Chapter Thirteen

All Things Must Come To An End

Guillermo opened the cooler and exhaled in relief. "My girl Beth. She came through." He closed the cooler and tapped the lid with his fingers. "This should help Josef."

He started to turn away from Simone, who stood outside his self-made medical bay in the garage, but caught the look of concern on her face. "I know you're worried about Beth," he said softly as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't be. Mick will find her and Sarah Whitley. He won't let anything happen to either one of them."

Simone smiled weakly at Guillermo. "Do you mind if I gave you a hand with Josef? If I keep myself busy, it could help keep my mind off of things."

Guillermo glanced down at the cooler's contents. "This isn't a beer or wine, Simone. I'm pumping him full of this stuff. It … might gross you out."

Simone gave a nonchalant wave of her hand. "Oh please, Guillermo! I've watched Josef chew into my arm like fruit! It's fine, believe me."

Guillermo thought of Adrian's more than usual ashen face when they had first brought Josef in, and noted Simone's strong countenance. "Sure," he said, steering Simone to Josef's freezer. "I could use the help."

#

The two vampires stood still as statues, eyes locked onto each other, both wielding long swords in their dominant hand, separated by twenty feet of desert-covered parking lot.

Mick tilted his chin slightly in the air, as if he picked up a long lost scent. "I hear Beth and Sarah behind you," he said, twirling McClane's sword in his hand. "Why kidnap them? Why did you involve them?"

Malcolm started to speak. Instead, he slowly began to walk to his right in a long arc. Mick took the the hint and immediately began doing the same.

"You won't believe me, St. John. After everything that has happened for the course of a month, you will never believe me, but I'll tell you anyway. This was all Lance's doing. I had nothing to do with Miss Turner and Miss Whitley's kidnapping. I meant them no harm."

Mick considered this as he continued his slow arc to the door leading into the hotel room. He took care to match his steps with Malcolm's. "You had nothing to do with taking Beth? You really expect me to believe that?"

"Do you remember Catherine Xavier?"

Mick took several seconds to recall the person whose name Malcolm mentioned. "She sired Cynthia Davis. About four centuries old. I never met her but I heard she hated me just as much as Cynthia did."

"Probably more." Malcolm approached his car and ran a finger across the hood. "She is obviously bent on revenge for Cynthia's death, which is why she came into town and assisted Lance with everything. Miss Turner's kidnapping. Miss Whitley's kidnapping. Kostan's assault. Everything."

Mick was more than three quarters of the way to the door. He forced himself not to run inside; hearing their voices eased his fears. "But you came here on your own with a vendetta to take me down. You kept me locked up here for over three weeks drugged out of my mind. You put Alexandra Sanders in the hospital. You had a death sentence passed on my friend. And this is because of who? Lance?"

He reached the entrance to the room. Instead of walking in, he pointed his sword at the vampire. "I am going to kill him. I'm going to kill Lance, and I'm going to kill you, Malcolm."

"Yes, it seems like a battle to the death is inevitable," Malcolm said sadly. He took two steps before coming to a stop on the spot where Mick had stood. He looked down at it for a second before gesturing to the door behind Mick.

"Check on your friends. I'll wait for you out here."

Mick hesitated. He stared long at Malcolm for several seconds before slowly backing into the room. Malcolm remained standing where he was, tracing grooves into the dirt with his blade.

Beth and Sarah ceased talking when Mick stepped into view. "Mick! Thank God," said Beth, falling back into her chair.

Mick tossed the sword onto the bed and reached behind Sarah with a knife. "Are you two alright?"

Sarah nodded, rubbing her wrists once Mick had cut her bonds. He quickly moved over to Beth. "Did he hurt you at all?"

"He got here a few minutes before you did." Beth looked into Mick's eyes. "I don't think he had anything to do with kidnapping us."

Mick finished cutting Beth's restraints and gently pulled her to her feet, hastily sliding something in Beth's pocket as he did so. "I'm starting to get the same feeling. Sounds like Lance set everything up hoping that we rip each other's throats out."

He retrieved McClane's sword and led the women outside. True to his word, Malcolm was in the same spot, sword still pointed to the ground. "You see? They're safe."

Mick turned to Beth and Sarah. "I want you two to run to the left. Head out past the office and take the road. Don't worry. I have someone out here who will be looking for you."

Sarah took several tentative steps in the direction he indicated, but Beth remained where she stood. "You better take care of yourself," she said, grasping his free hand. "That couch is calling our name."

