CHAPTER 36
Why had Joe followed him?
Methos wasn't ready to move on, but the man's presence left him no choice. He focused his attention on the road, but his thoughts were where they had been for the two days he'd been driving . still on the beach. "He should have fought if he valued his life." He reasoned. "We fight. That is who we are. That is what we do."
The ancient immortal reasoned what he'd done had been justified, a part of the game. It was what he was created to do. But deep in his gut he knew there was no honor in taking the head of a friend who did not resist. "What do I care about honor?" Methos muttered, all the while wishing Joe hadn't witnessed the act.
"Oh bloody hell!" he looked in the rear view mirror and saw the flashing blue lights. He'd only crossed the border into Texas a half hour before, and hadn't been paying attention to his speed when the highway improved.
The last thing he needed was to give them a reason to search the car, especially with not only his sword, but Don Augustin's tucked in the folds of his duster. He pulled to the side of the highway and was just reaching for the car registration when he felt the sensation that told him the approaching officer was immortal.
It was early morning and there were no other cars in sight. Methos saw the man pause when he felt the sensation. The tall, dark haired officer's eyes narrowed and he appeared to be looking up the highway before turning to go back to his car.
When Methos saw the glint of a blade being pulled from the back, he didn't wait. He got out of his car, slipped on the duster and pulled one of the swords from the lining. Something about the way the stranger walked with confidence and the curve of the blade he carried, told Methos that this would not be an easy match.
He took a few seconds to quickly scan the area, jumping from the short embankment of the highway and down onto the flat ground below. The dirt and sand mix was rutty, and he knew he would need to be careful of his footing.
"Thinkin' of runnin' boy?" the other immortal drawled as he followed Methos.
Methos didn't respond. He held his sword in both hands as he circled around the man, noticing the gun in his holster. This could be a problem.
Seeing where his eyes fell, the man grinned. "Nervous boy?"
Methos didn't know what he hated more, the way the man called him "boy" or the cocky smirk on his face. Whichever it was, he couldn't let it get to him. He had to remain focused and he had to gain advantage . quickly.
"The name is Calvin Massey." The officer told him, annoyed when Methos only shrugged with indifference as the two continued to circle. "You aren't interested in knowing who's going to send you to hell boy?"
"Everything I need to know I will learn when I take your Quickening." Methos declared as he made the first move, swinging low and then swiveling to swipe his blade up high. Massey blocked the first and then dipped to avoid the second. He was quick, and Methos found himself staving off a flurry of powerful blows as he moved back further from the road. For several minutes he let Massey set the tone of the battle as he studied the way the man moved and looked for patterns of motion as well as possible weaknesses. His lack of aggressive moves gave Massey the impression he lacked skill.
"Maybe you should tell me who you are so I'll know what name to carve on the marker." Massey gloated as his sword tore through the side of Methos' coat, grazing him just below the ribs. The wound stung, but didn't penetrate deep enough to impede. But it had been much closer than could be allowed again.
Methos reached into the lining of his coat with his free hand and withdrew the second sword. He wasted no time attacking Massey, forcing the man to try and deflect first one blade and then the other. Massey's eyes widened when he realized Methos had not only hidden the 2nd sword, but had hidden his ability as well. He'd wasted precious energy believing the battle would be a quick one, but now with the double blade attack, Massey's confidence flickered.
Methos half expected the man to go for his gun, but the officer's arrogance was great and he continued to defend himself with the both hands gripping his own sword tightly. He was either too proud or too stupid to reach for his gun, Methos mused. Whichever, he didn't care, as long as both of the man's hands remained on that sword handle.
The sound of steel clashing against steel rang loud in the clear, cold air. Even with the second sword, Methos found himself struggling to maintain the edge. Massey was not only quick, but his balance and ability to avoid injury were some of the best he'd ever seen.
The ground became even more uneven as they battled across the stark field, and more than once both of them had to struggle to remain on their feet. And then it happened. Methos stepped in a particularly deep area of soft sand and found himself on one knee. Massey let out a loud groan as he came down with all the force he could, striking so hard that although Methos blade was quick enough to meet it, he was unable to deflect and felt the steel drive into the bone of his left shoulder.
