Chapter 10
A shutter passed through his system as Devon revived. He was lying on a cot in a dark cell. It wasn't a prison cell exactly. More like the kind found in monasteries.
He sat up and got his bearings. There was a faint buzz coming from somewhere outside the cell. His swords were gone and he wasn't wearing any clothing. Fortunately a blanket was protecting what was left of his modesty.
Devon saw a single chair and a desk off to the side. Fresh clothes sat neatly folded on the chair. There was even a pair of brand new penny loafers, in an open shoebox on top of the desk.
They're really kind to prisoners in this reality, Devon thought, sardonically.
He quickly got dressed, surprised to find the clothes were his size. What else did these people know about him?
The cell door was unlocked, which was another surprise. Clearly he wasn't being held against his will, but it would have been nice if someone were here to explain this to him.
"Duncan?" He called out, searching for the source of the buzz.
He followed the corridor, seeing other cell doors, much like the one he had been in earlier. In a foyer a large crucifix hung from the wall. A bronze Jesus gazed up at the heavens, sadly as the crown of thorns dug into his forehead.
Out of habit Devon crossed himself and knelt in reverence, thankful that he was on Holy Ground.
"You're awake," someone said.
Devon looked up and saw the man who stabbed him. What did Duncan call him?
"My name is James Horton," the man said, as Devon got to his feet. "You have no need to fear us. We mean you no harm."
Devon restrained himself. But deep down he wanted to throttle the man. "I don't know what rules are in place here, but where I come from, killing is considered pretty damn harmful."
"We had all ready drawn too much attention," Horton said, turning to regard the crucifix. "You were being unreasonable and I didn't feel you were safe being left out there."
Devon returned his attention to Jesus. It was difficult to carry a grudge when the savior was watching them.
"Where are we, anyhow?" He asked.
"In an old convent in upstate New York. The last nuns to live here died out over a hundred years ago from consumption. Tuberculosis," Horton added, answering Devon's quizzical look. "The building itself was never used again until the Watchers came along."
"Watchers?"
"We are an ancient order, going back thousands of years. Our purpose is to observe and record the exploits of your kind. We watch, record, but never interfere."
Devon snorted.
"Does it get hard to keep a straight face whenever you drop us that line?"
"Lately we've had to make amends to that rule. Ever since the day Duncan Macleod and Nicholas Ward began their reign of terror, in an effort to be the last two to survive the Gathering."
"But the Gathering was just a myth wasn't it? Like the whole Y2K thing?"
"Y2K?" Horton replied, confused.
"The year 2000? The whole world was supposed to shut down because computers couldn't-oh…but that never happened here did it?"
Horton gestured for Devon to come with him. They went to an office that used to belong to the reverend mother, but was no being used as a laboratory. A few scientists were hunched over high powered microscopes, computers and other technology that violently clashed with the 19th century convent.
The two Celtic swords lay side by side on a table lit by a bright lamp.
"Your references to not coming from 'here', lead to some interesting speculation," Horton went on, gesturing to the swords. "I've had our people analyzing these swords for the last hour. Both are identical in every fashion, right down to their atomic structure. The only real difference is this one."
Horton pointed to the one on the left.
"It's full of nicks and cuts, very poorly cared for. How the immortal that possessed this could have lasted so long is a miracle."
Devon recalled his double's seemingly unkempt nature. The sword was the same, leading him to think that the Jason Talbot of this world must have trained him too.
"You can imagine our surprise when Devon McMillan's Watcher reported you dead, only to have you show up near Central Park, walking side by side with Macleod."
"You and your entourage just happened to be cruising around the Big Apple fully armed, huh?" Devon said. "I know traffic can get bad but the machine guns were a bit much."
Horton sighed.
"The short of it is we had set up an attempt on Duncan Macleod's life. At this very moment Nicholas Ward should be dueling against him. It was decided as a back up plan that we should monitor the city and the airports, in case Macleod was on to our plan. This was the one chance we had to eliminate him forever and we were making huge sacrifices in order to get him."
"But you've got the wrong guy," Devon argued. "Duncan-this Duncan-is from my world. I never even knew the guy before I met his double in this world."
Devon told him everything. Horton listened attentively, asking many questions. They ate dinner in a refurbished dining room. Only a few others were there, and at a closer glance Devon noticed blue Y-shaped tattoos on their wrists.
"Is that your symbol?" He asked.
"It's our identifying mark, yes. We get them from the moment we become apprentices to the older members of the order. Now tell me again how this portal works. You say only immortals can tell that it's there?"
"That's what Duncan figures," Devon answered. "He thinks it has something to do with how the Quickening happened."
Horton nodded. Apparently he was drawing the same conclusions.
The buzz on Devon's radar died down as Duncan was escorted into the dining room. The escort took a place beside the entrance, gun in hand.
"Duncan!" Devon stood up. "It's okay, really. Horton thought you were the other Duncan."
"I know." Macleod responded. He fixed Horton with a glare like a wild lion staring at a zookeeper. "You'll understand then, that I forgot for a moment where I was."
"Indeed," Horton said, holding out a hand. "Not even the Duncan Macleod of this world would be so impulsive in the center of a populated city, surrounded by armed men."
Duncan refused his hand. He didn't care what timeline this was, the only way he'd touch that man was with his blade across the throat.
"Would you care for something to eat?"
"Where's my sword?"
"Safe in my office," Horton said. He ordered the attending apprentice to bring Duncan a plate. "Mr. Macleod, please understand something. If I wanted to kill you I would have done it long ago. The lives your doppelganger has taken in this world was enough to make me want to act with equal irrationality such as you've displayed."
Duncan took a seat beside Devon.
"Oh, and I suppose the idea of immortality doesn't fill you with rage. Or maybe in this universe you're really the good guy and Joe Dawson is the bastard that kills Immortals because of how quickly they heal."
Horton scowled. His fist clenched over the handle of a butter knife. Devon's heart jumped as he tried to think of a way to diffuse the situation.
"For your information," Horton began, his voice was as calm as it could be, but Devon could tell his patience was slipping. "My brother lives in a nursing home in. He spends the mornings screaming at the doctors, who he's convinced are Viet Cong jailers, and the afternoons in sedation as they strap him down to keep him from harming himself. So whatever misgivings you have about our relationship, you will be kind to keep my family out of it."
Duncan, for his part, seemed genuinely sympathetic. As if he knew he had gone too far now. But he didn't apologize. Horton took sometime to regain his composure before speaking.
"Mr. McMillan has explained to me the reason you are here. As you have also concluded, I too believe that the nature of the battle and the quickening is the key to undoing this problem."
"We've thought about this," Duncan said. "But it doesn't make the solution any easier. I won't go hunting down some innocent Immortal just to close the gateway."
"But you've missed the key point of all this," Horton said. "The nature of the quickening alone is only the basis of how all this came to be. You have to take into account the very nature of the battle.
"First this young man takes Gavin Castleton's head in his own world. At the same time Castleton beheads Devon McMillan in this reality as well. The quickening itself wasn't what opened the gateway. My theory is that the universe shifted somehow in response to a synchronous form of balance. When these two Immortals died at the same time our universe became in tuned to yours, and parts of each quickening locked the two worlds together."
"So you're saying that not just any quickening will do it?" Duncan asked.
"I'm saying only one very specific quickening will do it," Horton said. A look came into his eyes that Duncan was all too familiar with. A look of pure ruthlessness. "And you are the only one who can initiate it."
Well, at least some never change, Duncan thought. He'd still love nothing more than to see my head fly from my body.
"How do we get him here?"