Cassandra and the Sisterhood
Hope Triumphant II: Sister

Chapter 10

UNHOLY ALLIANCE II

Sunday, 20 July 2014
The MacLeod Home, Edinburgh

"Who do you think did it?" Alex asked Connor, as she pulled out a kitchen stool from under the counter and perched on it.

Connor shrugged and went on chopping onions for tonight's vegetable soup, intent on cutting them all to precisely the same size. "People with experience, from what Cassandra said on the phone," he said. "We'll know more when she gets here."

"But she doesn't know who it was, either."

Connor cut an onion in half and peeled off its skin. "That's why she's coming over, to give us the details she does have so that the three of us can discuss the possibilities."

Alex had never been patient. "Do you think it was an Immortal?"

Connor shrugged again. "Possibly."

"A quarrel within the Watchers themselves? Another band of Hunters?"

Connor smiled at her insistence and kept right on chopping. "Perhaps."

Alex breathed in then out, summoning patience and calm. That was Connor, refusing to speculate without data, just like Mr. Spock. Connor stepped back and blinked tears from his eyes, the sharp blade still in his hand, and Alex took deep satisfaction in knowing that even an Immortal could be undone by an onion.

Then Connor's head went up, his eyes instantly aware. Alex knew that look: another Immortal was near. "That was quick," she said in some surprise. "Maybe Cass wasn't calling from her home."

"Or maybe it's not Cassandra," Connor said. He'd already put down the knife to pick up his sword.

Alex immediately hopped off the stool and headed for the stairwell, shutting the door behind her and getting out of sight so that Connor could concentrate. Thank goodness Sara and Colin had gone sailing with friends today. From her post at the top of the stairs, Alex heard Connor go to the front door. It seemed the Immortal had good manners and didn't want to intrude.

Or perhaps the Immortal was luring Connor out of his home. Perhaps it was a trap. Perhaps the other Immortal had a gun and was shooting Connor—shooting him right now!—and then would drag Connor's lifeless body off to some place more private so that he could take Connor's head.

Or perhaps the Immortal wanted to torture Connor endlessly for days. For years. Cassandra had, on rare occasion, suggested that possibility, but never with words, only with silences, with averted eyes and things left unsaid, so that the very vagueness of it convinced Alex that the possibility was a probability, a certainty, and not just with Roland. Taking heads wasn't the only way Immortals could enjoy their kills.

Perhaps her last glimpse of Connor had been of him chopping onions. Perhaps she would never see her husband again. She would have to explain to Sara and Colin—and to Duncan and Rachel and John—how Connor had simply walked out of the house and never come home, while she had stood by in the darkness, trapped in silence at the top of the stairs, waiting.

Alex waited in the stairway for perhaps half a minute, forty-five seconds at the most. Connor returned to the kitchen, calling her name, sounding cheerful, and Alex put a smile on her face before she opened the door, walking casually as if she were just coming up from downstairs. Their unexpected guest stood in the doorway to the hall.

"Evann!" Alex exclaimed in delight, going over to the taller woman and holding out her hands. "We didn't know you were in Europe."

Evann greeted her with a smile and a brief hug. "Alex." But even smiling, even with the black sunglasses hiding her eyes, Evann looked tense and strained.

"How's Sean?" Alex asked immediately.

"Now that's a good question," came the quick, almost brittle, reply. "I guess I should call him. You got a phone?"

"Evann…" That from Connor—a warning, a question, and a reassurance all in one. Evann turned to him, one hand pulling out the band that held back her shoulder-length black hair, the other hand taking off her glasses. A desperate touch of wildness showed in her green eyes. Then she and Connor stood there, saying nothing.

Alex had been through this sort of thing before. She was about to excuse herself and leave the two of them to their Immortal "business" when they both suddenly looked to the kitchen windows, eyes alert, bodies tense. Alex looked, too. Cassandra was standing just outside the back gate in the garden wall, waiting to be let in.

