Joe Dawson slowly made his way from behind the bar of his Paris nightclub and settled heavily into a wooden chair at one of the tables. He lay the cane he used to help him walk to one side and poured himself a scotch.
Thoughtfully he lifted the glass to stare morosely into it. Since Duncan MacLeod had killed his kinsman Connor MacLeod a few years ago... the Highlander had wanted little to do with Joe. That whole Sanctuary business... as part of the "official" Watcher policy to make certain the Game never ended... had pulled seriously at the bonds of friendship the two men had shared over the years.
In fact... Joe had turned Duncan's file over to a younger Watcher while he basically retired. Oh... he still taught a few classes at the Watcher Academy both here in Paris and in London... and he had a seat and a voice on the Watcher Council... but he'd given up the day-to-day Watching.
He didn't miss it! Especially on days like today! A phone call from his daughter Amy Brennan-Thomas had confirmed for him that Kit O'Brady, Michelle Webster, and Grace Chandel had all perished within the last week. Their deaths were confirmed.
Added to the previous totals of the last six months... that meant there were now fewer than fifty immortals left alive. One of them was Duncan MacLeod. At least... the Watchers assumed MacLeod was still living... he'd vanished last year and no one had yet located him.
The Council had asked Joe periodically if he'd heard from him... Joe could truthfully say he hadn't. He could say the same about Amanda... or about Methos. Both of them had also vanished from the Watcher radar. Where they were... no one was certain of.
"Perhaps that's how it should be," Joe murmured as he held the glass against his forehead and closed his eyes. Ever since he'd broken the rules and gotten to know first MacLeod, then Richie, Amanda, and Methos, things had spiraled out of control for the Watchers.
"The rules of millennia should re respected," the Council had told him. "We remain apart for good reason. If we let ourselves get involved... then we change their game."
"Maybe we should!" Joe had insisted.
"And open ourselves up for murder? We have had enough of that! There will be no further interference for good or ill... on pain of death!"
The Sanctuary project had been discontinued. Field agents had been re-called for intense re-training. In the process, a few immortals knowing about the Watchers, had managed to vanish. They had pulled up stakes and changed names, appearances, locations, livelihoods. Some were lost until found dead; a few had resurfaced over the past year or so. Whoever the Immortal was who was hunting... he apparently had a better sense of where and how to find the illusive hidden immortals than the far-flung Watcher network.
While Joe mourned the loss of Duncan MacLeod's friendship... it was the loss of Methos that most upset the Watchers. Five thousand years of living history was gone... poof!... as if it had never been. He was still out there somewhere... but no one knew exactly where. And no one knew where to begin looking. The Ancient One had managed to survive for five thousand years by hiding in plain sight. He could be anywhere. He could be anyone.
"Afternoon Boss!"
Joe glanced up as the young American college student he'd recently hired to help out about the place, Amber Conroy, came through the door.
Joe smiled. She was a breath of fresh air about the place. She'd come to France to study art at the Sorbonne. When she'd run short of money for living expenses she'd shown up here one evening when he happened to be short-handed. With a shake of her long honey-blonde hair she'd pitched in... taking orders... waiting on tables... even doing a turn behind the bar.
Once the rush was over... Joe had checked her I.D. to be certain she was old enough... and talked with her.
"My Da... ran a bar until he died a few years ago. He worked himself to death! 'Twas one of the best Irish pubs in Boston according to the reviewers. Hundreds turned out for his funeral."
"What about your mother?" Joe had asked.
"She died when I was a wee slip of a thing. I barely remember her. I was an only child. I helped my Da out when things were busy. Anyway... after he died... I sold the bar and came here to study. Trouble is... the money didn't go quite as far as I thought it should." Amber had shrugged. "I'm actually looking for a job."
"And you've found one!" Joe had grinned his toothy smile at her. The girl knew her way about a bar... no question about it. And he did some extra help. He was getting older and slower. On some days... Joe had been finding it hard to even attach the prostheses he used as legs. He found himself just sitting in the wheelchair... wondering what the hell had happened to his life.
