Stalking the Darkness
by Aislynn
See Part one (Prologue) for disclaimers and warnings! Additional warning: SLASH (D / M), don't read it if you don't like it!Chapter 2: Nightwalker
Hybert stared open mouthed as the white mist rose and he felt a strange, powerful energy gathering and surging. He stiffened and warily turned back. Then the first energy bolt took the other man, and he drew back as fast as he could, nearly burned by the hot, concentrated energy. It was nearly as disturbing as the sun, and he hurried to bring himself into a save distance. Only when he was some thirty steps away he dared to stop and watch.
It was awesome. Lightning bolts rose out of he fallen body of the beheaded and rose to the sky, turning around, searching a target. Then they stroke, grounding them into the body of the standing man, who was helpless to avoid them. He had risen his sword above his head and was screaming as if he was in great pain. The energy was surging further, and then it could not ground it self all together in the screaming man anymore. It build palpable, and then suddenly all the windows in the alley splattered at once. Hybert took in his first breath in a full minute. 'That's it!' he thought. In the next few minutes there would be a lot of outraged people at the windows, screaming for the police... or not. After all, it was summer, and time of vacation. If they were lucky, there wouldn't be so many people at home... and they were near the university in a rather deserted district. Anyway...
Finally, the energy storm ended. The man he watched stopped screaming, slumped, then moaned and fell to his knees, crouching on the ground. The energy vanished. Then, there was only this man remaining, crumbled into a ball, somehow still sobbing silently as if he was still in pain. Hybert stepped warily closer. The sobbing ended. The man on the ground rose his head and stared at him. Then he finally managed to get back on his feet.
He looked like a cornered animal.
o o O o o
Methos saw the man who had just saved his life and watched him taking a Quickening warily coming closer. Not a watcher, then; or he wouldn't have interfered, and obviously he never had seen a Quickening before. And besides, Watchers didn't use to carry a set of deadly throwing knifes.
Nor did ordinary passants or harmless tourists.
And aside from that, for being anything normal the man seemed far to calm.
The man came closer, watching him in obvious curiosity. Their eyes met again, and only then Methos remembered where he had seen him before. It was the man of the party.
The man stopped just in front of Geraldy's corpse and a few, wary steps out of the range of Methos broadsword.
"Oh," he said with some awed surprise, "you are one of them".
Methos narrowed his eyes again, quizzically. "Them?"
The man nodded. His voice, as he got on, caught something like the quality of a sing-song, as if he was quoting an old tale.
"Them. Daywalkers. Walking the day, still breathing, but living as long as our kind. Forever hunting each other, fighting to survive. The winner drinking the losers power to add to his own strength. I've heard tales about you, but I've never met someone of your kind before; at least if I did, I did not recognize them."
Methos asked warily: "Tales? What kind of tales? And who told them?"
The other man smiled.
"Oh, only some tales that something like your kind exist. And I've been told them by the oldest of my kind. The oldest ones I know," he corrected himself, still watching in curiosity.
Methos narrowed his eyes further. The other man was no Immortal, not even a pre-Immortal. But he was no normal human either. His voice was too calm. He stood to still. And while he himself was still breathing in heavy heaves the other man seemed to breath very flatly, visibly only when he spoke. His eyes were oddly light and his skin was very pale, even for European standards...
"And what exactly are you and your kind?" he finally asked, shunning away from the absurd idea forming in his head.
The smile of the man deepened, and then, for the first time, he bared his teeth, showing his canines. Canines that could be considered as way too long, if one looked closely. It was only for a moment, than his upper lip covered his teeth again, and the moment had been too short to be really sure. Still, Methos felt a chill running down his back.
"I'm one of the others," the man said. "Night-Walkers. Walking under the moon. Not sharing the gift of breath anymore. Banned from the light of the sun forever. But Immortal like you."
He shrugged. "But unlike you, we need blood to sustain us."
Methos stared.
"Vampires;" he translated, breathing almost in awe. He didn't know if the man was insane or if he indeed told the truth. But he had heard some tales, too. He just never had met one of them, and so he had doubted their very existence.
"Tell me you're for real!"
"I am," the man said. Then he shrugged his shoulders and cocked his head.
"I wondered about you. I followed you all the night because I felt you were something special, but I could not place you. I'm honored to meet one of you're kind."
He bowed his head a bit, but without leaving Methos for one moment out of his sight.
Careful, Methos mind stated automatically, no easy target. At least not if somebody near him had a sword.
"You stalked me," he said, and it sounded not a bit amused.
The man shrugged. "I was curious;" he stated nonchalantly.
"What about this one?" he nodded to the other dead body still lying at Methos feet. "Why didn't he gave some kind of a light-show, too?"
Methos seized him critically. "You don't know very much about our kind, do you?"
