Chapter Forty-One
Roebuck Bay, Australia:

By mid-morning, Derrick had begun the repairs and replacements of worn items. By mid-afternoon, he had sent Wingate to see about supplies and had sent David to see about hiring a local crew to help check the hull. By dusk, he glanced around thoughtfully as if something were wrong.

"Has anyone seen Amber?" he finally asked. He'd assumed earlier that she'd gone sightseeing with Michelle, but the young immortal had returned from her shopping trip and he'd overheard that Amber hadn't gone with her.

Everyone looked around and shrugged. Derrick strode to the rail and stared across the marina. "I'm going to find her," he finally said as he slapped a hand onto the railing. He turned and went below to get his sword and a coat. He had a bad feeling about what had happened.

He was slipping the coat on and adjusting his sword when Cassandra knocked lightly at the open cabin door. She smiled. "May I come in?"

"Sure but I'm not staying," Derrick replied. He stepped toward the door and she blocked his way, her hands on his chest.

"Please… we need to talk."

"Later," Derrick murmured and pushed her hands off of him, "after I've found Amber."

"We need to talk now," Cassandra repeated with an inflection that froze Derrick's feet to the cabin floor. The air seemed thick and hard to breathe. He felt hot… and a little dizzy. He opened his mouth to reply… but nothing came out. "That's it," she continued smoothly, her voice still reverberating on his senses, "you must stay and listen to what I have to say." She kicked the cabin door shut. She lifted a hand behind her to the bolt and shot it so that the door was locked.

Derrick weaved slightly. He shook his head to clear it, and felt her hands on his face. He blinked several times, trying to clear his thoughts and his vision.

"I'm not your enemy. You must not go after her."

"I have to find her. I can't do this without her," Derrick insisted, uncertain if the words were actually spoken aloud or only in his thoughts. A great lethargy was descending on him ever more heavily with each word Cassandra spoke.

She laid her hands on his chest and smiled at him. "You have me now." She lifted her lips to his mouth and brushed them across his lips and nose. He shuddered. His mind felt wrapped in cotton as if he were sinking swiftly into a morass from which he'd never arise. Cassandra's hands moved up around his neck and pulled his face to hers. She kissed him… and continued kissing him while she stepped forward, forcing him to step backward. Five steps later, his legs were against the bunk. "Make love to me," she whispered between kisses. Her hands slipped back to his chest and slid his coat off of his un-protesting shoulders and down his arms. "Make love to me now," she insisted. She confidently unbuckled his belt.

Derrick couldn't move. He felt one of her hands slip inside his jeans and felt his response. "No!" he screamed mentally. Her heady scent of musk filled his nostrils and seemed to add to his growing need . He moaned as she caressed him. He felt like he was paralyzed.

Cassandra pushed him down on the bunk and then stepped back to remove her own gown. She wore nothing under it. As it fell to the floor, she kicked it away with a bare foot and closed in on him once more. She pushed him back on the bunk and straddled him, letting her long mane of hair trail on his chest. Her hands moved over him… removing his shirt and easing his jeans down. Then she lay above him, kissing him insistently.

Derrick groaned… some inner voice yelling that he needed to get out of here… that he had other concerns. But biology, or her voice, or her musky smell, or maybe all of the above combined so that responding to her advance was all that he could think of. He grabbed her to him as he turned her over and held her hands down. Her eyes widened and then she relaxed as he began to kiss her. He could feel her move beneath him and nothing in the world seemed as important. He released her hands, and they wrapped around his back, even as her legs now wrapped about his hips. He wanted her… and he would have her… now. The little voice in his mind was drowned out by the urgent sounds the two of them were now making.

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It was dark when he awoke. The yacht rocked easily in the changing tide. He knew his ship well enough to know her every sound. Derrick felt like he had when he'd first reawakened after his death. Everything seemed so clear. Every sound was crisp and new. Every shadow in the dark cabin, seemed sharp. Every scent he smelled filled him with longing.

He turned to the woman balled up and sleeping beside him and smiled. Amber was good for him. She kept him rooted in this life. He stretched a hand out to caress her bare back. She arched her back at his touch, rolled over and leaned over him with a smile, her dark hair falling on him, her musky scent enveloping him again.

"Go to sleep Derrick," she said.

He closed his eyes and went to sleep.

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Daylight.

Derrick stared blankly at the shaft of daylight from the porthole. He could see dust mites rising. He sucked in a deep breath, held it… then let it out with a loud whistling sound. Nothing seemed real. Had he died? Where was he? What was happening? He reached out to the other side of the bunk… empty.

He made a fist in the bedclothes as feelings of bereavement and loneliness crept over him. She'd left him. As the cabin door opened and Cassandra entered, she flashed him a smile and locked the door.