But Amber's presence five nights a week had brought a glimmer of light back into his life. Joe truly enjoyed watching the girl. She could speak fluent French... and then turn around and put on the most charming Irish brogue that had even the most belligerent customers wrapped about her finger. Amber Conroy almost made him feel young again.
Claudia Jardine had been one of the Highlander's protégés. She was a gifted pianist... and unfortunately... she was also an immortal.
"Thought I'd do that stockroom inventory for you this afternoon unless you had something else for me to work on," Amber laughed. Her honey-blonde hair was caught up in a ponytail and her blue-gray eyes flashed as she grinned at him.
"Inventory sounds great... just don't wear yourself out... Fridays are our big night around here!" Joe called out to her as she headed for the back... her ponytail bouncing with her walk.
Amber tossed him a little wave as she vanished into the stockroom.
Joe sipped at the scotch slowly... appreciating the rich peat flavor of the whiskey. He'd always been more a bourbon man himself... but in his time as Duncan MacLeod's friend... he'd come to enjoy fine scotch whiskey... neat.
A shadow fell over him. Joe looked up at the shadowy figure leaning against the doorway of Le Blues Bar.
"Hello, Joe!"
"Mac! Where the hell have you been?" Joe gestured for Duncan to join him.
"Needed to take some time to figure some things out. You know how it is... " Duncan settled smoothly into the other chair across from Joe and leaned forward to pick up the bottle. "You know what they say about drinking alone?"
"Leads to an early grave?" Joe arched his eyebrows in amusement.
"No... but it's lonely." Duncan screwed the cap off and took a long drink... Then he closed his eyes as he seemed to think about when and where the scotch had been bottled and where he'd been at the time. His eyes snapped open. "Sorry... something I evidently picked up from Connor." Duncan set the bottle down and leaned soberly back in his chair.
"I'm so sorry about that Mac!" Joe offered in all sincerity.
Duncan gave him the barest glimpse of a smile, then nodded. "Thanks, Joe... I..." Duncan's voice trailed off as Amber entered carrying a case of bottles.
"Thought I'd re-stock what we were short of" she said. "Oh... hi!" Amber flashed a warm smile at Duncan.
The Highlander shifted in his chair and watched the tall young woman expertly pull the bottles out of the crate and place them on the shelves behind the bar.
"That's Amber... she works here." Joe said.
Duncan nodded. "Nice... very nice."
Joe's office phone began ringing.
"Shall I get that for you, Boss?" amber offered.
"Naw... I got it." Joe maneuvered to his feet, grasped his cane and made his way into the office, shutting the door behind him. If it was the office phone... it was likely Watcher business.
Amber shrugged and continued stocking the bar. Duncan watched her for a moment and then crossed to the bar... the scotch bottle in his hand. "Might I have a glass?" he asked.
Amber looked at him and then nodded, handing him a glass.
"Does he know you're Immortal?" the Highlander asked.
Amber's eyes narrowed and she glanced back at Joe's closed office door. A flicker of a smile crossed her face. "I don't think so... why would he."
"Because he knows about me. I'm Duncan MacLeod."
The girl's eyes widened at the mention of his name... as if she knew who he was. "Amber Conroy... at least for now. Are you challenging me?"
"Nope... Just want you to know he's my friend... I don't want him in the middle of any unpleasantness."
"That makes two of us." Amber shifted slightly as she glanced once more at Joe's closed door.
"So why are you here?" Duncan pushed.
"He offered me a job. I needed a job." Amber shrugged. "Is there any reason besides that he is your friend that I shouldn't be here."
Duncan considered things for a minute. "Nope." He took a drink of his scotch. It was likely not a good idea to tell some immortal he had just met about the Watchers. Joe likely knew the truth about her anyway... but had not let on to the girl... Either way, Duncan saw no reason to become involved.
Joe's door opened. His face was ashen.
Duncan set his drink down. "Bad news?"
"Boss? What happened?"
Joe glanced at them both. Carefully he responded, "John Kirin's dead," he said to Duncan. Glancing at Amber he added, "A mutual friend."
