"I know a trick worth two of that"

** 1993, Paris **

Luther plunged his sword into his helpless opponent's heart, and then leaned back slightly to kick the dying body off the blade. He bent down to snatch the crystal that was suspended around her neck, then severed the head with a smooth stroke.

The skies parted and the power screamed down in cascades of blue-white brilliance. It seemed to go on for an eternity, one of the strongest Quickenings Luther had ever felt. After all, Amanda had been over a thousand years old. A formidable opponent, but no more so than Rebecca had been. Through the agonising impact of the bolts of lightning, Luther was still conscious of his unbelievable triumph. He had won! The last piece of the legendary Methuselah Stone was his. As the lightning subsided at last into little flickers around him, Luther stiffened in alarm at the sound of hand clapping.

The familiar sensation of another of his kind approaching had been muffled by the greater immediacy of the Quickening. He turned painfully to see a tall man approaching, still clapping slowly.

"Bravo, Luther. You actually did it. There were times I doubted that you would find all the pieces, but you proved me wrong."

"Who in Hades are you?" Luther forced the words out, trying to get to his feet, but his trembling limbs would not cooperate.

The other man's lips quirked wrily.

"I believe I am Hades. Or at least a near relation. So they say. You've saved me a lot of trouble, you know," the other man said. "I suppose I should thank you. And now..." he drew an obscenely long broadsword from his coat.

"If you kill me, you'll never find the rest of the crystal!" Luther said desperately, bringing his own weapon up in a feeble attempt at defence.

"Oh, don't worry, I already know where you've hidden it," was the sardonic reply, as the newcomer raised his sword. He brought it sharply down, easily disarming his weakened opponent, and then taking his head with an almost negligent backswing.

Once again lightning tore down out of the purple twilight, while a single man's laughter rang through the storm like a harbinger of doom.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"These, having not the law, are a law unto themselves."

** 1994, Paris **

"I'm telling you, Don, James killed MacLeod! He shot him down in cold blood, and then watched Xavier take his head! I'd never have believed it if I hadn't seen him try to kill Richie Ryan in front of me."

Don Salzer shook his head sadly. "I'm not doubting you, Joe. It's just that I don't want to believe it. James Horton, the man we've known and worked with for so many years, your brother-in-law; that he could have turned into such a monster! It's appalling."

"Well, I can't say that I ever liked him," Adam Pierson put in, raising his head from the contemplation of his beer. "I think the Council should take immediate action to stop him. God knows how many more Watchers he's subverted."

"The Council has already passed sentence, Adam," Joe Dawson said, his face drawn into harsh lines of pain. "They have a team of sweepers out, with orders to shoot him on sight."

"I'm sorry, Joe," Don Salzer said, putting a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "He's family. This must be hard for you."

Joe shook his head. "Don, the man that James has become - I don't know him. I don't think I want to know him. Maybe we're all better off with him dead!"

Adam Pierson rose to his feet and tossed the empty can of beer neatly into the bin across the room. "You're probably right. And the odds are against him now, with every Watcher in the field looking for him.

He continued, after a brief pause. "What happened to , anyway?"

"Horton killed him - I guess he'd outlived his usefulness. Why?"

"Oh, just curious. I may be a Methos scholar, but that doesn't mean I'm not interested in other Immortals," Adam said, over his shoulder, as he left the room.

Joe watched the gangly figure walk away, oddly disquieted. What was it he'd said? God knew how many Watchers Horton had subverted... The organization would never be the same again.