I was idiotically grateful that I could, very obviously, do my best - in case Jacob was watching - and still fail to take him down.

x

x

x

In light of our less than stellar performance, it was inevitable that Jin Ke would take the field. He made his usual dramatic entrance, and Winston proudly introduced him.

Duncan MacLeod had heard of him, and was surprised to find him in this company. He said carefully, "Some people say you're a man of honor."

Jin shot back, "What do you know of honor?"

My first thought was that he was reviling MacLeod for what he'd done to Faith.

My second was that he felt no Westerner could comprehend the sense of honor that compelled him to serve a cause he loathed.

Maybe it was a little of both.

Jin brandished a menacing steel pike. That gave him a longer reach and more striking - if not cutting - surface than Duncan's ivory-hilted katana. But the two men flew into action. And it soon became clear that despite the disparity of weapons, despite the toll the earlier combat should have taken on Duncan, they were - incredibly - evenly matched.

At last Jin paused and said very distinctly, "Honor's not in the weapon, it's in the man." He laid the pike aside.

I gasped. I saw the risk he was taking.

Duncan MacLeod was dealing with a bunch of rule-breakers, and had every reason to believe Jin was our leader. With one lunge, he could...not take Jin's head, no. Only a madman would want a Quickening in that situation.

But he could hack one of Jin's arms off and maim him forever. Our shock would give him a chance to get away.

That was what Jacob would have done.

Was it what Jin wanted?

Instead, Duncan replied courteously, "Then perhaps you are what they say." He thrust the blade of his sword into the floor and left it standing upright.

They resumed combat using only their hands, their feet - and in one way or another, every part of those leaping, twirling, magnificent bodies.

Watching them, I could almost revel in their artistry and forget that this was a dance of life and death. Until I noticed Carlos's fidgeting.

x

x

x

The struggle went on, a seemingly unresolvable draw, till a stern voice from overhead called out, "Enough!"

The combatants stopped at once. Jin Ke gave Duncan a little bow that seemed to say, "I apologize for this rude interruption." Duncan gave him a somewhat bemused bow in return.

Jacob slowly descended a staircase from wherever he'd been. He greeted Duncan, and put the blame on us for what we'd done - claimed we "lacked discipline." But I don't think Duncan doubted for a second that we'd been following orders when we attacked him.

By now Duncan was nowhere near the katana lodged in the floor; Jacob was very near it. Every man stiffened when his hand brushed suggestively against that carved ivory hilt.

I knew instinctively that the last thing Jin had intended, when he suggested they fight hand to hand, was to leave Duncan weaponless against Jacob.

I knew too that when Jacob raised his other hand, it would be a signal for us to pounce on Duncan and restrain him...for the moment it would take Jacob to gut him with his own sword.

x

x

x

But suddenly a shot rang out. And another, and another.

Whirling around in confusion, I finally located the gun - in Carlos's hand. He emptied it into Duncan MacLeod.

It looked like the gesture of a young Immortal who was still a thug at heart. Just wanting to get one more lick in before this unequal fight was over.

But the impact of so many bullets flung Duncan backward. Sent him crashing through a boarded-up second-floor window and hurtling down onto Hudson Street.

Out of Jacob's reach.

Exactly as Carlos had planned.

Brilliant.

x

x

x

None of us bothered to look out the window. We knew Duncan was "dead." But we were sure he'd come back to life and escape before anyone could get down there.

The only question was how hard Jacob would be on Carlos for what looked like a dumb mistake.

Carlos said casually, "Guess I'm not much of a swords guy."

In a voice that sent a chill through my veins, Jacob said, "I...thought...I... told...you...to...stop."

Jin gave a slight shake of his head, as if he saw something coming and didn't want to believe it.

Carlos dumped the spent casings out of his gun and replied sullenly, "Yeah, well, I stopped."

Then everything went haywire.

Next thing I knew, Jacob was all over Carlos.

Carlos made the mistake of saying, "You're crazy."

And then Jacob had his sword at his own throat, daring Carlos to "stop the madness" by killing him. Saying he surely wouldn't do it, because he was too weak - we all were - to face life without him.

Carlos didn't touch the sword, but I suspect he was less afraid of life without Jacob than of taking his Quickening. He probably wouldn't have been allowed to, anyway.

If that had been some sort of loyalty test, Carlos's passing it didn't do him any good. In the blink of an eye, Jacob whipped the sword around and had it at Carlos's throat.

And while the rest of us stood frozen in horror, he lopped our friend's head off.

