CHAPTER 42
Methos threw both swords down on the spare bed in his motel room before discarding his coat and torn shirt and laying face down on the other bed. "I must be slipping." He said out loud as he rolled to his back and stared up at the ceiling. Two challenges in one week and nothing to show for it but the loss of the sword he'd taken from Don Augustin and a lightweight replacement that wasn't balanced for someone his size.
"Damn it all." He cursed as he tried to figure out how he could have let this happen. Why had he let her rattle on and on about his personal life? He should have taken her head and been out of there long before the night watchman stumbled onto their battle.
Her words played over and over in his head. How dare she comment on his life! She knew nothing, and yet she seemed to believe she had all the answers. And where did she get off calling him a quitter? She was an ignorant, young fool who deserved to feel his blade at her throat. He grinned as he recalled the fear in her eyes, and the way her body tensed beneath his as he pressed the edge against her neck.
"I should have taken her head when I had the chance."
He hadn't liked having his life tossed out like that, or being reminded of the one he couldn't get out of his head no matter how hard he tried. He cursed Ellen as the face and body his mind recalled turned from the fair haired Irish girl's to Beth's dark, silken waves and lush curves. Groaning internally, Methos rolled over and tried unsuccessfully to get some sleep.
Only a few blocks away, Ellen used the key Riley Quinn had given her the night he left town to get into his flat. Riley certainly had created a fortress for himself. The windows were barred and the door was made of steel and could be braced with a steel rod from the inside. She would be safe here.
She tossed the swords on the table and stripped off her clothes on the way to the bathroom, anxious to get out of the torn and bloody garments as quickly as possible. The hot water felt wonderful as it rinsed away the remains of the battle she'd been fortunate enough to survive.
Adam Pierson had proven to be all Riley had told her and more. He was cold, vicious and skilled beyond any immortal she'd ever seen before. The memory of how close she'd come to losing her head sent a shiver down her spine that the turning of the hot water knob couldn't quell. The images of their battle flashed over and over in her mind until she almost wanted to scream from their vividness, and every time she saw his blade flash in her mind, she saw his eyes glaring at her.
The cold, steel gray eyes haunted her as she finished her shower and rifled through Riley's bureau to find something she could wear. They continued to pierce her thoughts as she tried to make some coffee and sat at the table, stirring endlessly as she tried to understand what bothered her so much. It was more than fear of dying. She'd felt that before. No, this was more disturbing because it was so familiar.
Her third cup of coffee was cold in the mug before she was able to identify the feeling. When she'd looked in Adam Pierson's eyes she'd seen the same cold anger that had numbed her own eyes for almost a hundred years after her husband's betrayal. Before her husband had taken her and torn away every shred of trusting innocence and love she'd freely given, Ellen had been a tender and bright child. Her life hadn't been easy, but she had found joy and a measure of happiness living on the banks of the Shannon. When he courted and married her, it was as if her cup truly was running over. Little did she know her life was going to spiral into a cold, dark perverseness that would almost destroy her. Once a young girl who's heart broke over the slight injury of a bird or small animal, Ellen was transformed by his cruelty and ultimate betrayal into a harridan who literally laughed as she heard his neck crack in the hangman's noose.
The memory of her own reaction sickened her. Yes she had a reason to want justice, but before he hurt her so badly, she would never have delighted in the pain of another living creature. She'd almost blown her cover as a soot covered boy in a flop brimmed hat when she burst out in hysterics at the sight of him thrashing about on the rope.
Even her teacher had to look deeply to see behind the thick, callous wall she'd built around her heart and feelings. More than once she'd driven him to bouts of drunkenness over her potential for cruelty. The thought of her teacher made her smile. He'd been a good and patient man. Not only had he trained her for battle, but helped her work through much of her pain and come to grips with the humiliation.