His shoulder felt like it was burning, and for an instant Methos worried he might fall then and there, and for sure his chances of surviving were diminishing. Massey raised his sword high above his head, intending to finish it, but as he did, Methos drove the point of his sword straight up and then twisted it.
Massey cried out in pain even as he brought his blade down hard. Methos dove forward, into Massey's body to try and keep the blow he knew he could not shield against from tearing him in half. He felt the blade slice painfully into his lower back just as Massey heard the sound of a gun firing into his gut. Methos had grabbed the holster as he fell into the man, turned the gun up and firing repeatedly as he felt the severing of his own spine. He screamed in agony as he struggled to hold onto Massey by wrapping his arms around the man's waist.
Massey stared down at him in disbelief. He hadn't expected his own weapon to be used against him, especially with the injuries Methos had sustained. He fell backwards on the ground, and Methos landed on top of him, unable to move his legs.
Knowing it was going to come down to who revived first, Methos raised the gun to pump the last two shots into Massey's shocked face before he passed out. The two immortals lay contorted on the ground, their blood covered bodies a grotesque site.
The first thing Methos felt as his body came back to life, were the claws of a buzzard digging into his back. He let out a mixed cry of pain and protest, frightening the bird and it's mate, who was feasting on the obliterated face and neck of Massey. "God what a mess." He groaned as he struggled to his feet, finding his sword.
He wasted no time. He could hear traffic picking up on the highway and knew the two abandoned vehicles would draw attention. Methos raised his sword and brought it down on what was left of Massey's neck.
He knew Massey must have survived many challenges because of the sheer power of the man, but hadn't realized just how old or how many until the force of the Quickening lifted him from the ground and exploded around him. Images raced through his mind at a rapid pace, flashes of the dead immortal's life weaving itself into his brain. Massey had apparently been a Norseman in his earliest years, and a soldier in virtually every major conflict of the past 200, with centuries of battle in between.
And there in the midst of the Quickening, despite the sheer intensity of it, was the familiar feeling of his fingers laced with those of the source of his deepest pain. This time however, instead of fighting it, he actually welcomed it. Over the past weeks the sensation of her presence in the Quickenings happened again and again, prompting Methos to turn the tables on his vision. His grip on the phantom hand was crushing and in his mind he could imagine the shock Beth would feel as his rage, mixed with the power of the Quickening focused on her.
Methos fell to the ground, shaking not only with the new-found power he'd drawn from Massey, but from the vivid sound of Beth's scream that had forced him to mentally release her. He knelt with his hands on the ground as he tried to shake the agonizing cry from his mind. It had literally sent a shiver down his spine as he wondered just how much of what he'd just felt was real and how much was of his own creation. When he'd first felt her presence he thought if this really were a connection, he would make her feel some of what he'd been feeling. He'd channeled as much anger as he could in her direction. But once he heard that sound in his head, he couldn't help feeling regret. As much as he hated her, even if this weren't real, he could not follow through. To cause her pain meant to slice into his own heart, and real or not, it sickened him.
-----------------
Garrett heard Beth scream and rushed up the stairs, knocking the door off its hinges as he forced himself into her room. He found her kneeling on the floor, clutching her hand and crying in agony.
"Good God what have you done?" he asked as Helen came in behind him to pick a frightened and upset Cassie from her crib. Beth tried to pull away from him, but Garrett wouldn't let her. He looked at her hand and the bruising.
"Why would you do this to yourself Lea?" he asked, but Beth had no answer. She hadn't done it, but even if she could have explained, she wouldn't.
A couple of the guards rushed into the villa. Garrett heard them and told them everything was fine, sending them away.
Turning back to look at Beth, he saw her eyes were wide, wide with fright, and there was something else he couldn't quite read. She was obviously upset, but he couldn't figure out why. Even on the worst days after he'd first taken her, she'd never been this upset. She'd been angry and depressed, but never truly afraid of him.