The Quickening damn near destroyed what was left of the building.

x

x

x

Thanks to its being Sunday, we were able to get away before emergency vehicles arrived. But back at our hideout, Jacob's followers were still reeling.

Only two days before, he'd given us the worst shock of our lives by killing on holy ground. The worst even of Jin's life - and he was two thousand years old.

Now he'd come close to topping it.

We'd seen him kill one of his own students in a fit of pique. For the first time, I began to wonder about the half-dozen others who'd wandered off and fallen to unknown foes during my years with him.

If he'd killed them, he'd had sufficient self-restraint to keep the rest of us in the dark. No more.

As if killing Carlos - and doing it in front of us - wasn't bad enough, he'd taken the Quickening in a semi-public place in broad daylight. In New York City.

The word "crazy" didn't seem too strong.

I knew Carlos had acted deliberately to save Duncan MacLeod. But none of my friends seemed to suspect that, even now. So no one would have guessed without some prior knowledge.

I wracked my brain, and couldn't recall any sign Jacob had been suspicious before the fact. Besides, if that had been the case, he would have dealt with Carlos sooner.

No, he'd meted out death as punishment for what he thought was a simple mistake.

But now...now he had the Quickening, and knew what Carlos had really done! That would make an already paranoid man even more so.

Was he aware I'd known?

If I'd been willing to help Carlos, maybe we could have rebelled openly and defeated Jacob. But now Carlos was dead. He'd died a hero, even if all he'd accomplished was to keep Duncan alive a few more days.

As for me, I broke out in a sweat every time I felt Jacob's eyes on me.

x

x

x

I had nightmares that night.

Oddly enough, they weren't about Carlos. Or the killings in the Sanctuary. Or even about Jacob.

In my dreams I was back in 'Nam. Turning away from the wounded, high-tailing it into the jungle to save my own skin and avoid awkward questions.

But this time, I heard the men I abandoned cursing me.

x

x

x

By the next day, I'd calmed down enough to realize the news reports about what had happened were very peculiar.

A bit of background. In 1985, Connor MacLeod and a few other Immortals had gotten the notion they were the last ones, meeting in New York for the Gathering. Thinking it was some sort of grand finale, they became reckless. Most notoriously, Connor - then calling himself Russell Nash, but operating an antique shop at the same Hudson Street address - killed a rival in the parking garage of Madison Square Garden. With wrestling going on overhead! He was arrested and held for questioning. But he managed to conceal his sword before the cops picked him up, and they had to release him for lack of evidence.

Connor ultimately embraced the delusion that he'd become the last Immortal - which meant that his mysterious enemy must have died, even though he'd never identified him. That was why he felt safe in marrying Brenda Wyatt.

All that was ancient history. But I knew the New York media had gone wild during those weeks in '85, with headlines like "Police Baffled" and "Headhunters 3, Cops 0."

So I expected fresh headlines about the Quickening and decapitated body on Hudson Street. Especially since the carnage had taken place in a structure once owned by "headhunter" suspect Russell Nash.

Nope.

I finally found a small item, buried on a back page of the paper. It gave the impression some hoods had murdered one of their own in an abandoned building, probably in the course of a drug deal gone bad. They'd set a fire to cover it up, and that had led to a minor explosion. There was no mention of the body being minus a head, or of a history connected with the address.

I'd seen more passion in reports of petty burglaries. And my buddies told me the TV news segments had been just as bland.

There was only one explanation. The police had been burned by those reports of their "bafflement" in '85, and didn't want it to happen again. That meant playing down reports of beheadings. So they'd gone all out to mislead the newshounds. And the Fire Department had helped them.

I heaved a bigger sigh of relief than anyone else. Based on what Carlos had told me, the Watchers knew Jacob had been behind the Sanctuary raid. They were prepared to kill not only him, but anyone who'd learned there was no automatic reprisal for violating holy ground. They undoubtedly knew what all of us looked like.

But thanks to our unlikely allies in the NYPD, they didn't know Immortals were killing each other in New York.

x

x

x

The next three days felt like the calm before a storm. Jacob seemed unusually mild-mannered, even pleasant. Jin and Faith became noticeably withdrawn. Carlos was never mentioned.

I visited 'Nam every night.

Jacob had no trouble finding Duncan MacLeod's hotel. Duncan hadn't been back there since his adventure with us. But two unnamed friends of his had gotten to the hotel before Jacob, told the desk clerk MacLeod was taking a little side trip, and asked that his room be held for a few days. The establishment had no problem with that, since his credit was good.