Mick smiled down at her. He started to kiss her, but instead gestured to where Sarah waited. "Go," he whispered.

Beth squeezed his hand and let it go before turning to Sarah. Together they hurried down the covered walkway to the office, and front of the abandoned hotel.

Malcolm watched their departure. "They'll probably be safe in that direction," he said. "As I said a few minutes ago, I meant them no harm. I'm sorry they were involved."

Mick softly chuckled as he turned to give Malcolm an incredulous look. "You're sorry? You're sorry you brought a woman who was in a coma into a world she has no clue about. You used that woman to manipulate my best friend and force him to betray me and give me up to you. You drugged and tortured the hell out of me for three weeks. Everyone close to me, you manipulated, strung along, hooked in your sick and twisted plot … until we're here."

"Yes, we are." Malcolm smiled. "You don't know the entire story behind Sarah's miraculous recovery. Maybe I'll share it with you."

He gestured behind Mick to the empty room. "A touch of irony. Lance placing the women in the very same room where you were so close to death last year. He has a twisted mind, doesn't he?"

The anger on Mick's face disappeared, replaced with confusion. "How - how do you know?"

"Ah, the things we talked about during your time as my guest here." Malcolm twirled his sword in his hand until he gripped the hilt with the blade pointing down and drove it into the ground.

As the weapon slowly rocked back and forth, he took one step forward, then another. "We must have talked about everything. The time you thought you had killed Coraline while saving Beth Turner as a child. How you entered Miss Turner's life again years later. The regret you felt for falling in love with your best friend's wife. Not being able to speak with your father before he died. Wanting a life of normalcy with Miss Turner. I could go on and on."

Malcolm took four more steps closer to Mick. The distance between them was nearly cut to half. "I admit when we first started, you weren't a big talker. I must have dropped ten different combinations of injections into you before you starting talking about the night after your wedding to Miss Turner."

Mick stared at Malcolm in shock, realizing the dreams he thought he had were not dreams. "I told you everything," he breathed.

"Yes, you did." Malcolm's next few steps were brisk. "Oh, I already heard the story you shared with me about attempting to kill Coraline. The injection we concocted against fire was still in the experimental stages back then. We hadn't even tested it yet. Coraline proved to be a most useful, albeit extremely pissed off test subject. I was very pleased with the results."

He leaned in close as if examining Mick, though he was still a handful of steps away. "One nasty side effect of the drugs is that they can cause hallucinations. Urges. Feelings of defeat and deep remorse. Judging from the expression on your face, you may have experienced an episode or two. I would wager that you saw your hand covered … in blood, for instance?"

Mick glanced down at his free hand and gasped when he saw it covered in a shade of crimson. He staggered back against the hotel wall, hurriedly wiping his hand against his pants leg.

Malcolm closed the distance between him and Mick, smiling. "You accused me of almost killing Josef Kostan. I swear to you that I had nothing to do with it. For all his years of existence and all of his wealth, he is … beneath me."

He steered Mick by the elbow to peer into the empty hotel room. "But maybe you did. Maybe you slashed his throat and left your best friend for dead."

Mick almost wanted to dig his eyes out at the sight of Josef lying on the bed, his eyes staring lifelessly at him. His head was canted at a horrible angle as his throat was slashed as if by a wild animal. He fell to his knees in anguish.

"But we know you and Josef are the best of friends." Malcolm stood behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We both know you would never do anything like that to your best friend. We know he is off somewhere receiving the best of possible care."

Mick squeezed his eyes close, fighting to shut out the heinous sight. When he opened them seconds later, he saw the bed was empty. He looked down at his hand, slowly turning it over.

"No blood?" asked Malcolm. He removed his hand from Mick's shoulder. "Hallucination. It took me decades before I was able to figure out that anyone under the influence of the drugs are susceptible to a carefully placed suggestion. Anything given transforms into a full-blown vision."

Mick's head lowered almost to his chest as he stared at his hands listlessly. Malcolm walked away from him towards his sword and pulled it from the ground. He hefted the weapon as he reached into his jacket at his back.

"I so enjoyed our time together," he said. "But sadly, all things must come to an end."

Malcolm's hand darted out as he threw two knives at Mick. The weapons spun end on end, preparing to embed themselves into his skull. At the last possible second, Mick raised his sword, deflecting the knives just enough to sail harmlessly by him. One bounced off of the wall to land at Mick's feet, while the other sailed into the hotel room.

