Chapter 3

Ste. Genevieve, September, 2006

Amanda motioned to Sister Luke, "… and sign here." She flipped a page, "… and here. That should do it!"

Sister Luke, once known as Lucia Cortez during the ninety-six years of her long pre-immortal life smiled and shook her head. "Are you certain I don't have to sign in blood Amanda?"

Amanda gave her friend an amused expression, smirking and letting a small and most unladylike snort sound in her lovely throat. One lock of Amanda's short dark hair fell over her eyes and she casually placed it once more behind her right ear. "No blood this time Luke… but maybe I can arrange a Faustian deal for you the next time." Amanda winked. In the three years she had been here… she and the elderly immortal had become fast friends.

"No… But I have noticed that since you began handling our financial affairs here… we seem to have quite a bit more money to operate."

"Well…" Amanda laughed, "whoever set up the accounts for this place did so centuries ago and while very good… they don't allow for modern business management to take advantage of legal loopholes."

Luke shook her head. "Well… my friend… we are supposed to be a convent… we are not supposed to be a money-making business."

"So," Amanda smirked and then continued lightly, "Now you are a money-making convent! Your wine is sold in all the best shops and restaurants in France!" She gathered up the forms, placing them in a folder as she tapped it against the desk. "I haven't broken any laws."

"Maybe not… but why do I still worry about letting a thief handle our finances. I keep remembering that old fable about hiring a fox to guard the hen-house."

"Reformed thief!" Amanda insisted, "Besides… I have always made it a rule never to steal from friends… Well… almost never to steal from friends." Amanda winked.

As Sister Luke laughed, Amanda took her leave. She hoped to be leaving here soon. It was time she moved on with her life, and she'd done all she could for the immortals here. She'd taught the child immortals survival techniques, languages, computers, and swordsmanship appropriate to their size. The mortal nuns, who were really companions and guardians of the children if they needed to leave Ste. Genevieve and wished to have a traveling companion… she had left to Sister Luke. The elderly woman had become prioress here after the unfortunate death of her predecessor, Marie-France, an immortal woman who had been closer to Amanda's age, than to Luke's.

Thoughts of Marie-France, a woman she'd barely met, caused Amanda to think of Nick Wolfe and his sacrifice. A sacrifice which had allowed their group of immortals to contain for a while the ancient dark quickening of Nestor… an immortal so depraved, that none of them had dared to kill him… take his head. Nestor had raped and brutalized Marie-France and had tortured Nick, crippling him permanently by removing body parts one by one. Marie-France had managed to give Nick her quickening in a rare moment they'd been alone. It was that act that had caused Nestor's unrestrained torture of Nick. But that torture had been his eventual undoing. Instead of begging for death from the others, Nick had offered to allow Nestor to be trapped within his crippled body.

Amanda wandered through the small convent garden to observe Nick sitting in a chair, a blanket over his lap. At his side was the child immortal Valeraine; Amanda could hear the girl's voice as she read to Nick in Russian.

Amanda smiled. Valeraine was no real child… except physically. She was eight hundred years old and had come to grips with her size and relative youthful appearance centuries ago. She and Marie-France had been great friends. Together they had managed to keep this place operating for centuries. Marie-France had run the convent… and Valeraine the school.

Now… Valeraine's only interest was in taking care of Nick… and by some extension perhaps, her dead friend. She was one of the few people who could manage the crippled and blinded Nick. If other immortals came near… the part of him that was Nestor tried to force their hand to kill him and take his evil into themselves. If any of the mortal women came too near… the wreck that was left of Nick Wolfe and Nestor made obscene movements as if attempting to rape them… or violate them somehow.

It did not matter that Nick had neither hands, nor feet, nor eyes, nor tongue, nor anyway to complete the acts he attempted. The evil was that even after three years… the thing inside Nick still tried. But alone with Valeraine, who would pay no attention to Nestor within… only Nick responded to her reading… grunting and swinging about the portion of the one arm he had. He'd wave and gesture with the fingerless hand… and nod his head… up and down for yes, back and forth for no.

Valeraine had asked for a wheelchair to move him about the garden more easily… but Amanda and Sister Luke had said no. They wanted Nick completely dependent on others. They would care for him. They would feed him and wash him. They would bring him to services in the chapel and set him in the garden on warm days. But he was not to have any means of getting around on his own.

It was a good thing they'd declined. One night, Nick had been found crawling blindly through the courtyard, attempting to get to the children's quarters. Ursa, the simple-minded giant immortal who also lived here, had gathered the ex-cop into his burly bear-like arms and had carried him back to his room and to his bed. After that… Amanda had instructed restraints were to be used at night. Even Valeraine had sadly agreed to that.

