BJ, as I had come to think of him, jammed his sword into its scabbard, whirled
around, and stalked out of the shop, his long coat flying behind him. Mac paused
for a moment, glanced at me and JC, then sheathed his blade as well and headed
out after the guy. As he left, I noticed he was frowning. I remembered him saying
he "didn't like this." Well, I didn't like it either, but I was more concerned for JC
than myself. Maybe he didn't have as much reason to go after her as he did to go
after me or Mac, but it wouldn't be as hard to hurt her if he did try.
"So what's the deal with you and him, anyway?" I asked JC. Her leather outfit
creaked as she folded her arms and leaned against the wall.
"Not friendly," was all she said. I rolled my eyes.
"Really? I never could've guessed. Tell me another one." She stared at me for a
long moment, looking like she was trying to decide how much to tell me.
"I got involved where he didn't want me," she finally said. "Now he expects me
to pay."
"Pay? How?" She rubbed her fingers together in the 'money' sign. "Oh, you
mean literally – like, in the green." I raised an eyebrow. "What'd you do?" She
shrugged.
"I don't really see why you need to know that."
"Open your eyes," I joked, trying to make her feel more comfortable, but
something was bugging her. I couldn't tell if it was old Jack or something else.
She had the sort of face that betrayed nothing she didn't want it to. "I'm just
curious – and you know, Mac and I could help you get rid of Blackie there, but
we may need to know why he dislikes you. Whaddya call it, his motive." She
snorted and started walking toward the door.
"I still don't think you need to know," she stated. "Don't worry about me, I'll be
fine. You two just stay out of this – my world is a world you don't belong in." I
made a face. Her world? I was beginning to wonder just what sort of world she
did live in.
"You'll be fine?" I asked. "You didn't seem 'fine' earlier, when you charged in
here like the devil was on your heels." She spun around and rooted me in place
with an icy glare.
"Don't mess with me," she said in a low voice. "I'm not the only one who won't
appreciate it." Then she turned and walked out the door, leaving a shocked me
standing in the middle of the shop. I almost ran after her, but remembered the way
she had disappeared the other day after the alley incident, and I realized I would
probably never catch her.
Wandering slowly back toward the workroom, I puzzled at her sudden change in
mood. When she had arrived, she was nervous and seemed anxious to warn me
that I was in danger. But during the short time she was here, her attitude had
turned around so that she stalked out of the shop threatening me. What was the
deal? And why did she always have to run away when I wanted to talk to her?
A few minutes later, after I had gone back to collapsing those infernal boxes, I
sensed another immortal. Putting down the box I was trying to tear into confetti, I
looked around for a weapon. There were no swords handy, but I saw a shorter
blade on Mac's worktable nearby. I shrugged, picked it up, and snuck into the
front of the shop to scout around.
"I'm Richie," I called, "Get out here." That was my version of Mac's "Duncan-
MacLeod-of-the-clan-MacLeod, show-yourself" spiel. Since I wasn't Richie-of-
the-clan-of-anything, I didn't have a lot to say.
"I'm right here," said Mac's voice sarcastically. "What do you want?"
"Oh, it's you," I retorted. "Damn, I was hoping it was someone interesting. I
guess I'll just go back to work now." Mac came into sight around one of those
rice paper screens that Tessa likes to sprinkle about.
"Same to you," he retorted. "Mind if I help?" I cocked an eyebrow.
"You would dain to help your servant the lowly Richie?" He ignored me in favor
of the weapon I was holding.
"What are you doing with that?" he demanded. "Fencing with statues again?"
"I didn't know who had entered your domain," I replied, waving my arm to
indicate the shop behind him. "I was prepared to risk life and limb to defend it,
and my head." Mac rolled his eyes.
"Well, next time, don't stake your life or your limbs on that, please."
"It was the only thing around!"
"So next time, have something else around." I sighed dramatically to let him
know what a pain he was being, and retreated to my boxes. Mac followed me,
however, and starting helping, just as he had threatened he would.
"He disappeared," he stated.
"What?" I asked. "Who disappeared?"
"Black Jack, who else?"
"Oh. Just like JC – she disappeared, too." Mac nodded.
"You mentioned that she could do that." He paused for a minute, concentrating
on the box he was holding. "Richie, I don't like this," he finally said.
"So go back out and play owner, and let me finish." He fixed me with a glare to
rival JC's.
"You know what I mean. Don't fool around with this – Black Jack is dangerous.
I'm worried about JC, actually."
"Why?"
"Because Jack isn't the kind of immortal who issues direct challenges – he's like
a cat with a mouse. He can torture his prey for years before actually killing them.
He likes to see the pain, I think." I shuddered.
"Sounds fun." Mac stopped moving and held my gaze.
"I don't mean a physical sort of torture, with blades and fire and the like. I mean
mental torture. He kills all his victim's mortal friends until they have no one left,
and then he lets them live in misery for as long as he fancies before killing them.