The desk clerk's description made it clear one of those friends was Watcher Joe Dawson. A gray-haired man with a beard, using a cane. We all knew Dawson had two artificial legs. He'd obviously changed his mind about following Duncan to New York. But I felt confident he wouldn't tell the Society as a whole what was going on.

Jacob didn't know whether the other man was mortal or Immortal. He didn't want the nuisance of possibly tangling with an Immortal, so he didn't get within sensing range. But Dawson was easy to spot from a distance. Jacob identified the men's rental car, then planted a tracking device in it while they were in a bar.

And on Day 4, they led him to both MacLeods.

Only Faith was with Jacob that day. When they returned in the evening, she was subdued and silent; Jacob was on an adrenalin high. He told us he'd managed to avoid Dawson and his companion, and had found Duncan and Connor together. I gathered they were in a remote place that really would have been safe for a Quickening. He'd made himself known at last. Then he'd goaded the flabby Connor into a swordfight, shamed and humiliated him in front of Duncan.

He could have taken Connor's head. But he'd vowed to go on tormenting him - and keeping him alive - until they were the last two Immortals. And he'd announced that Duncan was "on borrowed time."

I could picture the noble Duncan MacLeod standing there, fuming. Aching for his friend.

Knowing that moment might be his only chance for a fair, one-on-one fight with Jacob...and he couldn't seize it without showing Connor up.

Jacob was very proud of himself.

None of us could think of anything to say.

x

x

x

That was Thursday.

By Friday we seemed to be back to marking time. Jacob hadn't mentioned any new plan for trapping Duncan.

Was that because he knew Duncan's being on guard would make it more difficult? Because he was waiting to master those old Immortals' powers? Or... because he didn't trust us?

x

x

x

If some dramatic development was needed to hurry things along, it came Friday night.

Faith went out during the evening. Everyone saw the sexy outfit she had on under her coat. Saw that she didn't return for hours.

No one said a word.

But we all knew whose bed she'd been in. And Jacob knew we knew.

x

x

x

Jacob wasn't in love with Faith. He'd taken her as his mate because she was female, handy, and physically attractive. I guessed he was passionate - and brutal - after a Quickening; Jin had told me most Immortal men are rough then, especially if they don't love their partners. But I doubt Jacob had much interest in sex at other times. In his youth, when he should have been most hot-blooded, he'd been content as a priest.

So in the larger scheme of things, the type of loyalty he demanded from Faith was the same as he required of all of us. Sexual fidelity was almost incidental.

But still, the guy was human. No man could enjoy having his underlings know his woman was sleeping around.

Or in this case, sleeping with his enemy.

x

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x

And what about Faith? She'd gone to Duncan MacLeod - a man who'd once loved her enough to want her with him forever.

She'd undoubtedly hoped to screw him, not kill him. Sure, a woman can seduce a man and then kill him in his sleep - with his own weapon, if need be. But Faith couldn't have taken a Quickening in Duncan's hotel room or, realistically, lured him anywhere else. And there would have been hell to pay if she'd whacked him - Jacob was reserving that honor for himself.

So she'd wanted sex. Or love.

The length of time she'd been there proved Duncan hadn't rebuffed her.

The obviousness of what she'd done was sure to antagonize Jacob.

And yet the damn-fool woman had come back.

Still - and forever - an enigma.

x

x

x

I grew nervous as Saturday dragged on. In my head, I kept hearing Carlos's words on the phone to Adam Pierson. "He really is dangerous, an' I don't know whether I'm more scared to leave him or to stay."

I wondered if Pierson had guessed his contact was dead. If I'd had Carlos's cell phone, I would have tried calling the last number dialed. Filled Pierson in, maybe asked this old Immortal for advice. But the phone had been in Carlos's pocket when he died.

I was on my own.

x

x

x

Late in the afternoon, something finally happened. Jacob invited all of us to an evening feast in his newly furnished dining room. He made clear it was a command performance. And we should dress up - this would be a night to remember!

I don't know whether I'm more scared to leave him or to stay...

We dressed up.

Faith had been a seamstress in her presumed-mortal days, and was now a fashion designer. Her taste ran to the outlandish, but Jacob got a charge out of having her provide our wardrobes. At least her idea of men's formal wear wasn't as gaudy as her choices for everyday. I didn't know what Jacob would be wearing, but the colors she'd picked for the rest of us were pale blue for Jin, white and gold for Bob, white and silver for Winston, cream and tan for me.

She probably had fancier names for them.

Unfortunately, the material was satin brocade. I couldn't guess in what century the cut would have been appropriate, but it sure wasn't the twenty-first. The thought went through my mind as I dressed that I'd hate to die in a getup like this.