Amanda took a deep breath and slowly approached, almost hating to disturb the garden's occupants.

Nick's head lolled to one side and he sniffed the air. The ruin of his toothless and tongueless mouth worked open and shut. A raucous and unformed cry emanated from him.

Valeraine immediately ceased her reading and leaped up. One tiny hand on either side of Nick's face… she spoke his name calmly… until at last he seemed to focus on her and remain still.

Nick Wolfe had been a powerful man… broad-shouldered, a former boxer, football player… now he was a shell of what he once had been. Amanda's heart broke to see him this way.

Valeraine looked up at her solemnly. "What do you want, Amanda… Your presence here always upsets him."

"Just checking on how you two are doing." Amanda said lightly… hoping she did not betray her own sadness at what had become of the young man she'd once hoped to have tutored and trained in the immortal life.

"We are fine. We are slowly working our way through the convent library. When we finish… we shall begin again. Today we are reading Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment."

"In the original Russian?"

"Yes." Valeraine glared at her as she tossed her blond braids behind her and settled once more into her chair near Nick.

"Does Nick even speak Russian?"

"I translate… I read a passage and then I translate." Valeraine shrugged as if she thought that was obvious.

Nick was leaning forward in his chair attempting to reach Amanda. She stepped back.

As if he knew he made her uncomfortable… Nick began cackling in a laugh that sounded so much like Nestor's that Amanda felt chills go up and down her spine. He wanted to possess her. And if he ever found a way… he would.

Once more Valeraine called his name. Finally Nick leaned back in his chair, his shoulders shaking in obvious despair. Amanda had the feeling that if he could cry… her friend would be weeping now at what he had become.

Amanda saw the silent plea in Valeraine's young face and nodded. Silently, Amanda left the garden. From nearby she could hear Ursa begin to voice his centuries old chants to a nearby wall. The calm life, the care, the music, the sounds of children's laughter and soft voices… Amanda and Duncan had both hoped these things would help Nick regain his control over the darkness of Nestor as Duncan had managed to overcome his own dark quickening years ago.

Methos had also felt that time might be the deciding factor. They couldn't give him a sword and expect him to fight himself in a sacred pool… Nick would have to find another way to overcome the darkness and become himself once more. Then and only then… might someone be allowed to end his life, if that was what he truly desired. Until then, Nick Wolfe would remain as he was… poised between surrendering totally to the darkness that was Nestor and the emptiness of the life left to him.

But there were moments when he was alone with Valeraine, that the girl said he moved or seemed to be Marie-France… as if the calm light of her quickening had given Nick a buffer against Nestor's eternal darkness and helped him to survive at all. But Amanda had never seen this aspect in Nick… and wondered if Valeraine were speaking only from wishful thinking.

Meanwhile, she made certain that none of the children came too close… especially Kenny!

Too often Amanda had seen the boy's eyes glaze over whenever he watched Nick. Amanda recalled Nestor's words to Kenny shortly before he died. That he could make it possible for Kenny to have those things he could never otherwise have… and one of those was Amanda. Kenny had finally left here recently… but Amanda worried he might come back. Part of the reason she was still here was her fear that if Kenny returned… he might try for Nick's head… and with it… Nestor would have a new pawn and be free once more! Amanda shivered in the early summer heat. Despite the warmth… she was suddenly very cold.

SanFrancisco, October 2006

Alex Raven was fuming. Bad enough to have a blowout on her bike… but now it was raining. Not a nice warm summer shower… but a cold blowing one that blew from the west… from the ocean with fury. In the steady downpour she struggled to patch the tire so that she could get both it and her to a garage for a more permanent fix and a hot cup of coffee.

She glanced up at the car, which pulled over on the shoulder. Shielding her eyes from the bright headlights, she struggled to see who was there. Not an immortal… at least not one she could sense. Alex wiped her hands on her leather pants and stood.

"Hello… Who's there please?" She waited… her sword in its sheath on the bike within easy reach.

No one exited the car. It continued to idle and the wipers continued to push the downpour one way and another over the windshield.

Alex backed up. She leaned over her bike… her hand already on the hilt of her sword. She flinched at the thud hitting her side and stared down in amazement at the growing bloom of red across her chest.

"Bastard!" she grimaced as she felt the hilt slip from her hands. She staggered, and then collapsed against her bike and on to the wet pavement.