"That's Cassandra," Connor told Evann then added pointedly, "She's a friend."

"Good," Evann replied. "I wouldn't want to have to mess up your house."

Connor's eyes narrowed, but he responded easily, "Considerate of you. We just had the place painted." Evann opened her mouth for another snippy reply, but Connor forestalled her by saying, "And we had the garden done, too."

Alex left them to their quibbling and went outside to talk to Cass. "We have unexpected company," Alex explained. "This isn't a good time for Connor, but you and I could go somewhere."

Cass grimaced unhappily. "I wanted Connor's opinion on this, too."

Before Alex could answer, she heard shoes crunching on the gravel walk. Connor—along with Evann, who had put her sunglasses back on—had come outside to say hi. A small, brown bird chirped from a branch of the apple tree. The shoes crunched some more. As Connor and Evann approached, the two Immortal women watched each other, wary, measuring, and to all appearances, completely unafraid. Not the kind of meeting Alex would have preferred, with the destruction of Watcher Headquarters still to be discussed and with Evann in her current cranky mood. Alex decided that Connor could deal with the introductions.

Which he did, immediately and with complete aplomb. "Evann, this is my old friend Cassandra. Cassandra, this is my old friend Evann."

They nodded to each other, not so cautious but still alert. Cass was just standing there, her waist-long hair moving slightly with the breeze, but Evann had planted her feet slightly apart and crossed her arms over her chest. Alex stifled the urge to tell them to shake hands and come out of their corners fighting at the sound of the bell. They'd heard of each other; Alex knew. She'd been the one to mention their names.

"Cassandra and Connor have known each other a long time," Alex had explained to Evann fifteen years ago, when Evann and her then-boyfriend Sean were visiting the MacLeod farm for the first time. Sara and Colin had mentioned their "Aunt Cass" frequently, and Evann had asked who that was.

"How long?" Evann wanted to know.

"Almost all his life. She's a good friend to us both, and to the twins."

"It's important to have friends," Evann said easily then gone on to talk of other things.

And: "Evann's an old friend of Connor's," Alex said to Cass, soon after Evann and Sean had gone back home to Chicago.

"Old as in age, or old as in known a long time?"

"Both. At least to me. They've known each other over one hundred fifty years. And Evann's…" Alex had to stop and think. "I don't know how old she is. Definitely older than Connor, maybe even as old as you. But she's not a friend of Duncan's."

"No?"

"No. He beheaded her husband."

Cass had lifted an eyebrow but left the topic there. Alex was glad of her discretion, because the term "friend" covered a lot of territory. On several occasions, Alex had requested Connor to clarify exactly what he meant by that. "And lovers, too?" she would ask.

When they'd been discussing Evann, his answer was a quick tilt of the head and a lift of the eyebrows, along with the endearingly modest admission of "Only once." With others, his answer had sometimes been "No," but more often "On occasion" or "For a while."

So Alex finally asked, "Should I simply assume that you've slept with every female Immortal you mention?" When he opened his mouth to protest his innocence, she added sweetly, "If only once?"

"Not at all," Connor replied with a grin. "I've never slept with Amanda. Or Ceirdwyn or Grace or Felice Martin or Gina de Valincourt or Kristen or—"

"Just Cassandra," Alex broke in. "And Rebecca. And Caroline. And Alex Raven. And Evann."

"Only once," he said again then pulled her onto his lap and held her tight. "Alex, Evann and I have been friends since the American Civil War. It was just…"

He trailed off there, but Alex knew he wanted to talk more, so she laid her head on his shoulder and asked, "How long ago?"

Connor sighed, a soft rumble against her ear. "Back in 1993, a few months after her husband was killed. For me, it'd been seven years since—"

—since Brenda had died, Alex finished silently when Connor stopped talking again. So, a night of comfort between two friends, each grieving for a lost love. She couldn't possibly begrudge either of them that.