As her heart rate began to regulate and the sensation disappeared, Beth took several deep, cleansing breaths and pulled her hand away from his. "I'll be fine." She said, dismissing him. "You can go now, both of you."
Garrett didn't like her tone. She'd scared the living daylights out of him with her screams, and now she was trying to act as if it were nothing. His eyes narrowed as he looked at her.
"You thought I'd take you to a hospital if you hurt yourself didn't you?" he accused.
Again Beth didn't respond, which only made him believe he was correct.
"Take Cassie downstairs." He ordered Helen. Beth tried to protest, but he shushed her with a stern look and a promise that if she didn't cooperate he would have Helen take over permanent care of the baby.
"You wouldn't." she whispered.
"I'll do whatever is necessary to keep her safe and happy." He replied.
"If that were true you wouldn't have taken us in the first place."
This time it was Garrett's turn to remain silent. He did what he had to do and he wasn't going to explain it to her again.
"I need to wrap that." He said, going into the bathroom and getting the first aid kit.
Beth took the minute he was away to really examine her hand. There were very clear bruises on the back of her hand, between each finger. And she was almost afraid some of the bones were broken.
"I think ice might be better until I see if it is going to swell." Beth said when he returned with the bandages. At least she was talking to him, Garrett thought as he nodded and went to get a bowl of ice from the kitchen downstairs.
His absence gave her more time to think about what just happened. The episodes had never been that intense, and although they'd frightened her, she'd never felt like she was in any physical danger before.
She closed her eyes at the memory of the intense anger she'd felt being directed at her. This time there was no doubt. She knew the rage she felt was Adam's, but she couldn't understand why she felt he would be angry with her. In her mind she had seen a bloody, headless figure, which confused her even more. She knew it must be the body of an immortal who had lost a battle, but did it represent someone he'd fought before or had it only just happened? The thought of him being challenged and the chance she might lose him forever made her ill. The only thing that kept her going besides her daughter's presence, was the knowledge that somehow, some way, no matter how long it took, she would be with Adam again. She stumbled to her feet and went into the bathroom to splash water on her face.
When she came back out into the bedroom, Garrett noticed how pale she looked and that her hand did indeed appear to be swelling.
"Lie down." He ordered. "You can soak your hand in the ice while you rest and I'll be back in a little while to check on it."
"That really isn't necessary." She told him.
"What isn't necessary is you pulling a stunt like this." He retorted. "It makes me wonder what you are capable of Leandra. You wouldn't hurt Cassie for a chance to escape would you?"
"You know I would never hurt her." Beth protested.
"I don't know anything anymore." He replied. "I'm beginning to wonder if I ever knew you at all."
She bit her lip at the urge to respond that she obviously had never known him. And she knew much better than to say Craig wouldn't recognize him either. She had to be careful and placate Garrett as best she could. She had to find a way to get him to let his guard down so she could find an opportunity to send Adam another message.
"Thank you for the ice. I'm going to lie down." She said quietly.
After he'd gone she couldn't help but pour her heart out into her pillow. Adam was in trouble, she just knew it, and it tore her heart in two to know she couldn't help him anymore than he could find her. The rage she'd felt inside him was so intense. It had caused her to scream out in agony when she sensed it, and again she wondered why it seemed to be focused on her. She rationalized that the rage was really about not being able to find she and Cassie. Adam loved her, she was sure of that.
For the next few hours she played back each of the instances when she'd felt his presence. Every time they'd become more intense, and she didn't know if that was just because she was more familiar with it and therefore more open, or if it was something else. The sight of the headless figure and the rage, combined with the sensation of Adam's hand linking with her own and the feeling of heat rushing through her body, led her to wonder if the Quickening they shared had done more than extend her life. Had it connected them in a way they would have never known had she not been taken from him?
When Garrett came back to check on her hand, she had already wrapped it and was feigning sleep so he would not disturb her thoughts. It was almost dawn before Beth finally drifted off to sleep.
