Richie Ryan Macleod was far from stupid. He had eaten all his breakfast, dressed carefully to cover any remaining sign of his injuries and waited until Methos, who would realise exactly what he was up to, had disappeared on one of his mysterious errands, before he made his move. He grinned ruefully to himself, maybe all those years of trying to outwit his teachers and foster carers hadn't been entirely wasted after all.
"I don't know Rich," Duncan's frown stopped him in his tracks as he shrugged into his coat. "Are you sure you're up to it?"
Richie quickly pasted on his best "See, I'm fine" grin.
"C'mon Mac, its not like I'm gonna spar or anything. I'm just gonna be getting out in the fresh air, doing a little walking around."
"The last time you tried walking from here to the bridge it landed you flat on your back." Duncan retorted dryly.
"I'm Immortal. I heal fast."
"And what about Ares?"
"Its not like I can avoid him forever. Its my destiny or something."
"Still, maybe we should wait until Methos gets back?"
That was the last thing Richie wanted. He was absolutely positive that the Ancient Immortal wouldn't approve of what he had planned. He just hadn't banked on this Macleod being just as protective as his Da. He decided to try another tack.
"Alright, look I'll just go out for a quick spin on the bike. I won't even be walking."
"Nice try," that got him a tight grin. "It's still taxing your strength."
"Aw c'mon Mac," Richie resorted to his best puppy dog look. "I've been cooped up in here for ages. Just a few hours."
"Tell you what," Duncan bargained. "I'll go and get us something special for lunch. Connor said you like Chinese, right? If you eat something and have a nap afterwards we'll go out somewhere this afternoon. Okay?"
"A nap?"
"Take it or leave it, Tough Guy."
"Fine, alright, I'll take it," Richie conceded with bad grace, seeing a glimmer of hope in any plan that would leave him unsupervised alone on the barge.
"And while I'm gone I want you're word that you won't leave."
Inwardly Richie groaned. He had never been able to outwit Mac. Not even when they first met. He didn't know why he thought this version of the Scot would be any different. Still that didn't mean he had to give in easily.
"Mac, c'mon. Don't you trust me?"
"Your word as a Macleod laddie or you'll be eating dry crusts for dinner."
"Alright. My word on it," Richie scowled. "Satisfied?"
He would just have to try and think of some other way.
The trouble was, as he watched the T-Bird pull out into the traffic heading for the new takeaway Duncan and Tessa favoured, he hadn't been able to think of a single thing. He'd given his word, so he was trapped here for the duration, he just had to hope he could come up with a way to get round Mac before Methos, or Connor for that matter, returned.
He had picked up a pack of playing cards and was flicking them idly into a dish on the coffee table when he saw the Taxi pull up at the curb. Seeing Tessa get out he was on his feet and out the door before she had even reached the gang-plank.
"Richie!" Tessa greeted him, her eyes wild and flashing.
"Tessa, what is it? What's wrong?"
"How could you?" Her hand flew out, making contact with his cheek with a resounding crack, which blossomed into as deep red mark on his pale skin.
"Ow!" Richie protested, bring his hand up to rub at the reddened skin even as it began to fade. "What was that for?"
"How could you?" She repeated. "How could you sit there and tell me that you care about our family, about what we mean to each other. And then give your blessing while Duncan takes that .. that hussy .. as his wife."
"Oh great. This is just great." Richie growled. He was going to kill Amanda.
"And that other! We were together twelve years! More! And yet he cannot wait until I am cold in my grave."
Richie stilled. Amanda might just have been upset enough to let slip to Tessa that she and Duncan were married and had been for some years. But she would never ever have told her about Annie Devlin. Which could mean only one thing.
Ares.
"Tessa," He reached out and put a hand on each shoulder, so that she looked him in the eyes. "Where's Amanda?"
"Get out of my way Richie. I am going to speak to Duncan."
"He's not here. Now when did you last see Amanda?"
"Do you think I care about her!" Tessa retorted hotly.
