Blair nearly breathed a sigh of relief as he recognized the 'intruders'.
"Jim, you scared the crap out of me, man!"

Jim holstered his gun. Beside him stood Simon and Rafe.

"What the hell are you doing here, Sandburg?" he asked at the same time as Simon said, "Do you realize that you're interfering with a police investigation?!"

Blair stared at them and then threw up his hands, "Interfering, who's interfering?!?"

"Who me—nooooo wouldn't dream of it...," he stopped in midsentence as he realized something. Everyone thought that he was interfering anyway--so what harm would it be in telling them, and just getting it over with? Besides, he couldn't think of anything else to do and he was tired of lying to them...and it was better that they be prepared. And so pushing his guilt aside and hoping that he wouldn't regret it later, Blair continued, "however, if I were to interfere…"

Blair took a deep breath saying it all in a rush—for he knew if he didn't say it quickly he would change his mind and not say it at all. "The tattoos are the symbol for the Watchers—a secret society of men and women who observe and record—but never interfere with—the goings on of Immortals. To become a Watcher they come to you—you don't go to them. You have to go through training at the Academy and be sworn in. I was a Historian so I didn't see many battles—I was just a temp. when I Watched Summs—he's the one responsible for the murders—but anyway, most Immortals don't know about the Watchers. However, when they do find out…well, let's just say that most don't like the idea that they're followed….Immortals do not age after their first death and cannot die unless someone cuts off their head. They can tell their kind by a sort of buzzing in their head when one is near. Immortals are part of a thing called 'The Game' during which they fight each other to the death because 'in the end there can be only one'…or so it goes…The winner takes his opponent's head and with it his Quickening—making him more powerful…And that's basically it," Blair finished looking around at his audience, nervously.

"You're kidding, right?" Simon asked.

"I wish I was," Blair answered.
"Most Immortals aren't like Summs though, in fact you could live right next door to one and not even know it—they usually don't harm mortals."

"So, basically we're after a guy who can't die?" Jim asked not liking this one bit.

"Well, he can die, but—like I said, you have to…" Suddenly he froze as Rafe silenced them. His jaw dropped as Rafe drew his sword our from under his coat.

They silently watched his retreating figure, then slapping his palm against his forehead Blair moaned, "How could I have been so stupid!" Brian Rafe—Brandon Ryf, last known location Russia, 1894. He had just willingly given information to an Immortal. The Council is going to have a field day with this. 'I can't believe I just violated every vow I made to the Watchers—and all in one day!' he thought with a groan.

Moments later, the sounds of clashing swords could be heard as two Immortals battled.

Blair had hurried them out of the house as the sounds of battle escalated; being inside the house while the Immortals battled was too dangerous. He had had a tough time convincing Jim that there was nothing they could do now. Inside the battle waged on. Then, suddenly, there was an unnerving silence. Blair gulped as he realized what this meant.

"We should probably get out of here just in case…" the end of his sentence hung in the air and even those not experienced in the aftermath of Immortal battles knew what he meant—the unspoken possibility that Rafe may not have been the victor. Lighting streaked the sky and windows shattered as the tree silently drove out of sight. They knew that if Rafe had not won this battle then they would be the next victims of Kyle Summ's…and there was nothing they could do to prevent it.

Two hours later

After debating on where to go, they had finally decided on the loft, which, is where they were nervously awaiting their fate. None of them spoke. Then, Jim's eyes flew to the door as he heard familiar footsteps. Seconds later, the door was opened to reveal Rafe; the victor of the battle. Secrets were shared that night and fears eased. In fact, they had all decided to go out for drinks the following afternoon to celebrate.

The next evening

Blair let out a contented sigh as he walked to where he would be meeting up with the guys. It had all worked out for the best. He froze, his smile fading, as a hand gripped his shoulder.

"Blair Sandburg, the Council would like to speak with you."

The End

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