Why had Joe followed him?
Methos wasn't ready to move on, but the man's presence left him no choice. He focused his attention on the road, but his thoughts were where they had been for the two days he'd been driving . still on the beach. "He should have fought if he valued his life." He reasoned. "We fight. That is who we are. That is what we do."
The ancient immortal reasoned what he'd done had been justified, a part of the game. It was what he was created to do. But deep in his gut he knew there was no honor in taking the head of a friend who did not resist. "What do I care about honor?" Methos muttered, all the while wishing Joe hadn't witnessed the act.
"Oh bloody hell!" he looked in the rear view mirror and saw the flashing blue lights. He'd only crossed the border into Texas a half hour before, and hadn't been paying attention to his speed when the highway improved.
The last thing he needed was to give them a reason to search the car, especially with not only his sword, but Don Augustin's tucked in the folds of his duster. He pulled to the side of the highway and was just reaching for the car registration when he felt the sensation that told him the approaching officer was immortal.
It was early morning and there were no other cars in sight. Methos saw the man pause when he felt the sensation. The tall, dark haired officer's eyes narrowed and he appeared to be looking up the highway before turning to go back to his car.
When Methos saw the glint of a blade being pulled from the back, he didn't wait. He got out of his car, slipped on the duster and pulled one of the swords from the lining. Something about the way the stranger walked with confidence and the curve of the blade he carried, told Methos that this would not be an easy match.
He took a few seconds to quickly scan the area, jumping from the short embankment of the highway and down onto the flat ground below. The dirt and sand mix was rutty, and he knew he would need to be careful of his footing.
"Thinkin' of runnin' boy?" the other immortal drawled as he followed Methos.
Methos didn't respond. He held his sword in both hands as he circled around the man, noticing the gun in his holster. This could be a problem.
Seeing where his eyes fell, the man grinned. "Nervous boy?"
Methos didn't know what he hated more, the way the man called him "boy" or the cocky smirk on his face. Whichever it was, he couldn't let it get to him. He had to remain focused and he had to gain advantage . quickly.
"The name is Calvin Massey." The officer told him, annoyed when Methos only shrugged with indifference as the two continued to circle. "You aren't interested in knowing who's going to send you to hell boy?"
"Everything I need to know I will learn when I take your Quickening." Methos declared as he made the first move, swinging low and then swiveling to swipe his blade up high. Massey blocked the first and then dipped to avoid the second. He was quick, and Methos found himself staving off a flurry of powerful blows as he moved back further from the road. For several minutes he let Massey set the tone of the battle as he studied the way the man moved and looked for patterns of motion as well as possible weaknesses. His lack of aggressive moves gave Massey the impression he lacked skill.
"Maybe you should tell me who you are so I'll know what name to carve on the marker." Massey gloated as his sword tore through the side of Methos' coat, grazing him just below the ribs. The wound stung, but didn't penetrate deep enough to impede. But it had been much closer than could be allowed again.
Methos reached into the lining of his coat with his free hand and withdrew the second sword. He wasted no time attacking Massey, forcing the man to try and deflect first one blade and then the other. Massey's eyes widened when he realized Methos had not only hidden the 2nd sword, but had hidden his ability as well. He'd wasted precious energy believing the battle would be a quick one, but now with the double blade attack, Massey's confidence flickered.
Methos half expected the man to go for his gun, but the officer's arrogance was great and he continued to defend himself with the both hands gripping his own sword tightly. He was either too proud or too stupid to reach for his gun, Methos mused. Whichever, he didn't care, as long as both of the man's hands remained on that sword handle.
The sound of steel clashing against steel rang loud in the clear, cold air. Even with the second sword, Methos found himself struggling to maintain the edge. Massey was not only quick, but his balance and ability to avoid injury were some of the best he'd ever seen.
The ground became even more uneven as they battled across the stark field, and more than once both of them had to struggle to remain on their feet. And then it happened. Methos stepped in a particularly deep area of soft sand and found himself on one knee. Massey let out a loud groan as he came down with all the force he could, striking so hard that although Methos blade was quick enough to meet it, he was unable to deflect and felt the steel drive into the bone of his left shoulder.