Amber muttered condolences, then picked up the empty crate as she returned to the storeroom. She shot Duncan a sharp glance as she left.
Joe settled onto a barstool next to Duncan. "We need to talk."
"About Kirin?"
"About all the immortals who've died in the past six months."
"The Gathering is happening, Joe. We've known this for almost the last twenty years... ever since Connor took care of the Kurgan. The time of the Gathering is at hand."
"But someone is systematically killing immortals and no Watcher has seen the battles."
"Perhaps no Watcher should," Duncan sipped once more at his scotch. The light-hearted feeling he'd had in coming to see his old friend had vanished. Reminders of the Gathering made him realize that all too many of the immortals he called "friend" were being lost to him over time. If this were the final Gathering... he would lose them all... and then the mortal friends he had would be next, lost to age or illness. "Our lives are lived in the shadows, Joe. Perhaps no one should remember us."
"So what brings you to Paris?" Joe asked, attempting to change the subject.
"Just passing through. I haven't been called or pulled anywhere... I'm just on may to London. Claudia is playing a concert there and I thought I'd take it in." Duncan shrugged as if it were nothing. Claudia Jardine had been one of the Highlander's protégés. She was a gifted pianist... and unfortunately... she was also an immortal.
A sound from the storeroom made Duncan pause. "About your employee..." he began.
"Isn't she something?" Joe grinned, His crooked teeth flashed in the light.
"You do know she's immortal?"
The expression on Joe's face turned wistful. "Yeah... but I figured... since we'd lost so many of you guys in the past few years... maybe if I gave her a job here... she'd stay put a while... where one us could keep an eye on her."
"Who was she?"
"In her first life she was Kathleen Conroy of Boston. Raised by Irish immigrants. A minor player in the game... well-trained. She's taken a few over the years... but she doesn't usually start trouble."
"Who trained her?"
"Funny you should mention that..." Joe lowered his shaking head and sighed... letting out a great breath. "She was one of Connor's students."
"He never mentioned her."
"Well... I think she was one of his 'shining stars'... the ones he hoped might survive if the Gathering was only a legend that never came to be."
"Are you gonna tell her you know?" Duncan asked.
Joe glanced at him... a thoughtful expression crossed his face. "Is there any reason I should?"
Duncan shook his head.
Behind them, Amber Kathleen Conroy carried in a second crate, flashed the men another smile and began stocking the bar once more. Both could hear the lilting strains of some bit of Irish melody about her as she sang under her breath.
Joe motioned for Duncan to join him once more at a table. As the two settled, he quietly filled Duncan in on the recent deaths. "We don't know who is doing it Mac... that's the scary part. But in the last few months... someone has been systematically wiping out many of the lesser immortals... It's not just Kirin who's dead, but also Benny Carbassa, Willie Kingsley, as well as many of those who were never much of a threat. Yesterday I got confirmation about Grace Chandel."
Joe waited while a shadow of remembrance flashed across Duncan's solemn face. "Grace," he whispered sadly. Duncan lowered his head and was silent. He'd known the quiet and unassuming immortal for several hundred years. They'd been lovers once... and had remained friends.
"Sorry Mac," offered the Watcher.
Duncan remained quietly thoughtful then stood quickly. "All the more reason I get to London. Claudia will be an easy target."
"Yeah... she would be," Joe nodded, aware that the headstrong young pianist refused to carry a sword. "Good luck, Mac... and watch your head."
Duncan MacLeod flashed his friend a smile and left.
Behind the bar... Amber Conroy watched the Highlander leave and wondered what the hurry had been. She'd actually wanted to have a talk with him about Connor. Well... perhaps they'd have another chance. Meanwhile... she flashed a smile at Joe Dawson. She found him endearing, and in many ways he reminded her of her Da, dead for almost two centuries. Moreover, MacLeod's comments had made her curious about Joe. If he knew the truth about MacLeod and about immortals, what else did he know? She wondered how he'd react if she told him about her own immortality. She'd already been considering it... and now that MacLeod had happened in, she was tempted. She surely was.