The man shrugged again.
"As I said, I never had the opportunity to meet one of you before;" he stated simply. "Will you behead him, too?"
"Why should I do that?"
The Vampire shrugged.
"I thought maybe that was what triggered the light show. After all, they both are dead, but this one-" he nodded to the headless body - "gave you his power, while this one" he nodded to the other, "did not."
Methos cocked his head, still seizing the man, trying to measure the kind of danger he might prove to be.
"Maybe this one was not one like me," he said.
The man shot him a quick look, then smiled again.
"Maybe;" he stated, obviously amused. "He felt like one of your kind."
Methos eyes narrowed further. "You can feel us?"
"In a way," The Vampire said warily. "I doubt that every one of my kind could recognize you as special, save perhaps the old ones. But I have some special talents. I can feel power."
He shrugged again.
"You feel... older than mortals. More weight of experience. So did your friend at the party. So did these two. So I think this is a characteristic of your kind."
He sighed.
"Do you mind stepping back a bit?" he asked then politely, but still amused. "Because I really would prefer to get my knifes back, now."
Methos shrugged.
"Be my guest;" he said, not stepping back at all. "I wont stop you."
A spark lightened in the eyes of the Vampire and his amusement seemed to deepen.
"Oh, you see, in the presence of long, pointy things I use to get a bit touchy..." he gave a nod to the other mans sword.
Methos could not help to smile a bit.
"Of course;" he answered sarcastically, then cleansed his sword at the dead mans clothes and stepped back. The Vampire crouched near the other dead body a moment and retrieved his two daggers so quickly that Methos couldn't have gone after him even if he had tried.
But he didn't. Whatever the other man was, if he indeed was a Vampire then legend had it that he would not easily be killed by a sword, and there were still his other knifes... and after all he did know how to kill one of them, now.
"You saved my live;" he said instead. "Why did you do that?"
The Vampire got up again and smiled.
"I followed you. I was curious about you. And I don't take it well if somebody I am curious about gets killed before I had any chance to know him;" he said, matter-of-factly. "Besides, it didn't look exactly like a fair fight."
He shrugged again. "At least, you said something like that..."
Methos tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Thanks;" he stated dryly.
Then he gestured to the end of the alley and added: "Let's get out of here!"
The vampire nodded. "Okay. Where shall we go?"
"We?"
"You have a better suggestion?" the man asked. "We have to get away. Whatever this light show of yours was, it made a lot of noise and played some merry havoc with the glass and cars around here. Now, you want to ask me some questions, I want to ask some of you. Any suggestion where we could go to talk?"
Methos eyes narrowed.
"Who says I will give you some answers?"
The other man smiled. "Of course you would prefer to let me walk away into the night without knowing anything about me after I just witnessed that ?" he asked with a small gesture to the two corpses.
Methos cursed. Without a further word he turned around and started to move. "Coming?!" he asked across his shoulder.
He was too late.
The sudden surge of Immortal presence alarmed him and then a soft gasp at his feet, as did the shocked intake of breath of the Vampire a half second later. He turned around. Then he added more curses to the first. Geraldys student was with them again.
Methos saw the Vampire stare with wide, then narrowed eyes, while the former dead man coughed, grabbed his throat and then finally pulled himself up to his elbows, staring around with wide, haunted eyes. He apparently registered the close surge of presence and gasped anxiously: "Marcel?! That you?"
In the same moment, the Vampire gasped: "What the hell?! He's not...!?"
Methos cursed silently under his breath and, before the student could gather his wits about him, laid his sword on the other man's neck.
"Stay put!" he commanded. "Your name is Phillip?"
The other man's face came around and huge, scared eyes met his gaze. The younger Immortal nodded, then ceased in the middle of the movement when he felt the cool steel at his throat. In a barely audible voice he asked "Where's Marcel?"
Clearly he wasn't thinking straight yet.
Methos sword caressed his neck and came up under his chin.
"He lost;" he said, deadly calm. "As did you."
Damn! Damn it to hell! He wasn't in any shape to take just another Quickening so close after the first; Marcel Geraldy's memories and feelings racing through his mind were hard enough. He had hoped to get away before the student revived, maybe get Mac to deal with him or at least deal with him later. Now he would have to take this stupid three-damnable youngsters head, and he wasn't ready.
Let alone in any shape to fight.
But it would be stupid to let the little bastard just walk away, now, either.
"Please!" Phillip sputtered, "Please don't kill me! I don't want to die! Please, I did only what he told me to, he forced me! I didn't want..."
Methos eyes became even more deadly.
"You broke the rules," he said.
Phillip swallowed. "Please!" he repeated. "Let me walk away!"