His shoulder felt like it was burning, and for an instant Methos worried he might fall then and there, and for sure his chances of surviving were diminishing. Massey raised his sword high above his head, intending to finish it, but as he did, Methos drove the point of his sword straight up and then twisted it.
Massey cried out in pain even as he brought his blade down hard. Methos dove forward, into Massey's body to try and keep the blow he knew he could not shield against from tearing him in half. He felt the blade slice painfully into his lower back just as Massey heard the sound of a gun firing into his gut. Methos had grabbed the holster as he fell into the man, turned the gun up and firing repeatedly as he felt the severing of his own spine. He screamed in agony as he struggled to hold onto Massey by wrapping his arms around the man's waist.
Massey stared down at him in disbelief. He hadn't expected his own weapon to be used against him, especially with the injuries Methos had sustained. He fell backwards on the ground, and Methos landed on top of him, unable to move his legs.
Knowing it was going to come down to who revived first, Methos raised the gun to pump the last two shots into Massey's shocked face before he passed out. The two immortals lay contorted on the ground, their blood covered bodies a grotesque site.
The first thing Methos felt as his body came back to life, were the claws of a buzzard digging into his back. He let out a mixed cry of pain and protest, frightening the bird and it's mate, who was feasting on the obliterated face and neck of Massey. "God what a mess." He groaned as he struggled to his feet, finding his sword.
He wasted no time. He could hear traffic picking up on the highway and knew the two abandoned vehicles would draw attention. Methos raised his sword and brought it down on what was left of Massey's neck.
He knew Massey must have survived many challenges because of the sheer power of the man, but hadn't realized just how old or how many until the force of the Quickening lifted him from the ground and exploded around him. Images raced through his mind at a rapid pace, flashes of the dead immortal's life weaving itself into his brain. Massey had apparently been a Norseman in his earliest years, and a soldier in virtually every major conflict of the past 200, with centuries of battle in between.
And there in the midst of the Quickening, despite the sheer intensity of it, was the familiar feeling of his fingers laced with those of the source of his deepest pain. This time however, instead of fighting it, he actually welcomed it. Over the past weeks the sensation of her presence in the Quickenings happened again and again, prompting Methos to turn the tables on his vision. His grip on the phantom hand was crushing and in his mind he could imagine the shock Beth would feel as his rage, mixed with the power of the Quickening focused on her.
Methos fell to the ground, shaking not only with the new-found power he'd drawn from Massey, but from the vivid sound of Beth's scream that had forced him to mentally release her. He knelt with his hands on the ground as he tried to shake the agonizing cry from his mind. It had literally sent a shiver down his spine as he wondered just how much of what he'd just felt was real and how much was of his own creation. When he'd first felt her presence he thought if this really were a connection, he would make her feel some of what he'd been feeling. He'd channeled as much anger as he could in her direction. But once he heard that sound in his head, he couldn't help feeling regret. As much as he hated her, even if this weren't real, he could not follow through. To cause her pain meant to slice into his own heart, and real or not, it sickened him.
-----------------
Garrett heard Beth scream and rushed up the stairs, knocking the door off its hinges as he forced himself into her room. He found her kneeling on the floor, clutching her hand and crying in agony.
"Good God what have you done?" he asked as Helen came in behind him to pick a frightened and upset Cassie from her crib. Beth tried to pull away from him, but Garrett wouldn't let her. He looked at her hand and the bruising.
"Why would you do this to yourself Lea?" he asked, but Beth had no answer. She hadn't done it, but even if she could have explained, she wouldn't.
A couple of the guards rushed into the villa. Garrett heard them and told them everything was fine, sending them away.
Turning back to look at Beth, he saw her eyes were wide, wide with fright, and there was something else he couldn't quite read. She was obviously upset, but he couldn't figure out why. Even on the worst days after he'd first taken her, she'd never been this upset. She'd been angry and depressed, but never truly afraid of him.