"Well, I do," Richie reached out and took both of Tessa's hands in his own. "Holy Ground or not Amanda would never have allowed Ares to get so close to you. So, Tess, please, where did you see her last?"
"I do not know. I could not find her. So, I came here."
Richie tried hard to hold on to his patience. "When did you last see her?"
"I was sketching by the pond. She was going to the kitchen to make us some tea."
There were very few things in this world that would make him break his word as a Macleod. But this was one of them. He fished in his pockets and brought out the keys to the bike.
"Show me."
Halfway along the rarely used gravel path a single red shoe lay forlornly in the grass. A few feet away, behind a hedge they saw a pair of feet attached to Amanda's inert body.
"Is she ..?" Tessa couldn't ask, the bile rising in her throat.
"She still has her head. This is Holy Ground. Even Ares wouldn't dare cross that line," Richie bit his lip as he brushed Amanda's hair out of his face. He hadn't killed her, but he had gone out of his way to hurt her. "Let's get her inside."
"What shall we tell the nuns?" Tessa worried.
"Tessa," Richie rolled his eyes as he gently lifted Amanda. "They're nuns. You don't lie to nuns."
"Isn't that dangerous? What if they wish to call the Police?"
"They won't. If Darius made the arrangements you can bet the good sister have already encountered more than their share of Immortals."
Tessa was sceptical, but the Mother Superior accepted his explanation with little more than a raised eyebrow, merely instructing warm water, clean cloths should be brought to Amanda's bedroom.
"We'd better get her cleaned up." Richie moved to unbutton her dress.
"What do you think you are doing!" Tessa exclaimed, shocked.
"There's nothing worse than waking up all covered in blood. Trust me."
"Still, I do not think you should be touching her like that. It is not proper," She took a deep breathe. "I will do it."
"Tess, she's dead," he reminded her gently. "Its kind of icky."
He vividly remembered the first tie he had had to care for Duncan's dead body. It was decidedly unsettling taking care of a loved one when they were to all intents and purposes a corpse. It wasn't really something he thought she should be exposed to.
"She is dead because she tried to help me. It is the least I can do."
She braced herself before gently sponging away the pooling blood being careful not to touch the small flickers of blue light and making him turn his back as she dressed the body in clean clothing.
"Now what?"
"Now we wait." Richie shrugged.
"Tell me it is not true," Now that her initial anger had passed, the raw sadness in Tessa's voice cut into Richie's soul like a knife. "Tell me that Ares was lying and he did not sleep with this other Immortal so soon after I was gone?"
"You mean Annie Devlin?"
"If that is her name."
"Tessa," Richie scrubbed at his face, he did not want to be having this conversation. "Its complicated."
"It is simple, non?" Tessa's voice was tight. "He cannot have loved me as he said."
Oh Tess, it wasn't like that," Richie swallowed hard. "He did it for me."
"I do not understand."
"I'd only been Immortal a few weeks. Mac was doing his best to train me but I still had a lot to learn. I made a mistake. A pretty stupid one and someone got killed. Permanently."
"But this is what you do, non?"
"The guy was a mortal. But his wife had a pretty sharp sword."
"She came after you?" Tessa was horrified.
"I was so scared. I mean there was no way. No way I was gonna beat another Immortal," Looking back now he realised Annie Devlin hadn't actually been very good. She had spent more time devoted to her cause than honing her duelling skills, relying on a few old favourites like the move Duncan had taught him to keep the head hunters at bay. But he hadn't thought that at the time, just a few short weeks into his immortality. "I was so sure I was dead."
"Yet you are still alive," Tessa pointed out. "Duncan must have taught you well, non?"
"I was lucky. Mac taught me how to counter her favourite move. But I could see he was scared and that scared me more than anything. He knew if she had tried anything else. Or if she had picked up some variation on her travels I would have been dead," Richie looked over at her. "He loved you, Tess. You gotta believe that. Your death almost destroyed him. Sometimes I think teaching me, putting aside his own pain to take care of my needs, was the only thing that kept him sane."