Then I glanced at Jin, changing his clothes with the rest of us in the room we shared. I saw him hesitate for a long moment, then strap on his sword.

Going to dinner?

I don't know whether I'm more scared to leave him or to stay...

I decided to take my cutlass along too.

x

x

x

Jacob - and an expressionless Faith - greeted us at the dining room door. Jacob was decked out in black, with gold braid. Faith wore a beaded dress in the same deep copper color as her hair. That made sense, I thought; the hair color was one she'd chosen, presumably a favorite. I knew she was a natural brunette.

And then, for the first time, it occurred to me to wonder whether the choice had been hers or Jacob's.

The table setting was undoubtedly his idea, and it made all my nerve endings tingle. The table was a long one. Jacob had understandably placed himself at the head and Faith at the foot. The rest of us could sit where we chose - but all four places were set along one side of the table.

Jacob explained that he wanted us seated that way so he could stand across from us and make a little speech.

Perfectly plausible.

But I couldn't shake the image of him sweeping down that row of drugged Immortals in the Sanctuary, taking heads as he went.

I don't know whether I'm more scared to leave him or to stay...

I decided to avoid sitting at either end. That wasn't hard to do, since Jin headed straight for one end - the one near Faith. I wasn't sure whether his goal was to be close to her or as far as possible from Jacob. I dropped into the middle one of the three remaining seats. Winston beat Bob to the one next to Jacob, and Bob wound up between Jin and me.

Following Jin's lead, I stashed my weapon under the table. Within easy reach.

Then I studied the room, which was new to me. It was sparsely furnished - the table and chairs, racks of lighted candles. The scent of candle wax made it feel like a church.

But I was most interested in locating the nearest exit.

x

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x

Food was already laid out, and Jacob didn't discourage us from digging in. He made a point of recommending the wine, which he described as "an interesting new label."

I only took a few sips. It looked too much like blood.

Then I caught a glimpse of the bottle, and discovered the vintner shared Jacob's macabre sense of humor. The brand name was Cutting Edge.

Standing at the head of the table, Jacob called for attention and raised his glass. "A toast," he said solemnly. "I see tonight as a celebration of the spirit. To all of you who continue to stand by me...even those who might waver at times."

I didn't let myself change expression.

He looked down the row of faces, unctuously acknowledging each of us by name. "Winston...Manny...Cracker Bob...Jin Ke...Faith."

I met his gaze forthrightly, but without a smile or nod.

My insides were in knots.

"You are my flock!" he assured us. "You nourish my soul." Lifting the glass again, he intoned, "Do this in remembrance of...our special occasion."

A mockery of the Last Supper. And yet...I found myself wondering what kind of priest Jacob might have been. "If I'd known from the start that holy ground was a refuge all Immortals honored, I would have gone into a monastery and stayed there. Happily! The sins of my youth could have been forgiven - even my trying to kill MacLeod. But by the time I found out, it was too late."

If he'd been taught properly, if he hadn't despaired of finding redemption, he might in our day have been...not Pope, no Immortal could risk that, but a man who deserved to be Pope.

Then my thoughts strayed in another, more disturbing direction. "You nourish my soul..."

At the Last Supper, Catholics believe, Jesus gave his body and blood - in the form of bread and wine - to be consumed by the Apostles. Was this madman planning a perverted mirror image of that, a Supper in which he would consume his disciples?

He roamed down the other side of the table. "You are all part of a great journey," he told us. "A four-hundred-year quest for justice."

When he reached the end of the table, he rounded it and strode behind Jin. Headed for a wall bracket I hadn't seen before, and removed a wicked-looking sword. "And here, my friends, is the instrument of that justice. The giver and taker of creation. Blessed by Popes..." Holding it reverently, he walked back to stand opposite us. "Baptized in blood."

I wasn't sure why I was still sitting there. I found it hard to take my eyes off that sword.

"It is the living that matters, after all," Jacob said.

That sounded reasonable.

The sword sparkled in the candlelight.

"It sings like an angel," he breathed. "Just listen..."

And then the sword split in two.

Jin's gasp snapped me out of the half-trance I'd been in.

But Jacob was still holding two murderous swords, one in each hand. Were they real, or was one an illusion? If they were both really there, had my seeing only one been an illusion?

Had Jin seen what I did, or something completely different?

Whatever the truth might be, I knew Jacob was making his first use of the Sanctuary Immortals' powers.

Jin was on his feet, sword in hand.

Jacob leapt onto the table and confronted him. Towered over him, wielding those two deadly blades.

Yet no one else seemed to be moving...