"Evann left the next morning," Connor said. He put a gentle finger under her chin and lifted her head so that she could look into his eyes. "And a year later, I met you."

"And you haven't even looked at another woman since," Alex supplied, hiding a smile. He didn't answer that one, and she prompted with seeming innocence, "Connor?"

"Maybe looked," Connor admitted. "But only once."

"You've looked at only one woman? Or only once per each woman?"

Connor grinned, knowing what she wanted. "You're the only woman for me," he told her, and then carried her off to bed to prove it beyond any doubt.

Alex believed him, completely. And so, as she stood in the garden watching two of Connor's "old friends" eye each other like a pair of sphinxes carved in stone, she wasn't bothered by the fact that they were both Connor's old lovers, too, or that Connor was watching them. Another bird flew past and settled on the branch above the first, both chirping now. The late afternoon summer sunshine was very warm. "Shall we go inside?" Alex suggested. "It's more comfortable. More private."

"Do you think we'll even have Watchers today?" Connor asked Cass, but before she could answer he turned to Evann and explained, bringing her in on the secret right away, "Watcher Headquarters was destroyed last night, blown up in some sort of commando raid."

One eyebrow arched above the sunglasses, but that was the only sign of surprise that Alex saw. "I object to the word commando," Evann said, as if she were discussing the use of the pronunciation tomahto instead of tomato. "Highly trained professional operative sounds better."

"Yes," Cass agreed with a polite smile. "Just as courtesan sounds better than whore. But being politically correct or using pretty names doesn't change what really happens. People still get fucked, and people still die."

Alex winced. Cass's whole-hearted adoption of "honesty is the best policy" was occasionally refreshing, more often exasperating, and sometimes downright dangerous. Connor was keeping a straight face, but Alex knew he was hiding a smile.

Evann slowly removed her sunglasses. Ancient eyes met other ancient eyes, all unblinking green. The two birds on the apple tree flew away. Evann turned her back on Cassandra and headed toward the house. "And so speaks the voice of experience," she said on her way along the garden path.

It was then that Alex knew what had brought Evann to their door. Experience came in many forms.

Cassandra was smiling. "I like her," she said cheerfully to Connor.

"Evann's the one who did it," Alex said slowly then asked of Connor, "Isn't she?"

Connor's eyes had narrowed again, and he watched while Evann opened the kitchen door and disappeared inside the house. "Probably."

"And she didn't tell you beforehand?"

"No."

"And you had no idea?" Alex asked, turning to Cass.

"I just met the woman, Alex," Cass protested, but when Alex kept up a steady stare, Cass added, "As I said on the phone, I had no idea it was going to happen, and I don't know who did it. And we still don't, not for certain. Evann hasn't admitted to anything."

Yet. Despite the warm sunshine, Alex suddenly felt cold.

Evann admitted it right after all four of them had gathered in the kitchen. "Yes, it was me," she said, sounding only tired, not proud or defiant or regretful. Connor silently put ice in a glass, filled it to the top with vodka, and pressed it into Evann's hand. Evann didn't even sniff at it before she started drinking it down.

"Shall we go sit down?" Alex suggested after an awkward moment, and they filed into the wood-paneled dining room. Alex chose the window seat next to the fireplace, Connor leaned against the wall near the kitchen door, while Evann started pacing in front of the windows that looked out to the street, her glass in her hand. Cass seated herself at the center of the long mahogany table, equidistant from the other two Immortals in the room.

Alex didn't say anything, but her feelings must have been obvious on her face because Evann turned to her and said, "I thought you didn't like the Watchers, Alex."

"I don't, but—" Alex shifted, trying to get comfortable. "Was a full-scale assault really necessary?"

"Hello, am I the only one here who's bothered to study up on modern guerrilla warfare?" Evann demanded, on the defensive now. Connor's mouth quirked, but he didn't answer the question or interrupt Evann as she went on. "What did you expect me to do? Go in guns only half-blazing and maybe invite one or two of the Watcher guards—who were shooting at us, by the way—to have tea and play Scrabble while I set a few dozen packet charges and blew up their happy little headquarters? It doesn't work like that."

