CHAPTER 32
Beth thought she heard Cassie crying, but when she woke up in the dead of night, her daughter was sleeping soundly in her crib.
Pulling on her robe and slipping into her sneakers, she walked to the large glass doors that led out to the balcony. She opened the drapes to reveal the white mountains sparkling bright in the moonlight. Ordinarily Beth would find the sight breathtaking, but as she carefully slipped through the door so the cold air wouldn't awaken the baby, she only found it cold and stark and silent.
She'd wondered at first why Garrett would leave this door unsecure and allow her the freedom to walk out onto the balcony, but after looking over the edge she knew he had nothing to fear. Below the balcony was a sheer cliff with jagged, snow covered rocks at the bottom. And then there were the guards that patrolled the property.
She wrapped her arms around herself as she walked to the white stone railing. The tears streamed down her face as she stared at the cold emptiness in front of her. For a long time she simply stared into the distance, oblivious to anything around her. But then as the emotions began to rise in her heart, she vocalized her desperation. "Adam you've got to find us." She whispered into the frigid air. "Cassie and I need you. I'm so scared of what he's going to do. I'm scared I'm going to mess up and he's going to take her away from me . from us. Please Adam . hurry. I'm so scared, so scared." Her words became deep sobs as she knelt with her head against the stone railing and cried uncontrollably.
From the balcony above Garrett watched as she broke down. He couldn't hear her words, but he could imagine. She was pining away for Adam Pierson, and as long as the immortal was alive Garrett knew he would be standing like a block of stone between he and the family he knew he must make with Leandra and Cassie.
Turning away from the sight, Garrett went inside and called Rick.
"Why are you in such a rush?" Rick asked. "It's only been a week for God's sake. Did you expect it to be a case of out of sight, out of mind?"
"It's going to take her a long time to get over Pierson, but it would help if he were dead."
"You don't want to use the plan too soon. It will only be believable if she has time to feel the distance." Rick replied before hanging up the phone.
On the other side of the world, Methos lay in an exhausted and drink enhanced slumber. It was the middle of the day, but in his small, dark hotel room, the sound of the vendors and traffic in the street didn't reach his ears.
But Beth's face and her cry for help did. In his dreams he could see her shivering in the cold, surrounded by a block of ice that imprisoned her. And yet inside, her arms reached out to him and her voice called him to come to her.
Methos awoke in a cold sweat. His dream had been so real. He had heard Beth calling to him and had seen the pain in her face and the tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Damn her." He raged as he reached for the empty bottle of tequila, hurling it against the wall when it didn't give him what he wanted. He lay back down on the bare mattress for a restless half hour before admitting to himself he couldn't fall back to sleep . not without help.
He had to get out of this room and what better reason than to pick up more bottles of the only thing that could numb him to the pain.
Shrugging on his duster, he checked to be sure the spare sword was tucked securely in it's lining. He didn't bother making himself look presentable. He knew he looked like hell and for all he cared the whole world could see it and be damned.
Squinting his eyes against the midday sun, Methos strode into the marketplace. He followed the narrow streets lined with vendors selling everything from colorful yarn dolls and blankets to vegetables and dried flowers. Hearing the familiar sound of a cantina, he turned the corner and found not one cantina, but a whole end of town that seemed to be lined with them.
"Good." He thought to himself. "If I drink my way through one I can simply follow my thirst next door."
Light filtered through the dirty windows of the first cantina, bathing the room in a muggy haze. The bartender didn't seem to notice as Methos propped himself on one of the stools at the end of the bar, but one of the senorita's working the room did.
"Buy me a drink senor?" she said as she snaked an arm across his shoulders and smiled seductively.
"Not likely." He replied in an annoyed tone, shrugging her away and looking toward the bartender who was now noticing him.
"I'd like a bottle, a glass and to be left alone. If you can make that happen I'll make it worth your while. If not I will take my pocketful of American dollars and go elsewhere." He said in perfect Spanish.
"Margarita . " the bartender looked sharply in her direction and jerked his head toward the back room, letting her know to leave the man alone.
Methos had only finished his second drink when he felt the presence of another immortal. Looking up from his glass, he watched as the stranger stood motionless, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the low light so he could better see who had arrived before him.
The man wore expensive clothes that fit him perfectly, and appeared to mentally scoff Methos' bedraggled appearance. Of course that may or may not have been the case. But it was as good an excuse as any to dislike him.
When the man saw the cold glint in his eyes, he decided he wasn't that thirsty after all and turned to go. Methos watched him leave and then laid a large bill on the bar before telling the bartender to hold his bottle, he would be back.
The stranger felt Methos following him and increased his pace, unwittingly taking himself further and further from the center of town and into an area where no one would notice and no one would care.
At first Methos didn't know why he felt compelled to follow, but as he smelled the fear and uncertainty wash over the stranger when he tried to flea, he knew exactly why. He needed to feel the power that only comes from holding another life in your hands. He'd let himself fall victim to the pain of losing everything he held dear and now wanted to wield that kind of power over another.