Mick immediately jumped to his feet, holding Armagh in front of him at the ready position.

"You know, Malcolm, that's probably the first thing we can agree on."

#

Sarah came to a halt and bent down at the waist, leaning heavily on her knees as she struggled to regain her breath. "Beth, why are we running? It's just us, Mick, and that bastard for miles."

Beth glanced over her shoulder at the hotel in the distance. "I want to make sure to put enough distance between us and them before I make a call."

Sarah straightened to give Beth a dubious look. "A call? Our phones were left behind in the city, remember?"

Beth reached into her pocket and pulled out a small flip phone for Sarah to see. "Mick slipped it to me after I was freed. I just hope he remembered the signal sucks this far out."

She began dialing, but stopped when she heard footprints behind her. She whirled just as Catherine Xavier clamped a viselike grip on her throat, hoisting her into the air.

"Beth!" Sarah rushed to help, but received a vicious backhand from Catherine. Her head struck a large rock as she fell to the ground, stunned from the blow.

"You two are lucky Lance wanted you alive when I took you," she growled into Beth's face. "I should have known Malcolm would let St. John free you. But after I drain you, I'll make sure that those two will never be a problem again."

Catherine squeezed Beth's throat tighter with her hand. Beth's futile efforts to free herself slowly ceased as her grip on Catherine's wrist slowly slackened before her arms dropped to her side.

"Mick," she said weakly.

A sharp sound, like a crack of thunder in the distance, could barely be heard over the beating in Beth's ears as her oxygen supply to her lungs was depleted. A second later, the grip around her throat disappeared. Beth fell hard to the ground, her hands automatically reaching for her throat while she frantically worked to gulp huge lungfuls of air. She coughed for several seconds before finally looking up at her captor.

Catherine stood with her hands covered her midsection. She looked down at Beth blankly before removing one, displaying a gunshot wound the size of a man's fist. She fell to her knees, blood squirting through her fingers.

Beth saw headlights proceeding down the road towards them. She slowly climbed to her feet and staggered to the road where she stood close to the edge, frantically waving.

The vehicle, a dark colored SUV, skidded to a stop ten feet from Beth and idled as the driver side door opened. Beth's eyes widened as she watched Hayley Simms walked to the front of the vehicle, weapon drawn. "What - how?"

Hayley aimed her weapon at Catherine, who was still kneeling in the brush several feet away, but adjusted her stance to provide support for Beth. "Your boy toy called and told us what happened with you and Sarah Whitley. He asked us to come and back him up while he took out Rehnquist."

Beth glanced at Hayley. "Us?"

A door opened behind the women. Beth turned her head to watch Alexandra Sanders saunter over to them, cradling a high-powered rifle in her arms and a small bag slung over her shoulder. "Miss Turner. Enjoying your time in the desert? I heard terrible things about the wildlife."

Beth released Hayley, feeling well enough to stand on her own. "I can't wait to get home so I can leave a nasty review on Yelp."

Sanders did not laugh at the return banter, but Beth could see the hint of a smile beginning to form. It quickly disappeared as she saw Sarah slowly stir on the ground. Catherine still rested on her knees, her skin covered in a sheen of sweat in the powerful headlights of the SUV.

Sanders' expression hardened. She passed the rifle over to Hayley by the barrel and walked over to Sarah. "Are you hurt, Miss Whitley?"

Sarah accepted the hand Sanders extended to her and rose to her feet. "A touch of a headache, but I'm okay."

Sanders escorted Sarah to the road where Hayley waited with Beth. "You two may want to wait in the truck with Simms while I finish this."

Beth looked at Sanders very briefly until realization set in. She nodded and walked Sarah over to the car while Sanders reached into her jacket and pulled out latex gloves. As she pulled them on her hands, she glanced over at Hayley, who had returned from the truck. "Any reservations about what I'm preparing to do, Hayley?"

She shook her head. "Woman, I'm tired and it's been a long day. If he says this is how it has to happen, then this is how it has to happen."

"Okay." Sanders unzipped the bag still hanging from her shoulder. "Cover me."

The women stepped off the road into the brush towards Catherine, who had crawled a few feet to a large rock which she braced herself against. Sanders noted with surprise that the bleeding from her wound had stopped.