As her heart rate began to regulate and the sensation disappeared, Beth took several deep, cleansing breaths and pulled her hand away from his. "I'll be fine." She said, dismissing him. "You can go now, both of you."
Garrett didn't like her tone. She'd scared the living daylights out of him with her screams, and now she was trying to act as if it were nothing. His eyes narrowed as he looked at her.
"You thought I'd take you to a hospital if you hurt yourself didn't you?" he accused.
Again Beth didn't respond, which only made him believe he was correct.
"Take Cassie downstairs." He ordered Helen. Beth tried to protest, but he shushed her with a stern look and a promise that if she didn't cooperate he would have Helen take over permanent care of the baby.
"You wouldn't." she whispered.
"I'll do whatever is necessary to keep her safe and happy." He replied.
"If that were true you wouldn't have taken us in the first place."
This time it was Garrett's turn to remain silent. He did what he had to do and he wasn't going to explain it to her again.
"I need to wrap that." He said, going into the bathroom and getting the first aid kit.
Beth took the minute he was away to really examine her hand. There were very clear bruises on the back of her hand, between each finger. And she was almost afraid some of the bones were broken.
"I think ice might be better until I see if it is going to swell." Beth said when he returned with the bandages. At least she was talking to him, Garrett thought as he nodded and went to get a bowl of ice from the kitchen downstairs.
His absence gave her more time to think about what just happened. The episodes had never been that intense, and although they'd frightened her, she'd never felt like she was in any physical danger before.
She closed her eyes at the memory of the intense anger she'd felt being directed at her. This time there was no doubt. She knew the rage she felt was Adam's, but she couldn't understand why she felt he would be angry with her. In her mind she had seen a bloody, headless figure, which confused her even more. She knew it must be the body of an immortal who had lost a battle, but did it represent someone he'd fought before or had it only just happened? The thought of him being challenged and the chance she might lose him forever made her ill. The only thing that kept her going besides her daughter's presence, was the knowledge that somehow, some way, no matter how long it took, she would be with Adam again. She stumbled to her feet and went into the bathroom to splash water on her face.
When she came back out into the bedroom, Garrett noticed how pale she looked and that her hand did indeed appear to be swelling.
"Lie down." He ordered. "You can soak your hand in the ice while you rest and I'll be back in a little while to check on it."
"That really isn't necessary." She told him.
"What isn't necessary is you pulling a stunt like this." He retorted. "It makes me wonder what you are capable of Leandra. You wouldn't hurt Cassie for a chance to escape would you?"
"You know I would never hurt her." Beth protested.
"I don't know anything anymore." He replied. "I'm beginning to wonder if I ever knew you at all."
She bit her lip at the urge to respond that she obviously had never known him. And she knew much better than to say Craig wouldn't recognize him either. She had to be careful and placate Garrett as best she could. She had to find a way to get him to let his guard down so she could find an opportunity to send Adam another message.
"Thank you for the ice. I'm going to lie down." She said quietly.
After he'd gone she couldn't help but pour her heart out into her pillow. Adam was in trouble, she just knew it, and it tore her heart in two to know she couldn't help him anymore than he could find her. The rage she'd felt inside him was so intense. It had caused her to scream out in agony when she sensed it, and again she wondered why it seemed to be focused on her. She rationalized that the rage was really about not being able to find she and Cassie. Adam loved her, she was sure of that.
For the next few hours she played back each of the instances when she'd felt his presence. Every time they'd become more intense, and she didn't know if that was just because she was more familiar with it and therefore more open, or if it was something else. The sight of the headless figure and the rage, combined with the sensation of Adam's hand linking with her own and the feeling of heat rushing through her body, led her to wonder if the Quickening they shared had done more than extend her life. Had it connected them in a way they would have never known had she not been taken from him?
When Garrett came back to check on her hand, she had already wrapped it and was feigning sleep so he would not disturb her thoughts. It was almost dawn before Beth finally drifted off to sleep.