"And how did sleeping with this other woman take care of your needs?" Tessa scoffed.
"You know Mac, he had this whole chivalry and honour thing going on. She'd always liked him. He thought that if she slept with him, they would have this connection and she wouldn't be able to go up against me."
"Oh Richie."
"I couldn't believe it when I found out. I was so angry with him. I felt like he'd betrayed you and trashed everything that was good about our family. I so totally lost it. I called him names like you wouldn't believe. His face got all twisted, I thought he was gonna knock me clear across the room."
"But he did not."
"He cried Tess. He told me how much he loved me. How much you had loved me. He said he couldn't bear to lose me too and he would have done anything to protect me. He said you would have understood."
Tessa thought about that. Thought about her Duncan and the way he was so protective of those he cared about. How he had looked when Richie was hurting so badly, as if he would gladly have bore his pain if he could. She didn't much like it.
But she could understand.
They waited almost an hour before something in Richie's demeanour warned her that their patient was about to revive. Never having had the opportunity to see Duncan rise from the dead she watched with a kind of morbid fascination as Amanda took a ragged breath and sat up.
"Ares?"
"Long gone," Richie assured her. "How are you feeling?"
"Like a pin cushion." Amanda sat up and frowned at her clothing.
"I could not find anything suitable for sleeping among your clothes," Tessa informed her. "So, I used one of my shirts."
"Oh, I don't usually wear anything in bed." Amanda purred.
"Amanda, behave," Richie warned. "Ares wasn't exactly paying is a social visit."
"Oh?"
Richie said something in a language Tessa didn't even recognise, but it caused Amanda's eyes to go flint hard with fury.
"Richard, why don't you run down to the kitchen and see if the nuns have anything to eat?" she suggested smoothly. "Dying always makes me peckish."
"Um, maybe I should just hang around here for a bit." Richie looked doubtfully from one to another.
"Ares won't be back. He'll wait to see how much damage his little scheme has wrought before he makes another attack." Amanda was speaking to Richie but her eyes were fixed on Tessa.
"Frankly I'm more worried about you two killing each other while I'm gone."
When they both shot him identical looks of exasperation he prudently withdrew.
"He told you." Amanda sighed.
"That you and Duncan were married? Yes. I do not understand it," Tessa got straight to the point. "You made it very clear to me that we were are rivals for Duncan's affections. Yet you died to protect me."
"Duncan loves you," Amanda shrugged a little self-consciously. "I would never do anything that would hurt him."
"I suppose you can afford to wait."
"It wasn't like that," Amanda assured her. "We waited almost a century before he was ready. He loved you. He always has."
"But it is you he marries." Tessa bit her lip.
"Oh," Amanda realised. "Of course, you don't know. How could you? He was going to marry you. He proposed the week before you were killed."
"You are just saying this." Tessa shook her head.
"No. Connor was flying in from New York. Richard was going to be the best man. You were going to wear blue," She shrugged. "Richie told me so I did not bring up any sad memories."
"He thinks a great deal of Duncan."
"He loves you both," Amanda sighed. "He was thrilled to be part of a family. He didn't get much love as a child."
"Perhaps, for his sake, we should make more of an effort to get along?" Tessa offered
"Did Duncan ever tell you about the time he was a trapeze artiste? Amanda smiled.
In a way, Richie mused, things had all worked out for the best. The day's events had allowed Tessa and Amanda to reach a new level of understanding and if anyone knew where he could begin his quest, it would be Amanda.
"Aw, come on Amanda," Richie wheedled. "You were always her favourite. You gotta know where she is."
"I wish I did. The house is closed up. There is no answer at the chateau," Amanda shrugged. "I don't know where else to look. If as Methos says that she is in Paris then she is not in any of the usual places."
"He said he'd spoken to her. He never actually said she was in Paris."
"Well, she never liked Italy very much," Amanda offered "Other than that."
"She could be anywhere." Richie realised despondently.
"Have you tried Darius? He always seems to know where everyone is?"
"The idea, Amanda dearest is not to tip Methos off to what we're doing."