"I have no quarrel with you" the fair skinned stranger said as he held his hands up to show he didn't want to fight.
"Your mere existence says otherwise." Methos replied calmly as he held his sword in both hands and moved it in a snakelike arc around his body.
"I don't want to fight you."
"You can always run. But I will find you." Methos shrugged his indifference.
The man knew he had no choice. He squinted against the sun that shone behind Methos form, making the ancient immortal look almost like a shadowed phantom as he moved closer.
Raising his sword, the stranger took a stance and prepared for the attack he knew would come.
Methos smirked at the fear he saw on the man's face. It was almost pathetic how unprepared this one was. It seemed hardly worth his time. He struck his blade again and again against the flat of the unprepared immortal's sword.
"Have you not been taught?" he taunted when after only a few swings of his sword, he managed to knock the man off balance and into a pile of wooden crates.
"I've never been challenged. I only came here for vacation. My teacher said I wasn't ready." The man almost whimpered, which only served to enrage Methos more. He had no patience for weakness.
"Your teacher was right." Methos grunted as he literally severed the man's sword hand from his body with one powerful strike, smiling when he realized the replacement sword served him well.
The man screamed in pain, but before he could even grab the pulsing stump, Methos swung again, slicing across his stomach. The sight of the blood and the younger immortal trying to decide whether to hold his stump or his emptying entrails as he fell to his knees sent a rush through the ancient one like he hadn't felt in a thousand years.
"Can I . Can I at least know" the man struggled to speak, but the pain and loss of blood made it almost impossible. "Who are you and why you do this?" he gasped as he finished.
"I am Death." Methos replied firmly, swinging to sever the man's head from his body the instant his words fell on his ears. "And I do this because it pleases me."
The quickening that followed was pathetic in its lack of power, but for Methos it was the start of a fix he knew he needed to find purpose and direction. And it would have been perfect except for one thing. As the electricity ripped through his body he could swear he felt a hand clasped tightly with his own, fingers interlaced as they had been once before when Beth joined him in the Quickening.
He screamed his protest, cursing his own subconscious for making her a part of this. He focused his mind inside himself and forced her presence from his thoughts.
Beth sat straight up in bed, her body pulsating with a strange kind of unnerving warmth. The presence both frightened her and yet somehow comforted her as well. Her hand had fisted in the covers, and for a brief instant she almost felt as if she were clutching Adam's hand. She held it up and saw the fading imprints that told her this was much more than a dream.
Beth thought she heard Cassie crying, but when she woke up in the dead of night, her daughter was sleeping soundly in her crib.
Pulling on her robe and slipping into her sneakers, she walked to the large glass doors that led out to the balcony. She opened the drapes to reveal the white mountains sparkling bright in the moonlight. Ordinarily Beth would find the sight breathtaking, but as she carefully slipped through the door so the cold air wouldn't awaken the baby, she only found it cold and stark and silent.
She'd wondered at first why Garrett would leave this door unsecure and allow her the freedom to walk out onto the balcony, but after looking over the edge she knew he had nothing to fear. Below the balcony was a sheer cliff with jagged, snow covered rocks at the bottom. And then there were the guards that patrolled the property.
She wrapped her arms around herself as she walked to the white stone railing. The tears streamed down her face as she stared at the cold emptiness in front of her. For a long time she simply stared into the distance, oblivious to anything around her. But then as the emotions began to rise in her heart, she vocalized her desperation. "Adam you've got to find us." She whispered into the frigid air. "Cassie and I need you. I'm so scared of what he's going to do. I'm scared I'm going to mess up and he's going to take her away from me . from us. Please Adam . hurry. I'm so scared, so scared." Her words became deep sobs as she knelt with her head against the stone railing and cried uncontrollably.
From the balcony above Garrett watched as she broke down. He couldn't hear her words, but he could imagine. She was pining away for Adam Pierson, and as long as the immortal was alive Garrett knew he would be standing like a block of stone between he and the family he knew he must make with Leandra and Cassie.
Turning away from the sight, Garrett went inside and called Rick.
"Why are you in such a rush?" Rick asked. "It's only been a week for God's sake. Did you expect it to be a case of out of sight, out of mind?"
"It's going to take her a long time to get over Pierson, but it would help if he were dead."
"You don't want to use the plan too soon. It will only be believable if she has time to feel the distance." Rick replied before hanging up the phone.
On the other side of the world, Methos lay in an exhausted and drink enhanced slumber. It was the middle of the day, but in his small, dark hotel room, the sound of the vendors and traffic in the street didn't reach his ears.
But Beth's face and her cry for help did. In his dreams he could see her shivering in the cold, surrounded by a block of ice that imprisoned her. And yet inside, her arms reached out to him and her voice called him to come to her.
