A reviewer wants to know: Sometimes you frighten me with the violence and grotesque things you think of. I wonder what could make you go there?

Honestly folks... there is nothing in my personal life that is anything like this. I have always read books and watched films... and dissected both since I was very young. I have always created my own stories and characters based on the flaws I've seen and read about. As I may have mentioned during "The Shattered Soul" I have always felt that there are real monsters far more deadly than the ones created in fiction. My villains are as based on what I read in the news as much as those from books and film. When the time comes for the villain to be unmasked in fiction... he must be truly deadly... so that the hero's sacrifice and dedication are truly worthy.

Now... back to our story... --elle

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Chapter 105

Liverpool

Burt slammed on the brakes as his car pulled in front of Laura's home. She'd moved here just after re-marrying a few years ago. Then Graham had suddenly died last spring of a stroke. Laura had seemed to take it in stride and had simply concentrated on her life and her grandchildren.

Burt wasn't especially close to her, nor Amy any longer, but they were fond of her.

Burt jerked open his car door and slammed it behind him. He'd noted the car parked carefully… precisely within the lines of the parking space, unlike his own.

It had Paris tags.

Just beyond it was another car. Glancing at the front seat… Burt saw his two dead men.

He pulled his gun and raced across the street and up to the glassed outer door. He peered through… but was unable to see any movement. Vaguely, he recalled that Laura had a silent alarm system on this place. Swinging around… he kicked soundly at the door and the glass shattered. That should bring the authorities! Burt stepped through the opening… his gun held before him.

At the solid wood inner door… he tested the knob… relieved to feel it turn in his hand. If he were wrong about Mischkov's being here… he'd explain to Laura… and pay for the damages. Gently he opened the door.

It met resistance.

Burt peeked around the edge and saw Laura's body on the floor. He also saw the blood. Shoving the door against her… he opened it further and eased in… his gun aimed before him as he crouched defensively.

Silence!

Burt strained to hear anything… then stepped cautiously over Laura's body. At the muffled sound of a cry… he turned.

There in the archway to the parlor stood Mischkov… a struggling Abigail gripped tightly in his arms. He had one hand over her mouth and a gun pointed at the child's head. Abigail's eyes were widened in stark terror. She trembled and kicked futilely against her captor.

Burt aimed.

Mischkov leered and tightened his finger on the trigger. He chuckled and licked the side of Abigail's face with his tongue… his mad eyes never leaving Burt's.

"Where's my son?" Burt shouted. In the distance he thought he could hear sirens.

Mischkov shrugged slightly with an amused expression.

Burt cricked his head and fired… praying that his aim was true… that all the time he'd spent on firing ranges and his knowledge of human anatomy would prevent Mischkov's ability to fire off a shot.

A bloody hole appeared in the center of the Watcher's forehead. His eyes glazed over as the blood began to dribble down. Behind him on the wall… Burt saw a spray of blood as the back of the man's skull exploded.

Mischkov's face went slack… as did his arms. Burt reached forward to grab Abigail away from the dead man. He held her sobbing form in his arms as Mischkov's body sank slowly to the floor.

Outside the sirens wailed.

Officers hit the opening of the shattered door. Burt raised his gun hand and surrendered. He closed his eyes and held his daughter tightly as she clung to him in sheer terror and relief… her tortured cries tearing into his soul.

-----

The Liverpool police remained cautious as they approached the surrendering man. He gave them his gun and closed his eyes as he held on to the screaming child. They pulled her away from him and forced him to his knees his hands behind his head.

Yelling at him, they examined the other bodies.

"Please," the man said urgently. "Find my son!"

At about the same time, a female officer yelled from another room. "I've another one!"

The man attempted to rise and was pushed down. His hands were handcuffed. His identity papers were pulled from his pocket.

"Mr. Meyers?" the sergeant asked. "Mr. Burt Meyers?"

Meyers nodded toward Laura's body. "That's my mother-in-law. This man broke in and was holding my daughter. I shot him. My son?" He looked around.

The little girl wriggled free of the officer holding her and raced toward her father… throwing her arms about his neck and screaming, "Daddy!"

The female officer returned to the hallway, a boy's unconscious body in her arms. A huge lump, already turning black was on his otherwise pale forehead.

"Is he?" Meyers asked fearfully.

"He's alive… but he likely has a severe concussion. Call for the EMT's!" she barked to her sergeant as she lay the boy on the floor next to his handcuffed father.

"Dawson," Meyers managed to say. "Dawson… can you hear me?"

The sergeant uncuffed him. "Don't make any sudden moves, sir."

Meyers nodded and, with one arm about his terrified daughter, leaned over his son to brush his light brown hair away from his eyes. Then he sobbed.

The sergeant looked away as he called in his requests for an ambulance and the coroner. "It's messy," he said curtly into his two-way.

-----

Burt was allowed to accompany Dawson to the hospital. He held tightly to Abigail as the emergency room personnel checked the boy over and ordered tests.

Others came to take Abigail from him.

