Disclaimer: Highlander does not belong to me or any of the series' ideas and characters. I just do this for fun and not to make money, so please don't sue me!
Chapter Two
BARCELONA, SPAIN
Three months later
The El Toro had more than the usual number of customers today, Richie Ryan thought as he surveyed the bar. He and his friends had just finished a motorcycle race and were celebrating. Sited beside him was the first place winner of the race.
"Hey Joshua, did you see me fly pass Richie and the others in the last five laps? Oh, man was that great or what? The rush from winning can be really intoxicating. Too bad you decided not to enter this race. The course wasn't that bad. You must have been bored out of your wits just sitting there on the stands," Marcello Sargai said, his words slurred.
"Don't you think you had enough drinks for tonight, Marcello?" Richie asked.
Marcello finished his eighth glass of beer, burped then said, "It's not wrong to celebrate a little when I just won one heck of a race."
"Richie's right Marcello," Joshua Vasquez put in. "We know you're all happy about finally winning, but you need to be sober if you intend to ride your bike back home."
"Oh, come on you guys. Just one more drink ... on me. What do you say?" Marcello didn't wait for a reply. He stood and walked over to the bartender for more drinks. He bumped into one of the waitresses on the way, stumbled backward and almost fell if Richie hadn't been there to help him stay on his feet. Glasses shattered on the floor then Joshua was beside them in a second to support Marcello. He looped the guy's left arm around his shoulder then made their way back to their table.
"I think I better take him home now," Joshua said.
"Yeah, I think you should. I'll pay for the drinks and the damages," Richie offered.
Beside Joshua, Marcello moaned pitifully, "Uuhh ... I don't feel so good."
Joshua swore softly, "I don't know whether I'm lucky or not that I brought my car instead of my bike." When Marcello moaned again he added, "I better go before he throws up all over the place. By the way Richie, you still need a place to crash?"
"Yeah, hope you don't mind."
"Nah, that's alright. There's an extra key for the front door inside the loose board of the porch. You might get there before I do."
"Thanks. Here," Richie handed Joshua Marchello's helmet. "Don't forget this. He just bought it and he believes it gave him luck today."
"I'll see you later." Richie nodded and Joshua turned to go.
Richie heard his friend threaten Marcello not to throw up and shook his head, a smile on his face. He made his way to the bar and found the bartender sweeping the broken glasses.
"Listen mister, I'm really sorry about this. My friend got a little out of control with his victory celebration," Richie told the bartender.
The man looked up with a fierce frown and said in a heavily accented voice, "You tell your friend to be more careful next time or he never gets in here again, comprendes?"
"Uh, sure ... sure I'll tell him. Just tell me how much we owe you for the drinks and damages."
"You wait for me over there and I tell you. Un momento por favor."
Richie walked to the indicated stool and sat down. He thought of how he almost died, again, when his motorcycle skidded in turn number three with only two more laps to go in the race. Shaking his head, he looked around the room and noticed a young woman walk into the bar. Except for a white shirt, the rest of her outfit was black. Black leather jacket, black jeans, and black boots. Her eyes roamed the room as if looking for somebody or something. She approached a waitress and asked her something. After some hesitation the waitress pointed to a door. The woman in black, then, headed that way and entered the kitchen.
Richie stared at the swinging kitchen door and wondered about the woman. Suddenly, he sensed the presence of another Immortal in the room and looked at the man who just entered the bar. The man had all of a sudden stopped in his tracks and looked around the room as if he too sensed something. When their eyes met, Richie was sure that the man by the doorway was the Immortal he sensed. His whole body tensed as he readied himself for whatever challenges the other Immortal may give. The man walked over to Richie, bowed his head, and then introduced himself.
"I am Nicholas Ferrington."
"Richie Ryan," inroducing himself in return.
"You seem so young. You don't seem have the essence of a seasoned Immortal. Am I right to guess that you have not been an Immortal long?"
Richie hated it when seasoned Immortals put him down. "Listen buddy, I can take your head in no time at all," Richie said as he came up to Nicholas.
"My, such bravado. I do love it when my opponents are eager to prove to me just how talented they are," Nicholas said. "I like you, very courageous. Too bad you came with an arrogant head." He gave a dramatic sigh. "I guess we'll just have to cut off such an imperfection."
Richie had enough of what he can take. "Any time your ready old man."