Although when the time came for her to be on her own Ellen was still incapable of real love, she was able to suppress the rage and make peace with her existence. Her respect for her teacher was the closest thing she'd managed to a real relationship since her first death. She hoped in time her heart could one day open further. For the past eighty years or so she'd at least managed to regard her lovers with a fondness. "Maybe some day." She mused, measuring how far she'd come.
Ellen got up and crossed the room, picking up the sword her teacher had forged for her. "I can't believe I lost your sister." She said to the blade, running a cloth over its surface to remove the residue of battle. Her attention then moved to the wider, heavier blade with the detailed handle. She wiped it clean and then began to examine it more closely. There were strange symbols that looked like some type of ancient alphabet on the handle. Something told her it was significant.
For a few minutes she swept the blade back and forth, testing its weight and craftsmanship. "You are a beauty." She whispered, surprised that the weight didn't hamper her motion. "Someone took great care forging you."
As she held it up to the light, she caught the reflection of her eyes on the blade and once again another pair of eyes seemed to stare back at her. She slowly peeled away the most vivid images until she came to the instance when she first taunted Pierson by mentioning his wife. Ellen recalled the brief flicker that he hadn't been able to shield from her view. She saw the pain that could only come from the shredding of a true heart that he could try to deny, but was definitely still beating strongly beneath the surface. "I should have told you." She said to the blade before laying it on the table beside her own. "I know what this kind of pain feels like and instead of trying to end your torment with the truth, I goaded you with riddles."
"Of course, cynic that you are, you wouldn't have believed me and I'd have still felt your blade against my neck." She rubbed the skin above the baggy shirt collar nervously as she continued to talk to herself. "And it's not like I should care what you do, as long as you and your sword stay far away from me." She continued, flopping down on the soft sofa and pulling the wool throw over her shoulders. For a long while she tried to make sense of her thoughts.
"You'd know what to do about this wouldn't you Connor?" she whispered out loud into the dark room. "You saw through all of it and thought I was still worth teaching . worth saving . worth the effort to reach. If only I could talk to you."
Methos threw both swords down on the spare bed in his motel room before discarding his coat and torn shirt and laying face down on the other bed. "I must be slipping." He said out loud as he rolled to his back and stared up at the ceiling. Two challenges in one week and nothing to show for it but the loss of the sword he'd taken from Don Augustin and a lightweight replacement that wasn't balanced for someone his size.
"Damn it all." He cursed as he tried to figure out how he could have let this happen. Why had he let her rattle on and on about his personal life? He should have taken her head and been out of there long before the night watchman stumbled onto their battle.
Her words played over and over in his head. How dare she comment on his life! She knew nothing, and yet she seemed to believe she had all the answers. And where did she get off calling him a quitter? She was an ignorant, young fool who deserved to feel his blade at her throat. He grinned as he recalled the fear in her eyes, and the way her body tensed beneath his as he pressed the edge against her neck.
"I should have taken her head when I had the chance."
He hadn't liked having his life tossed out like that, or being reminded of the one he couldn't get out of his head no matter how hard he tried. He cursed Ellen as the face and body his mind recalled turned from the fair haired Irish girl's to Beth's dark, silken waves and lush curves. Groaning internally, Methos rolled over and tried unsuccessfully to get some sleep.
Only a few blocks away, Ellen used the key Riley Quinn had given her the night he left town to get into his flat. Riley certainly had created a fortress for himself. The windows were barred and the door was made of steel and could be braced with a steel rod from the inside. She would be safe here.
She tossed the swords on the table and stripped off her clothes on the way to the bathroom, anxious to get out of the torn and bloody garments as quickly as possible. The hot water felt wonderful as it rinsed away the remains of the battle she'd been fortunate enough to survive.
Adam Pierson had proven to be all Riley had told her and more. He was cold, vicious and skilled beyond any immortal she'd ever seen before. The memory of how close she'd come to losing her head sent a shiver down her spine that the turning of the hot water knob couldn't quell. The images of their battle flashed over and over in her mind until she almost wanted to scream from their vividness, and every time she saw his blade flash in her mind, she saw his eyes glaring at her.