"I know that," Alex said, trying with only partial success not to sound irritated. "That's not what I meant. Once the decision is made to attack, yes, go and attack. Full-scale. Do the job. But was an assault of any kind necessary?"

"In my opinion? Yes. We had to scare the Watchers into shutting down. It's hard enough for Immortals to hide; we can't afford a bunch of amateurs running around. The Air Force caught some idiot Watcher near my base last fall, and then they handed him over to Homeland Security. Do you know what the HSA does nowadays to suspected terrorists?"

"We've heard about it," Connor said evenly.

"I've seen it," Evann said shortly. "That risk was eliminated, but…" She rattled her glass, looking at the melting ice. "I might not hear about it the next time, and I'm really not in the mood to be used for medical research."

"Neither am I," Cass said, finally joining the conversation. "Yet an armed assault is loud and conspicuous. None of us needs that kind of attention. The media—"

"—are already explaining the attack on the 'International Asset Corporation' as either insurance fraud or terrorism," Evann broke in. "One station suggested it was an extremely hostile takeover. Corporate violence isn't new, and it's more and more common these days. A lot of companies keep their own 'security' forces."

Including, if only on a small scale, the Phinyx Foundation. Alex was careful not to look at Cass just then.

"That's where you got the men?" Connor said to Evann. "J. C. Grayson Acquisitions?"

"Acquisitions isn't what it used to be," Evann said with a faint smile. "We merged a few years ago; it's the Grayson/Crown Corporation now. Each division of GCC has a team of counter-espionage agents."

"And a security force," Cass said.

Evann stopped pacing to look at her. "That's right." She took another large swallow of her drink.

"People will really believe the raid was part of a struggle for market share?" Alex asked incredulously.

"Everything is a struggle for market share now. And the GCC public relations department has been busy planting the appropriate information and misinformation for months." Evann finally sat down, taking the chair at the end of the table. "Some of it's even true: one of the subsidiaries of GCC really is preparing for a hostile takeover of the International Asset Corporation."

Connor gave a bark of laughter. "So you're who I've been bidding against." He pulled up a chair, too, facing Evann. "My bank said it looked like somebody else was buying up the IAC's loans."

"That's how Connor and I were trying to take the Watchers down," Alex explained to Evann. "Corporate downsizing, attrition … the money way, not the military way."

Evann nodded. "That's what I started with, too, and it'll work, in time. But that's time Immortals don't have."

"I appreciate what you've done, Evann," Cass said, sounding sincere. "I know it wasn't easy for you, but you were right; it was necessary."

"Someone still gets fucked," Evann said darkly, staring into what little was left of her drink. "And someone still dies." She downed the rest of the vodka, glanced at her watch, and stood. "I have to go."

"Stay the night," Connor said, and Alex and Cass exchanged glances. That hadn't been a suggestion; it was a command. She and Cass both sat back to watch how Evann the Immortal Soldier took to being ordered around. Alex put up with it from Connor only for Immortal business; Cass didn't put up with it at all. Not anymore.

"I've got tickets," Evann began, but Alex knew already that this wasn't a real contest of wills. Evann would have started with a flat-out no, and stuck to it all the way. Alex had seen Evann in an argument before.

"Change them," Connor said.

"I've got a meeting with the Board of Trustees tomorrow morning at nine."

"Reschedule it. You own the damn company, don't you?"

She sighed. "Connor—"

"Evann," Connor growled right back then pulled rank: "You didn't come by accident. Stay."

She sat down again and leaned back in her chair, watching Connor with cold, unreadable eyes. "Not until you tell me what you're making for dinner."

Later that night, Alex awoke in the darkness as Connor eased himself into their bed, finally back from his midnight vigil in the garden. "What time is it?" she asked sleepily.