"Then I don't know what else we can do."
"You must have some way of getting in touch with her. Some secret code or emergency contact number, just in case."
"I've already tried everything," Amanda shrugged. "Methos probably warned her we'd be looking for her. "
Richie sighed.
Amanda reached out and ran her fingers through his curls. "You thought she might be here, didn't you?" she asked sympathetically.
"I guess." Richie hitched a shoulder disconsolately. "When Ares had me, it was one of the things that kept me going. I knew she was out there alive and well. I just want to meet her. Is that so much to ask?"
"I'm sorry Richard," she slipped a consoling arm around his shoulders. "I wish I could help."
They sat like that for a while as she stroked his hair and pretended not to notice when his silent tears soaked into her dress, she desperately wished she could do more for him. Rebecca had always been such an important part of her life, it didn't seem far that he had missed out on that.
"You could go and talk to Joe?"
"Yeah right. He doesn't even know who I am."
"Ah," Amanda tapped him on the nose with her finger. "But you know all about him."
From the mezzanine at the back of the store Joe Dawson glanced down in surprise at the young blonde figure that passed through the door, and looked around. He knew better than to judge by appearances, but he'd bet his new amplifier that the kid in the blue jeans and brown leather jacket hadn't come to buy a book.
"Exquisite! How old did you say this was?" his customer asked.
"About 300 years," Joe answered distractedly. "Give or take a decade."
He had to bite back a grin as of the two assistants the kid ignored the obvious choice. Debra was young and pretty and blonde and already tossing her hair at him in the hope of being able to treat his offer of dinner and an date with the disdain for which she was notorious. Instead, the kid approached Marsha. A plump homely woman in her mid forties, with the kindest heart of anyone Joe had ever known.
"Bright kid." He murmured.
"Hey," the kid smiled a soft, bashful smile. "I'm looking for Joe Dawson."
"I'm sorry dear," Marsha shook her head genuinely sorry she couldn't help this delightful young man. "I'm afraid Mr Dawson is busy with an important client."
Joe wondered if he would press the point. Make a scene perhaps. But the kid just shrugged.
"That's too bad. When you see him could you give him this?"
He didn't leave Joe noticed. Just wandered around idly looking at the shelves as if knowing that whatever was in the envelope that Marsha was bringing towards him with an apologetic smile would get his attention. He wasn't expecting trouble. By all accounts the kid had been spending a great deal of time at the barge while he was out of town, a privilege Macleod only extended to those friends he implicitly trusted. Still he didn't expect to see a dog-eared photo of him and the kid with their arms around each other, eyes sparkling with fond affection, a song he didn't remember composing jotted down in his own handwriting and his father's silver lighter that not ten minutes ago had been in inside pocket of the jacket hanging on the back of his chair.
"Do I know you?"
The blonde kid looked up from the book he was leafing through
"You know what they say Joe. The camera never lies."
"Photos can be doctored," He waved the letter. "Documents can be altered." He held up the lighter. "And when did you steal this?"
"You gave me it."
"The hell I did."
"It's a long story." Then forestalling anything Joe might have said he held up the book he'd been holding. "This Iain Macleod is interesting. I have a friend who would really like this. How much is it?"
Joe's eyes narrowed as his saw what the kid had chosen "A History of the Clans of the Scottish Highlands" If he remembered correctly that version was in the original Gaelic and he didn't think the kid had learnt Gaelic at the local Lycee.
"That's a first edition. You sure you can afford it?" He fished. It would be a hell of a lot easier if all Macleod's friends would wear a sign saying "Immortal" or "Mortal" at least then a guy would know what he was dealing with.
"I've been saving for a real long time."
"You didn't tell me your name?"
"C'mon Joe. You may have been outta town but your organisation isn't that shoddy. You know who I am."
"Let's take this into my office." Joe decided.