They paused several feet from Catherine. With a nod from Sanders, Hayley pointed her pistol at the woman while Sanders reached into her bag with her left hand. Catherine looked at them and sneered. "You think you are better than me?! I will -"

Sanders dashed forward, pulling all of her weight into a left hook with an object from her bag that threw Catherine flat to the ground. Catherine sat there for a second before Sanders picked her up by the collar of her jacket and flung her back against the rock. Holding her by the throat with her injured right hand, Sanders held up the object that she used to hit the woman.

"You know what this is?" She held the cylindrical object close to Catherine's eyes. "Incendiary grenade. St. John insisted that we used something to light your ass up, and I was happy to find we had a case of these just lying around in the trunk of my car."

Hayley smirked and shook her head as Sanders continued. "And the infrared scope he suggested helped me pick you up from eight hundred yards out. Freaky, wouldn't you say, Hayley?"

Hayley snorted. "Should have adjusted the front sight, though. Weren't you aiming for her head?"

"I was in a hurry. Don't judge."

She pulled the pin and slid the grenade into the back of Catherine's jacket, slammed the woman's head against the rock before running for the road. "Fire in the hole!"

Both women were almost to the car before a loud explosion echoed throughout the desert, immediately followed by a fireball shooting up into the sky from where Catherine laid. Hayley and Sanders threw their hands up to protect their eyes from the searing heat. An inhuman scream from the flames made Hayley raise her weapon. For several seconds, she saw arms flailing wildly in the flames before finally falling still.

Sanders did not move at all. She did not even move when Beth exited the vehicle and walked up to her. Hayley finally slid her pistol into her jeans and took the bag from Sanders along with the gloves back to the SUV.

Sanders adjusted the brace on her right wrist, her eyes never moving from the fire. "Miss Turner … Beth, I don't miss on purpose. I could have taken that bitch's head off. St. John said it didn't matter what I did."

She turned and looked down at the shorter woman, the self-confidence, the sharpness and business-like exterior gone, replaced by anxiety.

"Please tell me. What the hell did I get myself into?"

#

Mick was already trained in small arms and hand-to-hand combat from his time in the Army, so adjusting to life defending himself as a vampire was relatively easy.

Pistols and rifles were replaced by edged weapons, small crossbows, and stakes. He still kept pistols, but only in the company of humans when exposing his vampire abilities was not ideal. Still, he considered himself very competent in combat and self defense.

Then he began hoisting Armagh.

Magnus McClane's broadsword felt ungainly in his hands. He was not sure whether to hold it with one or both hands. He settled for holding onto it with his right hand, a rough imitation of a sci-fi hero.

Malcolm, on the other hand, held his sword as if it was an extension of himself. He twirled it from one hand to another in a display of both showmanship and skill, finally stopping in a traditional en garde position.

Mick thrusted McClane's sword at Malcolm's chest, which was easily deflected to the ground. Malcolm immediately countered with a quick jab into Mick's thigh, forcing him back. Mick barely got his weapon up in time to parry another thrust aimed at his leg, countering with a vicious right hook that sent Malcolm staggering back several feet.

Mick glanced down at his wound and saw that it was already healing at a satisfactory rate. Silently thanking Guillermo for his medical administration, he grasped his sword tightly and rushed shoulder first into Malcolm like a defensive end, knocking him over his car to the other side.

As Mick stalked around the car, he heard an explosion in the distance. Malcolm, coming to his feet, heard it as well and lowered his sword. "What was that?"

Mick smiled. "Unless I'm wrong, that was Alexandra Sanders exacting some sort of revenge on whomever you have out in the desert backing you up."

Malcolm shook his head. "I came out here alone. Hopefully it was Lance, but he knows better."

He twirled his sword once in his hand, and raised it in an overhead chop, nearly taking off Mick's right arm. He dodged the blow from the sword, but received a reverse side kick in his sternum. The blow took his off of his feet, causing him to fall bodily backwards to the ground. Mick lost his grip on the sword when his body impacted on the surface. It slid a few feet away.

Malcolm did not waste any way time. He jumped high in the air, angling his sword straight down to the earth, or rather, Mick's right eye.

Mick saw Malcolm coming down and rolled to the right at the last second, grasping Armagh as he came up to his feet. Without thinking, he flipped the sword in his hand and thrusted backwards as Malcolm landed.

Mick felt the weapon hit home, and heard a sharp cry of pain from behind him. Careful to maintain control of the weapon, he slowly turned around and winced at the sight before him.

Malcolm was crouched on one knee, his sword embedded in the ground. Mick's weapon was through the side of his rib cage almost all the way through to the hilt and protruding out of the opposite side.