"After three." He pulled the cover back over her shoulder as he lay down next to her, moving close to get warm.

His hands and feet were cold, but Alex didn't complain. "Did Evann show up?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Was she having nightmares?"

"Mm-hmm."

Which was why Connor had been out there waiting for her. He had known. Alex laid her head more comfortably on his shoulder and wondered how soldiers—and Immortals—coped with having an occupation best described as "killer."

"She needed to talk it out," Connor said.

"And drink it out," Alex added. Evann had finished three of those iced vodkas before she'd crashed in a library chair.

"And run it out," Connor said, sounding amused. As soon as Evann had woken up, in the very late afternoon, Connor had taken her out for "a jog." They'd come back two hours later, both dripping with sweat and breathing hard. "She's doing better now."

"Good," Alex said. Evann had done pretty well at dinner, enthralling Sara and Colin with tales of harrowing Air Force helicopter rescues over the North Atlantic and not being snippy at all, but hints of that wildness had still been in her eyes, and she hadn't eaten much of her food.

"She finally called Sean," Connor said.

"Good," Alex said again. "For both of them." She kissed Connor on the cheek and closed her eyes. "Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight."

The next morning, Connor and the kids left early for a karate tournament. Cass stopped by around eight. "Coffee?" Alex offered.

"Please."

She poured them each a fresh cup; then they went outside. Evann was stretched out on a lounge chair in the garden near the vegetable bed, recuperating from the night—and the days—before.

When Evann saw Alex and Cass coming toward her on the graveled path, she swung her long legs over the side of the chair and sat up, taking off her sunglasses. "This is a beautiful garden, Alex," Evann said. "And a beautiful home."

"Thank you."

"Although, I think I like the farm better."

"So do I," Alex agreed, as she and Cass sat down in white wicker chairs. "But we'd been there thirteen years; we had to leave. And Edinburgh is a wonderful place to live. I teach archeology at the university, and the kids are in good schools. And we do go back to the Highlands now and then, for holidays, parts of the summer." She looked at the single dusty apple tree in its small square of grass, and thought of the rows of dark pines and the fields of wind-rippled hay near their Highland home. "I miss the horses," she confessed. "And the scent of the air."

"The Highlands are magnificent," Cass agreed, and there the conversation died. Cass and Evann were watching each other again. Alex had had enough of playing the gracious hostess; she leaned back in her chair and said nothing.

Evann went first. "You have a spy in the Watchers," she stated.

"As do you," Cass retorted.

A muscle twitched in Evann's jaw. "Not anymore."

Cass accepted that with a slow nod. "Then you might be interested to know that the copies of the Chronicles in all seven schools were destroyed this weekend. Was that you, or is there someone else after the Watchers, too?"

"That was me. Catching a Watcher would give them the secret of Immortality, but we might still be able to hide. Finding the Chronicles would give them all our names and pictures."

Alex shook her head in dismay. She could see the necessity of it, but still… "All that history," she murmured. "Gone."

"Not all of it," Evann told her. "I got a few things out before the building went up."

"I've heard that many of the objects in their museum had already been sent to the schools," Cass added. "And though the originals are gone, there is at least one copy of the Chronicles still in existence." She looked at Evann with a question in her eyes.

"Two copies," Evann confirmed then said to Alex, "One of my banks just repossessed some of the warehouses that belonged to IAC. I can see that you get a look at the contents, if you like."

"I would like. Very much," Alex replied.

Evann nodded. "I'll tell Charles to see that you get hired as a consulting archeologist."

"Good."

"So what should we do about the Watchers?" Cass asked, leaning back in her chair. "Let them continue on a reduced scale? Eliminate them completely? Let them grow again? They can be useful," she finished thoughtfully.

"They make a dangerous tool," Alex said. "I want them gone."

Evann shook her head. "Count me out."