"Hey! You American. You going to start a fight now? You still have to pay me for the glasses your amigo broke." The bartender was fast approaching Richie and Nicholas. His face was a mask of fury.
Nicholas smiled down at Richie, "You're lucky I have more pressing business at the moment. But soon Ryan. Don't think you've seen the last of me."
"I'll be waiting," Richie said as the man walked off. He turned to the bartender and regretted it immediately. The man must have really lost his temper because he was yelling at him loudly and in Spanish. Jeesh, what a night, Richie thought.
* * * * * *
Joshua was still not home so Richie had to use the extra key from under the porch. After locking the front door, he headed straight to the guest room. He knew where everything was since Richie often stayed with Joshua whenever he happened to be in Spain.
Richie turned on the lights, dropped his duffel bag on the floor and placed his helmet on top of the dresser. He sat down on the bed and recalled his confrontation with Nicholas Ferrington.
Damn, he thought, this time he was really way over his head. As much as he hated to admit, he couldn't have been able to handle the Ferrington man. Just from Nicholas's composure, Richie could tell that he was in the same league as Duncan McLeod. And Mac had over four hundred years more experience than him.
He dropped his head in his hands and sighed, "What have I gotten myself into this time?"
He was still in the same position when he heard Joshua enter the front door. Richie got up to greet his friend.
"Hey Josh. How's Marcello?" Richie asked him.
"As well as one can expect when someone's drunk," Joshua said as he sat down on the couch. "Did you find everything okay? Need something in the bedroom? Food maybe?"
"Nah, it's alright. I just feel sorry for Marcello tomorrow. Boy, he'll be feeling lousy."
Joshua shook his head and said, "Well from the number of beer he had tonight. He'd be lucky to just have a hang over."
Richie smiled. "He didn't throw up in your car, did he?"
"No, thank God. I made him hold it. I don't know how he manage it, but right on the dot, he throws up when we reached his house."
Richie laughed at his friends expression. From Joshua's grimace, Richie knew that what happened hadn't been a good sight.
"Well, I guess I better get to bed. Big day tomorrow. You coming with me and Marcello to check out the race track in Barillo Tracks?"
"Yeah, sure. I do have a reputation to maintain."
"What reputation?" Richie joked.
The two men laughed and said good night to each other. In a few minutes the house was enclosed in darkness.
* * * * * *
Sarah hid in the shadows of a Deli store around the street corner. She slowly peeked over to the corner to check if he was on her tail. She saw no one on the street, but still kept herself hidden just to be on the safe. She felt for the bruises on her face with both hands. The bleeding had stopped and the wounds had also begun to heal. Now there's only a dull pain.
Sarah slumped on the wall and closed her eyes. She cannot believe that Nicholas Ferrington had been able to follow her. The day after her encounter with him at the alley in New York, Sarah immediately made plans to leave the USA. Everything was done in minute details. She made sure that Nicholas never followed her. She even used a different name when she bought the plane ticket. She tried so hard to be discreet, but somehow he found out that she was in Barcelona.
Luck was on her side when she got away from him tonight. The man must be crazy, Sarah thought. Why would Nicholas waste his time coming after her? She was not an Immortal. What would he gain if he killed her?
The man was dedicated in what he want accomplished, she'd give him that. Too bad he had to persist on killing her. And he was also catching on. Tonight he brought along with him a wooden numchuk. Sarah shivered when she remembered the pain the weapon inflicted on her face. She had never been endangered this much as long as she can remember. If he knew that anything made of wood could hurt her, then there was no telling what else he knew on what could hurt or even kill a vampire. Then even if she was able to get away from Nicholas every time they meet, she cannot do that forever. They were both immortal for crying out loud.
She opened her eyes and was surprise to find a reddish glow in the sky. Sarah panicked- the sun was coming out. She ran down the street in a hurry, looking for a place to hide. She suddenly looked up and noticed the name of the street: Monte Carlos. Without wasting any time, Sarah run down the street and turned right on the next street. She stopped in front of the eighth house on her left and rang the doorbell. She could already feel some pain on her back from the sun's heat and turned toward the sky to check to see how far up the sun was.
"Come on . . . come on. Please be home," she said urgently as she watched the sun rise.
She heard a noise inside the house and seconds later the front door opened. Sarah turned to face the man holding the door open. He was surprised when he saw who was standing on the porch.
"Sarah? Is that you?" Joshua asked.
"Hi Joshua. I need your help."