As he settled himself into a chair Joe mentally ran through everything Pierson's report had mentioned about the kid. Name Richard Ryan, known to his friends as Richie or Rich. Current passport claimed he was born in Quebec in the seventies. Previously unknown to the Watchers. Connection to Macloed unknown. Connection to Connor Macloed unknown. Connection to Amanda unknown. Background checks in progress. No results as yet. Joe snorted. It wasn't much to go on.
"Alright, why don't you tell me what you want?"
"Look, there's no easy way of saying this, so I'm just gonna come right out with it. You can just believe me or not. Your choice."
"Alright."
"Reader's Digest. I'm an Immortal You're a Watcher. You have a database. I need an address."
Then he told him everything.
He hoped he might have made an impression, but the long, slow, hand clap with which Joe greeted his revelations was not reassuring.
"You've done your research kid, but you left out one thing. We Watch. We record. We don't interfere. I'm not going to help you head hunt."
"C'mon Joe," the look of anguish on the kid's face was heart rending. Either he was telling the truth or he was a consummate actor. "I just want to talk to her."
"Do I look like a dating agency?"
"It's not like that."
"Sorry, no can do," Joe shook his head. "And I'll keep the lighter, thanks."
He went to return his lighter to its customary place. And found its twin already there. Frowning curiously he examined them side-by-side. Every flaw, every nick, was identical.
Still.
"Look kid. Maybe when she's ready to talk to, she'll find you." He offered.
He nodded softly, like he didn't much believe that. As he got to the door he cast a critical eye around the musty old bookshop.
"You know, you should get into another line of business. This just doesn't seem like you."
"Really?" Joe gave him a sardonic look. "And what exactly do you suggest?"
The smile almost did it. A soft gentle smile that set his eyes twinkling with fond affection. He'd just shot the kid down in flames but here he was smiling at him like he was his long lost Uncle returned from the dead. But it was his next words that clinched it.
"A bar Joe. You and the blues belong together."
Richie stood outside the store and wondered what the hell to do next. Asking Joe had always been a long shot. It was a pretty tough call to presume on the friendship of someone who hadn't even met you yet. He knew where the Watchers Headquarters were here in Paris. But a break in like that would need help. Methos wouldn't do it. This Macleod probably couldn't. And Amanda needed to say with Tess. He would just have to break into Joe's place tonight and lift the information from his files. It didn't feel right, stealing from a friend, but at least Dawson would never know he'd been there.
"Hey kid, wait up!" He turned to see Dawson making his way down the road behind him, waving the leather covered volume. As he walked back towards him Dawson thrust the heavy tome towards him. "You forgot your book."
"You keep it, Joe," Richie shook his head. "Mac probably knows all that stuff anyway."
"Take it anyway," Joe insisted, tipping his head on one side with a grin. "Who knows, you might learn something."
"Yeah?"
Curious now Richie took the book and leafed through its pages until he discovered the thin slip of cream paper hidden within its folds. Written on it in a flowing hand was the address he had been looking for
"This doesn't mean I believe any of that stuff you said in there," Joe warned him. "But I got to thinking. The Watchers have been arguing about the purpose of the Game for Centuries. Who's to say what its really about? I don't know you, but I do know Macleod and if he's in your corner then you're probably a stand up kind of guy."
"Thanks Joe. This means a whole lot to me."
"Well now, maybe you could do something for me." Joe grinned hopefully.
"Name it."
"Introduce me to Macleod."
"Oh man, Macleod," Richie realised. "He's probably taking the city apart looking for me by now." He looked down at the piece of paper in his hand, torn by indecision. If he went back to the barge Mac would probably never let him out of his sight again.
"So, give him a call." Joe shrugged.
"Joe, he's not gonna understand."
"No, but if you leave a message on his answer phone at least he'll know you still have your head and you won't have to worry about talking to him."
"That's a great idea," Richie enthused. "Um. Can I use your phone?"
After a few wrong turns Richie brought his motorcycle to a halt and looked up past the semi-circular gravel drive to the comfortable manor house in a village outside of Paris. This was the place. He looked down at the paper just to be sure.
Rebecca Horne
La Maison des Arbres Carrieres sur SeineYes. This was definitely the place.