By the time he is done, they're glad for the end. I think JC is his victim, even
though she's mortal. He will kill everyone she knows and loves, without mercy,
until she either goes mad or tries to end her life. He knows when a victim is about
to try to end it themselves, and he goes and does it for them. Richie, JC is in
trouble – more trouble than she can imagine."
around, and stalked out of the shop, his long coat flying behind him. Mac paused
for a moment, glanced at me and JC, then sheathed his blade as well and headed
out after the guy. As he left, I noticed he was frowning. I remembered him saying
he "didn't like this." Well, I didn't like it either, but I was more concerned for JC
than myself. Maybe he didn't have as much reason to go after her as he did to go
after me or Mac, but it wouldn't be as hard to hurt her if he did try.
"So what's the deal with you and him, anyway?" I asked JC. Her leather outfit
creaked as she folded her arms and leaned against the wall.
"Not friendly," was all she said. I rolled my eyes.
"Really? I never could've guessed. Tell me another one." She stared at me for a
long moment, looking like she was trying to decide how much to tell me.
"I got involved where he didn't want me," she finally said. "Now he expects me
to pay."
"Pay? How?" She rubbed her fingers together in the 'money' sign. "Oh, you
mean literally – like, in the green." I raised an eyebrow. "What'd you do?" She
shrugged.
"I don't really see why you need to know that."
"Open your eyes," I joked, trying to make her feel more comfortable, but
something was bugging her. I couldn't tell if it was old Jack or something else.
She had the sort of face that betrayed nothing she didn't want it to. "I'm just
curious – and you know, Mac and I could help you get rid of Blackie there, but
we may need to know why he dislikes you. Whaddya call it, his motive." She
snorted and started walking toward the door.
"I still don't think you need to know," she stated. "Don't worry about me, I'll be
fine. You two just stay out of this – my world is a world you don't belong in." I
made a face. Her world? I was beginning to wonder just what sort of world she
did live in.
"You'll be fine?" I asked. "You didn't seem 'fine' earlier, when you charged in
here like the devil was on your heels." She spun around and rooted me in place
with an icy glare.
"Don't mess with me," she said in a low voice. "I'm not the only one who won't
appreciate it." Then she turned and walked out the door, leaving a shocked me
standing in the middle of the shop. I almost ran after her, but remembered the way
she had disappeared the other day after the alley incident, and I realized I would
probably never catch her.
Wandering slowly back toward the workroom, I puzzled at her sudden change in
mood. When she had arrived, she was nervous and seemed anxious to warn me
that I was in danger. But during the short time she was here, her attitude had
turned around so that she stalked out of the shop threatening me. What was the
deal? And why did she always have to run away when I wanted to talk to her?
A few minutes later, after I had gone back to collapsing those infernal boxes, I
sensed another immortal. Putting down the box I was trying to tear into confetti, I
looked around for a weapon. There were no swords handy, but I saw a shorter
blade on Mac's worktable nearby. I shrugged, picked it up, and snuck into the
front of the shop to scout around.
"I'm Richie," I called, "Get out here." That was my version of Mac's "Duncan-
MacLeod-of-the-clan-MacLeod, show-yourself" spiel. Since I wasn't Richie-of-
the-clan-of-anything, I didn't have a lot to say.
"I'm right here," said Mac's voice sarcastically. "What do you want?"
"Oh, it's you," I retorted. "Damn, I was hoping it was someone interesting. I
guess I'll just go back to work now." Mac came into sight around one of those
rice paper screens that Tessa likes to sprinkle about.
"Same to you," he retorted. "Mind if I help?" I cocked an eyebrow.
"You would dain to help your servant the lowly Richie?" He ignored me in favor
of the weapon I was holding.
"What are you doing with that?" he demanded. "Fencing with statues again?"
"I didn't know who had entered your domain," I replied, waving my arm to
indicate the shop behind him. "I was prepared to risk life and limb to defend it,
and my head." Mac rolled his eyes.
"Well, next time, don't stake your life or your limbs on that, please."
"It was the only thing around!"
"So next time, have something else around." I sighed dramatically to let him
know what a pain he was being, and retreated to my boxes. Mac followed me,
however, and starting helping, just as he had threatened he would.
"He disappeared," he stated.
"What?" I asked. "Who disappeared?"
"Black Jack, who else?"
"Oh. Just like JC – she disappeared, too." Mac nodded.
"You mentioned that she could do that." He paused for a minute, concentrating
on the box he was holding. "Richie, I don't like this," he finally said.
"So go back out and play owner, and let me finish." He fixed me with a glare to
rival JC's.
"You know what I mean. Don't fool around with this – Black Jack is dangerous.
I'm worried about JC, actually."
"Why?"
"Because Jack isn't the kind of immortal who issues direct challenges – he's like
a cat with a mouse. He can torture his prey for years before actually killing them.
He likes to see the pain, I think." I shuddered.
"Sounds fun." Mac stopped moving and held my gaze.
"I don't mean a physical sort of torture, with blades and fire and the like. I mean
mental torture. He kills all his victim's mortal friends until they have no one left,
and then he lets them live in misery for as long as he fancies before killing them.
By the time he is done, they're glad for the end. I think JC is his victim, even
though she's mortal. He will kill everyone she knows and loves, without mercy,
until she either goes mad or tries to end her life. He knows when a victim is about
to try to end it themselves, and he goes and does it for them. Richie, JC is in
trouble – more trouble than she can imagine."