"No," Derrick said as he sat up. "I have things to do." What things he couldn't recall… but he was certain they were important.

Cassandra dropped her caftan and climbed in next to him. "Shhh. It can wait." She nuzzled his neck, her tongue tickling it greedily while she hummed. Her humming made him think of hot summer days and fields of tall grass filled with wildflowers and bees. He let out a deep breath and kissed her as he pulled her close.

Later he stretched next to her, playing with her hair. He was drenched in sweat… as was she. The cabin smelled musky like sweat and sex. Underneath it all he could smell the salt air of the ocean. He closed his eyes and drifted for a moment on the feel of the ocean rocking the boat.

He turned to gaze at Cassandra's face, noting that despite seeming very pleased and relaxed… she wanted something… needed something… something more… something he doubted even she knew that she needed. His mind coalesced around that thought as he stared at her. Despite the warm, fuzzy feeling of the day, this thought felt cold and jagged. Some old memory within him recognized that thought and embraced it as the way life had been. He hadn't been troubled by old memory… Darius' memories… for a long time. But this thought was breaking through his calm acceptance of what was… insisting on another course of action.

He leaned on one elbow as a grim sneer settled on his mouth. He moved her dark hair aside and stared at her nude perfection. He rolled onto her, kicking her legs apart as he held her hands above her head with one hand. Her eyes snapped open. She started to speak as his other hand grasped her throat. "Not a word. Not a sound." She struggled, only exciting him more. She was his conquest… and rape was what she most needed.

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When he was finished with her… he strangled her and then dressed. After stumbling to the deck, he gazed around at the others.

"Look who's decided to come up for air," snorted Caspar bitterly.

Even David shook his head. "Oh Captain, my Captain," he quoted and spit at the deck.

Derrick shook his head, trying to find his place in the here and now. He rushed to the rail. They were still in Roebuck Bay. They hadn't left. He grabbed Masahiro. "How long?"

"Two days," his teacher said simply.

"Amber?"

Masahiro shook his head.

"I have to find her."

Caspar snorted as he flicked a cigarette into the water. "Big man. You've got to have them all. Who's next? Michelle?"

Derrick shook his head, holding it and bent over as he turned with a strangled cry. "No! She did something!"

Masahiro stepped to his side and clasped his shoulders. "Concentrate."

Derrick met his even gaze and nodded. "Somebody get the bike out of the hold, now. I have to get out of here."

Burke and David took off. Derrick turned to Michelle. "Do you have any idea where she went?"

Michelle shook her head. "We talked a little the other night about going to Ayers… but I don't know."

Derrick stared at the shore. It was a thought. He could scout out the town and then work his way in that direction. Amber was likely on foot. Surely he could find her. A movement at the gangway caused him to turn sharply. Cassandra stood there, once more in the caftan, one hand at her throat.

Derrick growled as he grabbed her by the throat once more. "Not a word! Do you hear me? Not one damned word!"

Cassandra clutched at his fist. Her eyes bugged out slightly and tears formed at the corners. She gasped.

Caspar tried to pull him free. Derrick threw him off.

"She said something. It was like a drug." Suddenly he thrust her into Caspar's arms. "Hold her!" He did so. Cassandra struggled and opened her mouth.

Derrick held out a hand and snapped his fingers. "Knife!" Masahiro laid his in Derrick's palm. Derrick hefted it with a grim smile at Cassandra's obvious terror then raised it to her throat. He let the tip pierce her skin and noted the slight bleeding. "Not a word," he repeated softly. "If I hear a single word that is other than normal and an answer to my question… I will rob you of the ability to ever speak again. Do you understand?"

Cassandra nodded, barely moving because of the knife.

"What did you tell Amber?"

"The truth."

Derrick shook his head. "What truth?"

"That if she was with you… you would die."

Derrick roared and turned, almost throwing the knife. Instead he laid it against her throat again. "Your truth. The future you see is not necessarily what will be."

"Yes," she said with tears. "I see many possibilities. In all the ones where you died… she was there. I only wanted to save you. She left by her own choice."

The bike was lifted onto the deck from the cargo hold. Derrick stood back thoughtfully. He handed the knife to Masahiro. "She is not to talk. No one is to be alone with her. Keep her here until I return." He headed for the jet cycle, checking it over and making certain everything was ready to go. He initiated the start-up system, glancing up when Michelle handed him a package. "Food. You haven't eaten in two days." Derrick thanked her and stuffed it into one of the compartments.

"I'll find her," he said with a smile and glanced back darkly at Cassandra as he adjusted his helmet. "Watch her. And don't let her speak."

