Chapter 78

Nestor drew in a ragged breath. His hands were bound behind him... handcuffs he thought. He pulled with force and felt the steel cut into his wrists. If he pulled hard enough... he might just get them off... given enough time. He tried to move and realized he was lying on his stomach on a board. A wooden partition was around his neck. He struggled to look up and realized where he was... the guillotine.

Roaring with laughter.... Nestor looked out at the immortals assembled before him. "You think this will stop me? You fools! My quickening will take at least one of you and you will be me! I will live on as I have before! Not even death can stop me! Even if you back away... it won't work. I will simply be reborn into a child you may never find until I rise once more! I am immortal! I am eternal! I am darkness! I am the demon who haunts your dreams until the end of time!"

The immortals regarded him calmly.

Nestor looked into the eyes of each of them. "Amanda," he whispered seductively. "We missed our time... I had such lovely plans for you." Amanda looked at him with hate. He stared at the boyman. "And you. I watched you slink through the shadows all over Paris... but you were nothing... no one feared you. Come closer boy and know me better. Take me and no one will ever sneer at you or your lack of size again. Together we can be the one." The boy's eyes widened slowly as if the idea suddenly had merit. "Ah..." thought Nestor, "the seed is planted." He looked at the little girl with the long blonde braids. "I had your friend. The young woman who came with you to Paris... She was delicious. In time... I will have you too." The girl closed her eyes and seethed with fury. Nestor smiled. He almost had her ready to attack.

Next he saw Phillip. "My friend... my dearest love... why have you turned from me? Am I not still your soul-mate? Come... join me... We can be as one again." But Phillip's face was hard as a rock. Nestor would get nowhere there. Next he looked at the champion... "MacLeod is it? Once you took one such as I... come... embrace me... as you know your own soul desires. Already the darkness in you begins to stir once more." The Highlander gave him a dark look... "He knows I speak the truth," thought Nestor with a laugh. Then he looked over at the old one... the one who'd been there before with Phillip. The one he sensed had once embraced darkness as his only love without having to take a dark quickening. "I am what you will be once more." Nestor's eyes glittered in anticipation. Before the old one was the small dark-haired woman. The old one held her as she stood leaning back slightly against him. Nestor smiled and cast out his last retort to the individuals of this group, "Oh little one... you tasted so good... if only we'd had more time... Come... take your revenge and I'll fill you to overflowing." But in her eyes he saw only calm. He was nothing to her and would never be anything else.

The immortals had not moved.

"Where is my bride and that foolish boy?" Nestor said with a nervous laugh, trying a new tactic. "She knows I am with her always. She will always be mine! Do they not wish to say farewell?"

Still the immortals said nothing. Then they began to look at one another and seem to make the decision. Nestor licked his lips... which one of them would it be. The last time they'd chosen that young one Barak... hoping his youth and innocence would protect him... it hadn't. Nestor had devoured all that Barak had been in moments. He had risen before them and killed two of them before they'd bound him in chains and left him in darkness. But he remained! He survived! He would survive once more!

Slowly the immortals began to shift aside so that Nestor saw who sat amongst them. Suddenly he realized what they had planned... he began to struggle and throw curses at them. They said nothing but slowly moved back... away from him. One by one they left the room and then shut the wooden door. Nestor was alone with the immortal he'd tortured... the immortal he'd so crippled that the man could do almost nothing. Almost...

Nestor saw where they'd tied a rope from the lever operating the guillotine to Nick Wolfe's one remaining arm. The end was wrapped several times about his arm. The sightless man gazed in his direction with a look... not of hate... not of revenge... but only a sad acceptance. Nestor had thought he would beg them for his death... but he'd misjudged the strength of the man... and his strong sense of justice.

Nick lifted his arm. Mangled words that made no sense came from his tongueless mouth... a strangled sob followed as he pulled sharply down with his arm and the blade of the guillotine fell.

Nestor saw the blade come and screamed!

***

The quickening seemed to roll in a darkness of red and black. Negative energy leaped from Nestor's corpse into the air. A swirling shadow of black rose from the body... hovered slightly and then shot into Nick's body. He couldn't see it... but he felt it. It was like an icy cold finger of death slicing through him as Nestor's knife and sword had sliced through him earlier. Nick lurched in the chair and felt lifted for a moment. Scenes of torture filled him. He was the one with the knife... he was the one raping and killing. He was the one designing ever more creative tortures that broke the minds and spirits of men. He was the one... he had always been since the dawn of time. Time after time... his host body died but the darkness remained and ever-new perversions were born.

Around him Nick felt the negative energy boom and implode as if he were at the center of an atomic bomb. He saw only darkness and felt darkness ooze into him as it slid along his nerve endings and kissed his sightless eyes. He had no way to respond to the darkness. He had no feet to walk toward it nor arms to grasp it to him. He had no tongue to sing its praises or eyes to behold its glory.

Then... deep within his soul there was a gentle light. All that remained of Marie-France flickered in the face of the darkness. Nick focused his inner being on that light. "A single candle can defeat the darkness," he'd learned in Sunday school as a boy. If he let her goodness and gentleness be that candle... perhaps he could hold onto some semblance of himself. "I am here," he seemed to hear her whisper. "I am always here. I will never leave you." Nick ignored everything but the small flickering light of Marie-France. Around him... the implosions were silenced and he felt his body settle once more onto the chair.

***

"It's stopped," Valeraine cried and tried to open the door.

MacLeod stopped her. "Not yet."

"He needs me!" she insisted.

Amanda's arms went about her shoulders. "We need to wait... just a little longer, Valeraine. Just a little longer."

After a few minutes of silence, MacLeod cautiously opened the door allowing Valeraine to race once more into the room. She had no eyes for the maniac on the guillotine... he was dead... as dead as any of them would be in such circumstances. Her eyes were on Nick, sprawled in a stupor on the chair, the rope still wrapped about his one arm.

Carefully Valeraine unwrapped the rope and caressed his face. It did not seem twisted in madness as they had feared... but calm... as if he dreamed of paradise. A strangled moan arose from his damaged mouth. He had no teeth, no tongue to help him speak... only grunts and mangled sounds issued forth. Valeraine lay a hand to either side of his face. "I'm here Nick... I'm here." He nodded and raised his one arm to embrace her. His shoulders shuddered and she thought he must be weeping, though no tears would ever fall from his sightless eyes.

Amanda approached slowly, sadly until she stood beside them. "How is he?" she asked fearfully.

"I think he may be all right." Valeraine said and hugged him.

Nick's arm lifted, seeming to search for Amanda. She came forward and his hand touched her arm. Then his face hardened. The fingerless hand rubbed harshly against her breasts as a maniacal laugh issued from his mouth. Amanda moved back shuddering.

"Nick!" yelled Valeraine. "Stop it... Nick please!"

Her voice seemed to calm him once more.

"He is Nestor... He will have to be watched," the Swordmaster said sadly.

"No!" cried the girl. "He's Nick... you'll see... He'll be fine." But even she seemed to realize the immortal's chances for returning to who and what he had been... were slim. But in this body... as damaged as Nestor had left it... they had this one chance to contain him... until someone could find a way to finish him once and for all.