Methos awoke in a cold sweat. His dream had been so real. He had heard Beth calling to him and had seen the pain in her face and the tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Damn her." He raged as he reached for the empty bottle of tequila, hurling it against the wall when it didn't give him what he wanted. He lay back down on the bare mattress for a restless half hour before admitting to himself he couldn't fall back to sleep . not without help.
He had to get out of this room and what better reason than to pick up more bottles of the only thing that could numb him to the pain.
Shrugging on his duster, he checked to be sure the spare sword was tucked securely in it's lining. He didn't bother making himself look presentable. He knew he looked like hell and for all he cared the whole world could see it and be damned.
Squinting his eyes against the midday sun, Methos strode into the marketplace. He followed the narrow streets lined with vendors selling everything from colorful yarn dolls and blankets to vegetables and dried flowers. Hearing the familiar sound of a cantina, he turned the corner and found not one cantina, but a whole end of town that seemed to be lined with them.
"Good." He thought to himself. "If I drink my way through one I can simply follow my thirst next door."
Light filtered through the dirty windows of the first cantina, bathing the room in a muggy haze. The bartender didn't seem to notice as Methos propped himself on one of the stools at the end of the bar, but one of the senorita's working the room did.
"Buy me a drink senor?" she said as she snaked an arm across his shoulders and smiled seductively.
"Not likely." He replied in an annoyed tone, shrugging her away and looking toward the bartender who was now noticing him.
"I'd like a bottle, a glass and to be left alone. If you can make that happen I'll make it worth your while. If not I will take my pocketful of American dollars and go elsewhere." He said in perfect Spanish.
"Margarita . " the bartender looked sharply in her direction and jerked his head toward the back room, letting her know to leave the man alone.
Methos had only finished his second drink when he felt the presence of another immortal. Looking up from his glass, he watched as the stranger stood motionless, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the low light so he could better see who had arrived before him.
The man wore expensive clothes that fit him perfectly, and appeared to mentally scoff Methos' bedraggled appearance. Of course that may or may not have been the case. But it was as good an excuse as any to dislike him.
When the man saw the cold glint in his eyes, he decided he wasn't that thirsty after all and turned to go. Methos watched him leave and then laid a large bill on the bar before telling the bartender to hold his bottle, he would be back.
The stranger felt Methos following him and increased his pace, unwittingly taking himself further and further from the center of town and into an area where no one would notice and no one would care.
At first Methos didn't know why he felt compelled to follow, but as he smelled the fear and uncertainty wash over the stranger when he tried to flea, he knew exactly why. He needed to feel the power that only comes from holding another life in your hands. He'd let himself fall victim to the pain of losing everything he held dear and now wanted to wield that kind of power over another.
"I have no quarrel with you" the fair skinned stranger said as he held his hands up to show he didn't want to fight.
"Your mere existence says otherwise." Methos replied calmly as he held his sword in both hands and moved it in a snakelike arc around his body.
"I don't want to fight you."
"You can always run. But I will find you." Methos shrugged his indifference.
The man knew he had no choice. He squinted against the sun that shone behind Methos form, making the ancient immortal look almost like a shadowed phantom as he moved closer.
Raising his sword, the stranger took a stance and prepared for the attack he knew would come.
Methos smirked at the fear he saw on the man's face. It was almost pathetic how unprepared this one was. It seemed hardly worth his time. He struck his blade again and again against the flat of the unprepared immortal's sword.
"Have you not been taught?" he taunted when after only a few swings of his sword, he managed to knock the man off balance and into a pile of wooden crates.
"I've never been challenged. I only came here for vacation. My teacher said I wasn't ready." The man almost whimpered, which only served to enrage Methos more. He had no patience for weakness.
"Your teacher was right." Methos grunted as he literally severed the man's sword hand from his body with one powerful strike, smiling when he realized the replacement sword served him well.
The man screamed in pain, but before he could even grab the pulsing stump, Methos swung again, slicing across his stomach. The sight of the blood and the younger immortal trying to decide whether to hold his stump or his emptying entrails as he fell to his knees sent a rush through the ancient one like he hadn't felt in a thousand years.
"Can I . Can I at least know" the man struggled to speak, but the pain and loss of blood made it almost impossible. "Who are you and why you do this?" he gasped as he finished.
"I am Death." Methos replied firmly, swinging to sever the man's head from his body the instant his words fell on his ears. "And I do this because it pleases me."
The quickening that followed was pathetic in its lack of power, but for Methos it was the start of a fix he knew he needed to find purpose and direction. And it would have been perfect except for one thing. As the electricity ripped through his body he could swear he felt a hand clasped tightly with his own, fingers interlaced as they had been once before when Beth joined him in the Quickening.
He screamed his protest, cursing his own subconscious for making her a part of this. He focused his mind inside himself and forced her presence from his thoughts.
Beth sat straight up in bed, her body pulsating with a strange kind of unnerving warmth. The presence both frightened her and yet somehow comforted her as well. Her hand had fisted in the covers, and for a brief instant she almost felt as if she were clutching Adam's hand. She held it up and saw the fading imprints that told her this was much more than a dream.