"Hai Derrick-sama," Masahiro said with a deferential bow. Derrick felt that somehow they'd changed positions if even Hikaru Masahiro was obeying him. Was it something of the old Darius? The one who'd led his armies across the face of the world, raping and pillaging? Did something of that old immortal that had helped him break free of Cassandra's spell still linger about him in the way he spoke? The way he moved? Derrick hit the accelerator and raced purposely down the gangway and across the marina in an attempt to outrun both his ghosts… and his destiny.

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Paris:

Fog was everywhere. In the pre-dawn light, it slid among the tombstones and over the marble angels. It pooled in thick white cotton puffs in hollows and made the world white and wet.

Duncan shouldered the bag of tools and kept looking. He no longer needed the flashlight, and he was mainly interested in the aboveground crypts. It made no sense for to Darius to have buried the artifacts in the ground. But nothing about this made sense to him.

He couldn't stop now though. He was too close to finding them. Not even Kate and their unborn child held more need for him at this moment. He had to find the artifacts! If anything happened to him before he did so… the others would never find them. He was certain of it. He had to find the crypt of Charles le Martin, find the artifacts, and ship them to Niebos. Once that was done… he was free to continue his search. "Forgive me Kate," he whispered to the swirling pools of morning fog. "But this might mean a future for all of us… not just you… and the child." Somehow, if anything happened to her, he didn't think Kate would understand. Duncan just wished he trusted Alistair to do what would be necessary.

He tripped over what he assumed was an exposed tree root, caught his balance and stopped still on the path. Les Innocents would open to the public in a few hours. He wanted to be gone by then. He'd started late last night and had used a flashlight and had covered about a third of the cemetery. He had perhaps another hour… two at the most before he'd have to leave and come back tonight.

Turning, he saw a crypt nestled among some overgrown bushes. He pushed his way through them and smiled. Charles le Martin was carved above the iron door. Duncan slipped the pack off of his shoulder and let it drop to the ground. He pushed and pulled at the doors. Nothing budged.

He rummaged through the tools and came up with a crowbar that he wedged into the seam and pushed. He gritted his teeth and pulled with all his might. Either way… nothing gave. Whatever locking system was on these doors, it was a strong one. He dropped the crowbar and made a trip around the small stone crypt. It was a small family one, likely holding no more than ten coffins. A small grate was in the gable above the door… but it was too small for entry.

Duncan crouched thoughtfully before the door and shown the flashlight over it. As the light flashed over some shadows he paused and gazed at them thoughtfully. He clicked the flash off as he thoughtfully drew the two chess pieces from his pocket. Could it be so easy? He'd remarked earlier on their unusual size and weight. He hefted them in his hands and then stood before the locked door. He reached out with his left hand and inserted the knight in one indentation. He inserted the bishop in the other. He pushed. Nothing happened.

Duncan closed his eyes, searching for another memory… anything that would help. But came up with nothing. He was on his own. Firmly he tried to turn the figures to the left and then to the right. Nothing happened. He wanted to shout curses into the air. This shouldn't be this hard!

"We each go our own way Duncan," he thought he heard Darius say. For a moment he saw the priest in the fog. He spread his arms. "Hopefully… whatever path we take will lead us to the same conclusions. There is no right or left path. There is only the one we travel." The spectre faded. Duncan grasped both pieces and turned them in opposite directions at the same time. This time… he felt as well as heard something groan and click on the far side of the doors. They shuddered and popped slightly.

Duncan smiled and moved his hand to the latch, lifted it again and pulled the door open. The air within was a bit stale… but held no remnant of death or moldering. He grabbed the flashlight and entered the stone crypt. As expected there were eight metal vaults, four stacked on shelves on each side… and one in the middle. He stood over the middle one and felt around the edges of it with his fingers. He neither saw nor felt any locking device. Was that it? Was that all that was needed?

He set the flashlight down and gripped the metal lid… groaning as he expended all of his immortal strength in attempting to lift it. "Aaarrrrggghhh!" he screamed as he pulled. But nothing budged. Duncan leaned on the metal vault wearily. With exasperation he suddenly yelled aloud, "Why Darius? Why bring me here and then not give me the final key? What else is there?" His voice echoed back at him. He listened to it die away and then stood straighter thoughtfully. Again he lifted his voice. "I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod!" As his voice died away, he heard a soft whir and then a click as the metal top of the vault shifted. He grasped it and moved it further aside.

Inside were stone tablets, scrolls, small funerary statues and other objects that he recognized from the computer disk. Reverently he touched them and then looked around at the other vaults. They must all contain some of the items. Duncan shook his head, and chuckled. How was he going to ship all of this to Niebos? And yet… to Niebos it needed to go. Only there could they spread everything out and examine it.

He pulled the vault shut and then stepped out of the crypt into the dispersing fog. After closing and re-locking the doors and pocketing the chess pieces, he gathered his bag and tools, and left the cemetery. He had some calls to make.

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