The cold, steel gray eyes haunted her as she finished her shower and rifled through Riley's bureau to find something she could wear. They continued to pierce her thoughts as she tried to make some coffee and sat at the table, stirring endlessly as she tried to understand what bothered her so much. It was more than fear of dying. She'd felt that before. No, this was more disturbing because it was so familiar.
Her third cup of coffee was cold in the mug before she was able to identify the feeling. When she'd looked in Adam Pierson's eyes she'd seen the same cold anger that had numbed her own eyes for almost a hundred years after her husband's betrayal. Before her husband had taken her and torn away every shred of trusting innocence and love she'd freely given, Ellen had been a tender and bright child. Her life hadn't been easy, but she had found joy and a measure of happiness living on the banks of the Shannon. When he courted and married her, it was as if her cup truly was running over. Little did she know her life was going to spiral into a cold, dark perverseness that would almost destroy her. Once a young girl who's heart broke over the slight injury of a bird or small animal, Ellen was transformed by his cruelty and ultimate betrayal into a harridan who literally laughed as she heard his neck crack in the hangman's noose.
The memory of her own reaction sickened her. Yes she had a reason to want justice, but before he hurt her so badly, she would never have delighted in the pain of another living creature. She'd almost blown her cover as a soot covered boy in a flop brimmed hat when she burst out in hysterics at the sight of him thrashing about on the rope.
Even her teacher had to look deeply to see behind the thick, callous wall she'd built around her heart and feelings. More than once she'd driven him to bouts of drunkenness over her potential for cruelty. The thought of her teacher made her smile. He'd been a good and patient man. Not only had he trained her for battle, but helped her work through much of her pain and come to grips with the humiliation.
Although when the time came for her to be on her own Ellen was still incapable of real love, she was able to suppress the rage and make peace with her existence. Her respect for her teacher was the closest thing she'd managed to a real relationship since her first death. She hoped in time her heart could one day open further. For the past eighty years or so she'd at least managed to regard her lovers with a fondness. "Maybe some day." She mused, measuring how far she'd come.
Ellen got up and crossed the room, picking up the sword her teacher had forged for her. "I can't believe I lost your sister." She said to the blade, running a cloth over its surface to remove the residue of battle. Her attention then moved to the wider, heavier blade with the detailed handle. She wiped it clean and then began to examine it more closely. There were strange symbols that looked like some type of ancient alphabet on the handle. Something told her it was significant.
For a few minutes she swept the blade back and forth, testing its weight and craftsmanship. "You are a beauty." She whispered, surprised that the weight didn't hamper her motion. "Someone took great care forging you."
As she held it up to the light, she caught the reflection of her eyes on the blade and once again another pair of eyes seemed to stare back at her. She slowly peeled away the most vivid images until she came to the instance when she first taunted Pierson by mentioning his wife. Ellen recalled the brief flicker that he hadn't been able to shield from her view. She saw the pain that could only come from the shredding of a true heart that he could try to deny, but was definitely still beating strongly beneath the surface. "I should have told you." She said to the blade before laying it on the table beside her own. "I know what this kind of pain feels like and instead of trying to end your torment with the truth, I goaded you with riddles."
"Of course, cynic that you are, you wouldn't have believed me and I'd have still felt your blade against my neck." She rubbed the skin above the baggy shirt collar nervously as she continued to talk to herself. "And it's not like I should care what you do, as long as you and your sword stay far away from me." She continued, flopping down on the soft sofa and pulling the wool throw over her shoulders. For a long while she tried to make sense of her thoughts.
"You'd know what to do about this wouldn't you Connor?" she whispered out loud into the dark room. "You saw through all of it and thought I was still worth teaching . worth saving . worth the effort to reach. If only I could talk to you."