At least, the youngster showed promise. Not afraid to beg and trying to talk himself out of a situation like this... not a bad trait for the capacity of survival. Maybe, Methos mused, if he spared him, the kid would be capable to learn.
And he really didn't want to take another Quickening...
But at first he had to scare the shit out of him to make sure the boy would take his lesson to heart and stopped cheating in the Game like his teacher.
Coldly, Methos growled: "So you can try it again?"
"I won't! I swear!" Phillip choked. "It was his doing!"
"You would have killed me!"
"I wanted to save his head..." the boy whispered. His voice was small, pathetic. "Please! I won't break the rules again. Let me go!"
Methos sighed in annoyance and took his sword away.
"Oh, all right!" he stated, with just the right measure of growling in his voice, "I doubt your head's worth anything. Walk away. Just remember" - and with that his voice got a deadly, menacing quality and the steel of his blade caressed Phillips neck again - "come across me again, or break the rules again, and you're dead!"
With that, he removed his sword and stepped away. Not that he cared a bit if Phillip learned, or that he felt particularly forgiving, but he really did not want to take another head in the same night. One Quickening was more than enough to deal with.
He watched the boy scramble to his feet and bend to get his sword, turning to go. Then he looked at his strange companion. Too bad. So now the man knew for sure that only a beheading would kill them... He saw the alarmed expression on the vampires face a heartbeat before he heard his shout.
"Watch out!" - but he was already turning and his sword defeated the swinging blow at his neck in the last moment. In the very next, his instincts took over and with a sudden turn his blade sliced through the neck of the student, without giving him time for any further fight.
Geraldys student had decided to join his teacher. The Vampire moved back unnaturally fast, and Methos shook his head in denial as the mist reached for him, clung to his sword and braced himself. Then he screamed in mindless agony as the lightning bolts took hold of his body and yet another mans mind swept his spirit and fought for a place in his soul.
When Methos came to himself again, he heard sirens nearing over the thundering in his ears and strong, but unaccustomed cold hands grabbing his arms, sneaking under his shoulders and dragging him up and away.
"Come, Damnit!" he heard an unfamiliar voice. "We have to get out of here!"
Before he could start to think, he was half dragged, half carried away and finally the other man just picked him up and ran away from the approaching sirens. It was several blocks away behind a safe entrance, when he finally put him down.
Methos heaved shaking breathes; his body was still trembling from the energy overload. The other man was not even breathing shallow. No, Methos registered, with a start; in fact he did not breath at all! But there had been this gasp of shock before... must have been old habit.
Trembling, he concentrated on gathering his wits and looked around him. His eyes grew wide. He knew this place. This was the middle of the Arena de Lutete. He had seen it when they still had held games here, and later... now it was a tourist attraction. But at this time of the night, they were here alone. But this was several streets away from where the fight had been! How...
Shaking, he rose his head and gazed in the other man's eyes. "You can fly, too?" he asked.
The Vampire laughed and shook his head.
"No," he said, "but I can move very, very fast. Here they wont find us. And I am sure nobody saw us going."
He had moved too fast for this, risking to give some unsuspecting mortals a scare, but he didn't say this. At least, they were safe from detection by the police.
Methos tried to calm himself. Not easy with every bit of his nerve ends hurting and the energy of two Quickenings racing along his nerves. Let alone the mind of two killed Immortals fighting his own for control. One alone was hard enough. Two...
A single thought formed in his mind, and took residence there.
Duncan! He had to go to Duncan! He had felt the Highlanders shock and desperation in his soul in the moment the first Quickening took him and the energy overflow surged across the strange link they shared since Bordeaux towards the Scot, and the even greater shock during the second Quickening just before he himself had passed out. The Highlander must be out of his mind by now, sick of concern. He had to get to him! But he knew with certainty that, while he wasn't that far away from the barge, he never would made it there without help.
Alright. Take the Vampire with him to the Highlander. At least, Duncan would want to meet the man who, twice in this night, had saved his lovers life.
Gasping, Methos forced out: "I have a friend nearby, who can give us shelter. If you help me, we can get to him."
There was no alternative; he could not afford a cabby with the police looking for a killer and the torn state of his clothes, and he could certainly not make it to the barge alone in his current state. And his cell phone was fried by the Quickening. Again. This started to get annoying.
The vampire nodded.
"Let's go, then," he said.
"By the way," he added, while his left arm sneaked under the right shoulder of his compagnon, "my name is Hybert de la Mare. May I ask yours?"
Methos gave him a tired, crooked smile.
Carefully to the end, he thought. Trapping his sword arm. Devious bastard! But at least, this way he would be able to walk, somehow.
Starting to move, with the strangers subtle assistance, he answered:
"Adam Pierson. And I'm pleased to meet you."
TBC
So, so far this way. What do you think? -- Aislynn