She screamed and clutched to him tightly.

"Baby… I'll be right here. You need to go with the nurses so that the doctors can be certain you're okay."

Anna continued to shake her head and sob, "No!"

Burt finally pulled her loose and held her out from him. "I have to go with Dawson. I won't be far. As soon as they know you're fine… they'll bring you back to me." He looked at the nurse for confirmation. She nodded. "See, Baby… they just want to help."

Within him he worried if Abigail would ever be all right… or if this experience had scarred her forever. He waved as the nurse carried her away… then he followed Dawson to the MRI chamber. He stood outside watching with worried eyes the still small form of his unconscious son.

"Mr. Meyers," a plainclothes officer said. "Once your children are settled, we need a statement from you."

Burt nodded. Then a thought forced it's way into his skull and would not leave. "Mischkov's body… where is it?"

"Downstairs at the morgue," the officer said.

Burt nodded. He'd have to manage to get down there. There was one more thing he needed to do… for his own peace of mind… even if it meant the police locked him away.

-----

As darkness gathered outside… Burt sat by the bedside of his unconscious son. Abigail lay sleeping in his lap. She was fine physically… although the doctors were suggesting trauma counseling. Burt had nodded… he agreed.

He'd called Amy to tell her the children were fine. That he'd gotten there in time… at least to save their lives. His wife had sobbed over the phone. "I'll bring them home, soon, Amy. Just as soon as they let me go. Just take care of Joe… and the others."

He caressed his still trembling daughter and stared at the monitors beeping around his son. The concussion was a severe one. He might have brain damage. There was quite a bit of swelling and bleeding on the brain. Only time would determine if the boy woke up… and if he'd be all right.

Burt glanced at the officer keeping guard in the hallway. The man was talking to a nurse. His attention on her, and not on Burt.

He leaned down and kissed Abigail as he shifted her off his lap. Rising… he kissed Dawson and then… while the guard's attention was elsewhere… he slipped out of the room and into the dimly lit stairwell. Swiftly he descended the stairs to the basement and raced through the corridors toward the morgue. He slammed open the double doors and shivered for a moment in the cold.

The attendant dropped his cup of coffee. "What? What do you want?"

Burt grabbed him. "Which one is Mischkov?"

The attendant fumbled for clipboard. "Num… number B7," finally got out.

Burt glanced around the room. Grabbing a bone saw from a nearby table he slowly approached the bank of small doors. He opened B7 and stood to one side the saw lifted in defense.

The slab opened. Burt swallowed nervously and gingerly reached to unzip the black body bag.

"The man is dead. His brains were blown out!" the attendant yelled as he picked up his phone to call for help.

"I know," Burt said behind his gritted teeth. "I shot him."

Mischkov's eyes were open. They stared unseeing at Burt. His face betrayed no cognizance. Already Burt could hear footsteps. He didn't know how long it took for the immortals to revive. Burt Meyers knew he'd never get this close again.

He positioned the bone saw over Mischkov's neck and began to maneuver it back and forth as he pressed all his weight onto it. He heard the spine snap even as a guard sprang through the doors.

"Put that down!" the guard barked.

Burt pushed harder until the head was completely separated from the body. There was no quickening… but then… there wouldn't be. Not unless another immortal was present. Burt sighed and lifted his hands. "That's for Laura… and Joe… and Amy… and my children. That's for all the people you've murdered," he hissed and spit at Mischkov's corpse even as he allowed his arms to be pulled behind him and handcuffs once more placed on his wrists.

"You are one sick son-of-a-bitch!" the attendant snapped as he pulled the bone saw from Mischkov's neck.

Burt nodded. "Yeah…" He did not fight as he was led away. Mischkov was truly dead. Not even an immortal could survive that. The monster was dead… and Burt would pay the price for making certain of it. The main thing… he thought as he was led away… my children are safe now!

-----

Paris

Amy sobbed with relief after Burt's phone call. She stood by the window of Joe's room and tearfully stared at the darkening evening sky. My children are safe!

At the soft sound of movement behind her she turned. The monitors beeped steadily. Then one of them beeped slightly faster as Joe lifted his head and looked around.

Amy rushed to him. "Take it easy, Dad… everything's all right."

Joe's rheumy eyes met hers. He licked his lips. Amy reached for the jar of spring water and offered him some. He drank thirstily and then lay back.

"Burt called. The children are fine." Amy said with a smile as she caressed his face.

"Laura?" Joe whispered.

Amy's shoulders sagged and tears sprang to her eyes. She shook her head.

Joe closed his eyes and shuddered.

"Just rest, Dad… You have to get better. Dawson and Abigail will need their grandfather. Do you hear me?"

Joe nodded and then took a deep breath. Slowly he breathed it out. He smiled. "Doesn't burn so much anymore."

"I should have known, Dad. You are one tough old bird!"

Joe smiled. "Damn straight!" Then his face became somber. "Mac and the others?"

"We're working on that," Amy answered him. "We're working on it."