Chapter 61
The English Channel
Cassandra leaned languidly against the railing of the ferry and carefully sorted through the papers in the folder. One by one she read the pages and committed the locations to memory. Then one by one she tore each page into strips and let the sea breeze carry the strips far into the distance. With each page she destroyed... she felt as if she were already destroying the locations described on them. Methos owned houses in every country... houses on every continent... on every major island all over the world. Some were grand houses like that in London... most were small and unimportant... They were houses that would allow him to fly beneath the radar when he lived there. There was no limit to the type of house. There were isolated country houses... apartments in busy cities... estates and working farms. Cassandra knew them all now. Methos had kept meticulous records.
About her a flock of gulls cried as they followed the ferry. Not far away a young couple with two small children tossed food to the hungry birds that swooped eagerly at the morsels. Cassandra knew just how they felt... those gulls.
She was feeding her soul on these pages and was preparing to swoop at all that Methos owned. She would destroy it all. Every house... every book... every hidden place he had. One by one she would swoop down on them and consume them until he had nowhere left to hide. She would take from him all he owned as he had taken all from her.
She ripped another page of tax records to strips... so many hidden places... so many hidden treasures. She would destroy them all as she had the home in London. It had been with great satisfaction that she had stood a block away and watched the flames reach high into the sky. Even the firefighters had been unable to stem the flow of the flames as they consumed the old house like so much dried paper. She supposed the Watchers had called it in. But it had made no difference. The manor house of Lord Edward Gray... Methos... was nothing but charred embers and a blackened hulk when the flames had at last been extinguished.
Later as those embers cooled... and the authorities made an initial sort through the ruins... she'd watched them looking for anything that might have been a cause for the blaze. She'd laughed aloud at that. "The cause," she'd thought with amusement, "The cause is me... and I am no longer there." She'd watched the Watchers and their evident consternation. They suspected a quickening... that was evident... but they could say nothing to the officials. The Watchers expected a body... and when it was found... would they assume it was his body? No... but they might assume he'd been there... that he was hunting once more... that he'd fore-sworn this meek act he'd put on for them. How could anyone fail to see that he was no meek, wise old man? How could anyone fail to see he was as devious and as murderous as ever? But soon they would... soon they'd know... He would at last tear away his false mask and show his true face again... He was Death... and he would be destroyed. She would destroy him.
Cassandra tore the final page into strips and tossed the lot of them out onto the water with a sense of glee. Before leaving London this morning... she'd slept... her first real sleep in ages... and in her dreams she had at long last sensed the future... Just as she had in the vault, she'd had a glimpse of Methos on his knees before her... and she had a sword raised to take his head... The dream ended at that point... but it was a true vision... not a false one. She knew the difference.
Lilith had shown her the way to tell the difference between the things she wanted to see... and the things which were... the things which would happen if certain conditions were met. Well... Cassandra would meet those conditions. Whatever it took... she would meet those conditions. No matter who she had to kill... no matter who was hurt in the process... she would do what was needed to arrive at that juncture of time. She would stand over him with the power of life and death in her hands!
It was not that she wanted his quickening inside her as he had once been inside her... but she did want him dead! Perhaps that is why the vision ended with the knowledge that she would have that power of life and death over him... Cassandra smiled and tossed the empty folder out onto the ocean... watching it float for a moment on the wind before sinking onto the choppy waters.
"You shouldn't throw trash into the waters, Miss."
Cassandra turned toward the voice and smiled coldly. "Any why not?"
"Things thrown in is bad for the birds and the fish."
"It's only paper... paper will dissolve in the water."
"Still, Miss, it's bad to do. Sets a bad precedent for the young." The old man leaned on the rail, flicking the ashes of his cigarette into the water.
"What about that cigarette? When you are finished with it... where will you toss it?" She could not help but tease the old fool... she felt more powerful and more at peace and in control than she had felt for years. At last she had a very real chance at ending her nightmares.
The old man looked at her oddly from beneath his peaked cap and grinned slyly. He dropped the butt onto the deck of the ferry and stepped on it solidly. "Not in the ocean." He reached down and picked it up placing it within his pocket. He touched a hand to the brim of his cap in a salute and walked on. Cassandra saw the edge of a Watcher tattoo peaking out from his cuff as he saluted. She made certain she did not stare nor seem to recognize it.
After he'd left her, Cassandra faced the water rubbing her arms in the breeze. They had found her. The Watchers had found her. Perhaps one of the ones at the fire last night had noticed her there in the shadows. Had the old man intended her to know? She didn't think so. Still... she couldn't let him follow her... She wanted no word of her activities to reach Methos until she was ready for him to know it was she who was destroying his life.
The Watchers were friends with MacLeod... and MacLeod was, as yet, a friend to Methos. Cassandra feared word would reach her quarry... Then he would search for her. No... she needed him to be confused... to not understand how and why his hiding places were destroyed. She wanted him off balance and uncertain. Cassandra wanted Methos to feel the loss of his possessions and the people he loved one by one... until he had nothing and no one left. He would drop the mask then... he would show the world that he was still the evil one... then... even MacLeod would want his head.
Cassandra took a deep breath... letting it out slowly. This was one of those junctures that she must deal with. If Methos was to be destroyed... Cassandra had to act now. With a purposeful stride she followed the old man along the deck without seeming to. When he stopped to light another cigarette cupping his hands around the flame of the match she hesitated. When he leaned once more on the rail of the ferry to watch the gulls and the ocean pass by, and to flick his ashes... Cassandra knew her one moment had arrived. She seized it and appeared to trip... falling against him so that he lost his balance as well. She clutched at his jacket. Both of them went tumbling into the ocean where she dragged him down with her into the depths... until the green darkness took her and she lost her grip on him.
In her last moment of consciousness before she let death take her one more time... she seemed to hear Lilith's voice. "Foolish child... you have lost your way. As I feared, for too long have you traveled the paths of prophecy. Not all that you see must come to be... A seer must not seek the future for herself... but only for others. Your desire bends your vision." Cassandra let the words pass over her as surely as did the waters of the Channel... They were nothing... they were only words... and, as she had learned long ago, words had no power... no power at all.
***
Sometime later, Cassandra struggled awake as she floated on the surface of the water. She found a piece of wood drifting nearby and grasped it. With enough time, not even the ocean depths could hold an immortal struggling once more to live, to recover, and awaken. From here she could barely make out the shoreline of Northern France.
She began to kick... toward land... toward her goal... toward the next step in her plan to destroy Methos.