Jin shook his head and lowered his sword. Even now, he couldn't fight the man who'd saved his life. Wouldn't dispute his onetime savior's right to end that life if he so desired.

Those merciless blades whipped through the air. Jin's head fell with a sickening thud, and his lifeblood spattered the table.

Jacob moved up it to stand over Bob. The blades were scarlet - dripping, reeking. I looked into my teacher's face and saw the implacable visage of Death.

He swung, committed to the strike against Bob.

And I hit the floor rolling. Grabbed my cutlass, somehow, without injuring myself.

But I didn't get to my feet till I was out the door - and didn't stop moving till the force of a distant Quickening knocked me off them again.

x

x

x

I got up and resumed running. But my mind kept playing tricks on me. One second I was pelting through a church-that-never-was, the next, crossing a battle zone in 'Nam with mortar shells exploding on all sides. I knew I had to make it to the jungle...or was it the alley? The wounded weren't just cursing now, they were clutching at my ankles. When I looked down, every one of them had the face of Carlos or Jin or Winston or Cracker Bob.

I kicked them away.

I reached the jungle, only it really was an alley. And I hid behind a dumpster, which somehow seemed appropriate, and shook like a drunk with the d-t's.

Finally, I wept. For Carlos and Jin and Winston and Cracker Bob. Maybe a little, even, for Faith.

I knew I couldn't have saved them.

I wasn't a coward, never had been. But I wasn't the stuff heroes are made of, either.

Just a survivor.

x

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x

I was also, at heart, a sane and sensible man. By the time the Quickening lightning ebbed, I'd worked through my hysteria and was thinking clearly.

No one but me had come out of the building. So Jacob had gone on to kill Winston and Faith, as I'd assumed.

Why had he done such a thing? Not to strengthen himself. Jin was the only one of us whose Quickening was worth squat.

No, Jacob had felt betrayed by Carlos, and that had made him question everyone's loyalty. He may well have shared my suspicions about Jin's having dropped his weapon with no assurance Duncan MacLeod would do the same. He came to distrust Jin, Faith, and probably me. From his point of view, killing the three of us was a sound idea. And his murdering that many followers might have alienated Winston and Bob.

Also, if the Quickenings he'd taken in the Sanctuary strengthened him as much as he expected, he'd have no more need of a gang.

But other, less rational factors played a part. His lifelong fixation on religion. His perception of himself as a harshly judged outcast. His struggle to cope with those Sanctuary Quickenings. His vendetta's seeming rush toward a climax. They all contributed to that warped Last Supper.

x

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x

If I got away, others should have been able to. If they ran, Jacob couldn't have pursued them far without being overtaken by Jin's Quickening.

Was the wine drugged? Maybe.

Was he using hypnosis, with or without the aid of drugs? Almost certainly.

But there were other possible explanations for his victims' having let themselves be slaughtered.

Cracker Bob undoubtedly thought he was being tested - and refused, till the last second, to believe his surrogate father would kill him.

Winston, facing the prospect of death, may have had a vision of it as a grand adventure. Or he may have felt that if he couldn't fight with any chance of success, it would be cowardly to flee.

He was very young.

Faith? She couldn't have reached an exit without stepping over Jin's and Bob's dead bodies. Slipping and sliding in blood.

On the other hand, she'd never appreciated her Immortality. Hell, she'd been whining about it for three hundred years. Perhaps she really did choose to die.

x

x

x

Ten minutes after my escape, it occurred to me that the Police and Fire Departments were taking their sweet time. There'd been a hundred lightning strikes, a half-dozen explosions, and as many small fires. But I had yet to hear a siren.

Saturday night. Chaos.

And I was standing in an alley, holding a cutlass that had never been properly baptized.

Jacob Kell had murdered the only real friends I'd ever had. And he wouldn't just forget about me, would he? While he was alive, I was in danger.

An Immortal is as weak as a baby for up to a half hour afterward...

I took a few tentative steps toward the building.

Up to a half hour. It varied. What if I went in there and found him fully recovered?

You take a terrible pounding, physical and mental. Sometimes you have to fight to hang onto your identity...

I knew, from Jacob's having hacked into his Watcher's Chronicle, that Duncan MacLeod had once suffered something called a Dark Quickening. He'd actually been possessed by evil entities he'd taken into himself. He'd recovered from the experience, but Dawson had never learned exactly how.

Maybe Jacob would forget about me, obsessed as he was with the MacLeods. I could get out of New York. It was a big world.

And I wasn't a hero.

I stuffed the cutlass under my ridiculous satin jacket, and began looking for a clothing store to burglarize.