"Wow. I wouldn't be able to pull that off again if I tried," said Mick. He adjusted his grip on his sword as he reached for Malcolm's weapon.

Malcolm refused to release his sword, despite Mick's best efforts to disengage his grip. He turned his head to look up at Mick and laughed. "You're about to learn that I'm not that I'm not that easy to kill, St. John."

Malcolm turned his body with such speed that Mick's sword slipped from his grip. An instant later, he hit Mick with a back fist that launched him off of his feet, spinning out of control until he landed on the hood of his car nearly twenty feet away. His head shattered the windshield, leaving him covered with shards of broken glass

Malcolm grunted slightly as he pulled the sword from his torso. He admired it briefly, holding the blood covered blade in the palms of his hands. "Exquisite craftsmanship," he marveled. "Whoever this belonged to definitely knows his swords."

He sighed and placed the tip of the sword on the ground, holding it by the hilt and tilted to the side like a walking cane. He smiled at Mick before slamming the heel of his foot against the flat of the blade, breaking it in half as if it was a twig.

He nonchalantly tossed the hilt over his shoulder as he walked over to the Mercedes and grabbed Mick's wrist.

"I have no idea how many vampires I have killed during my lifetime," he murmured, positioning Mick to where his head hung off of the hood's edge before throwing several punches into his face.

"Let me assure you that I don't do it for fun or sport. I don't do it for pleasure." He held his sword less than an inch over Mick's throat, preparing to deliver the killing blow.

"I do it for justification."

Mick opened his swollen eyes in time to watch Malcolm raise his sword high above his head. Stunned, unable to move, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to picture Beth one last time.

"Mick?"

He turned his head and saw Beth standing over to the side of the car. "You came," he said.

She smiled down at him. "You know I'm a very well-presented figment of your imagination. In which case you are rightfully imagining your final seconds with Beth. Side effect of those drugs Ellis and Malcolm pumped you with. From what I'm seeing, everything's looking pretty dire for you right now. It made sense for me - I mean her … to come."

The Beth incarnation pointed above Mick. He looked up and saw Malcolm, a satisfied smile on his face, standing over him with his sword coming down at him in an excruciatingly slow arc.

He looked back over at Beth. "How long does it take to die around here? I have an appointment in the morning."

She laughed as she walked up to Mick and ran her fingers through his hair. "Mick St. John the comedian? I like it. But you know what else that I like about you? You don't know when to quit."

Mick looked back up at Malcolm. The sword was slightly closer, but still lowering very slowly. "He's won," he said with a sense of finality in his voice. "He's so much stronger than me."

The rendering of Beth's image adamantly shook her head. "If you believe that, then let Malcolm's sword separate your head from your body. Leave your Beth heartbroken that the love of her life died. He died … because he gave up."

She leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear. "That isn't Mick St. John. He doesn't quit. He doesn't give up."

Beth straightened and gave Mick a determined look.

"So … get up and fight."

Mick opened his swollen eyes in time to watch Malcolm raised his sword above his head. He focused all of his energy into a desperate roll to the side, falling to the ground in front of his car as Malcolm's blade bounced off of the hood. He immediately launched himself, using his body's momentum to put into a right hook against Malcolm's jaw. The blow caused him to drop his sword as he fought to remain on his feet. Mick followed through with a side kick that knocked Malcolm flat on his back.

Mick reached into his jacket and pulled out one of his decorative stakes as he walked over to where Malcolm laid on the ground. He knelt beside him and buried it into his chest. Malcolm's body instantly seized in shock from the staking.

Mick slowly rose to his feet as a vehicle pulled up behind him. He turned and watch Beth opened her door before the SUV came to a complete stop. She ran to him and jumped into his arms.

"I thought I'd never see you again," she whispered.

Mick looked down at her and smiled. "Yeah, I thought I was a goner, too. But my guardian angel helped me."

Beth gave him a puzzled look. Mick started to explained but instead kissed her on her forehead as Alexandra Sanders walked past them, stopping several feet away from a nearly immobile Malcolm Rehnquist.

She propped her fists on her hips as she stared down at him, but spoke to Mick. "Is this your life every day, St. John? Going around hunting the undead and staking the hell out of them?"

Mick's mouth fell open in surprise. He slowly looked down at Beth, who returned the glare with a small shrug.

"Yeah, there's something we need to talk about."

#