"I didn't mean that, Evann," Alex said with a quick touch on Evann's hand. "I don't want them killed. Just let them … fade away."

"We'd have to get rid of the schools," Cass said. She was looking at the tree again, but her eyes were unfocused and far away. "Schools are the roots. Burn them to ashes, and the leaves wither and die. All of them, all over the world. Gone." The small, brown bird that had been sitting on the apple tree hopped over to them, then perched on Cass's chair. She blinked and saw it, then smiled and clicked at it with a trilling sound. It trilled back to her, and when she held out a finger, it hopped there. She smiled, lifted her hand, and the bird flew away. Cass turned to Alex and Evann again. "The teachers and senior staff would need to be discouraged. That's begun already, especially with so many of the Council Tribunes being gone."

"Who else besides the Tribune of the Guard?" Evann asked.

"The First Tribune and the Tribune of the Chronicles were both assassinated at their homes," Cass said. Evann was shaking her head, and Cass asked quickly, "That wasn't your team?"

"No." She shrugged. "It could very well have been my contact. He had access."

"But why?" Alex asked, totally mystified. "Why would your contact do that? And why did he help destroy the Watchers that way?"

"Because he knew what happens when a secret organization gets too big to effectively police." Evann picked up her coffee. "It stops being a secret."

"But to betray his people that way—"

"He thought he was saving his people," Evann interrupted. "A few died so that many could live. He wasn't a traitor."

"I doubt other Watchers will agree with that assessment," Cass observed dryly.

"No," Evann agreed. "But maybe in a hundred years they'll appreciate the sense of what he was trying to do."

"So, that's three of the five council Tribunes gone," Alex said.

"Four," Cass corrected, then met her eyes. "The Tribune of the Guild was working late on Saturday night. He hasn't been heard from since."

"No," Alex protested in a whisper. "Not Joe."

"That's a shame," Evann said, sounding as if she meant it. "My contact was supposed to handle that. He knew we'd be coming in hot, and he was supposed to make sure the HQ was as deserted as possible. He knew I wasn't going to be taking roll, and he knew I wasn't going to be taking prisoners, either. I did what I could to minimize the loss of life, but I have no control over who was and who wasn't in the building."

"It's only been thirty-six hours," Alex said, grasping at that. "Surely there's a chance he's in there, trapped somewhere, waiting. They're looking, aren't they?"

"They can't, Alex," Cass said, her voice gentle. "The fires are still burning."

Suddenly, the destruction of Watcher Headquarters was horribly real. People had died there. Bodies had burned. Some of them might have been burned alive. "I talked to Emory just last month," Alex said dully. "I talked to Joe. He answered the phone." And here she sat, drinking coffee with the person who had contributed to his death and arranged the destruction of twenty other people. "Excuse me," Alex murmured and fled inside.

Evann and Cassandra both leaned back with quiet, unhappy sighs. "She's never had to face this sort of thing before," Evann observed.

"No," Cassandra replied. "But she can. She's strong enough and practical enough to accept reality, even when she doesn't like it."

"That's obvious," Evann said. "She married Connor."

They shared a smile over that: Evann's faint and ironic, Cassandra's genuinely amused. Cassandra decided this was a good time to begin. Straight ahead was probably the best approach with this warrior-woman whom Connor had described as an "old friend." Exactly how old, Cassandra wasn't sure, but the order in which Connor had performed the introductions had made it clear that Evann was the elder. Cassandra also wasn't sure exactly what Connor had meant by "friend." Evann wasn't conventionally beautiful; her face was too angular for that, her figure too lean, but she was a striking woman, attractive in a quietly intense way, with an economy of motion that at times became grace. Connor was the type of man who could appreciate those qualities in a woman.

But age and relationships with Connor weren't important right now; Cassandra had other concerns. "Alex told me that you know Methos."

"You could say that," Evann allowed. "We go back a long way. You?"

"I met him the day I became an Immortal." Cassandra saw no need to go into the details.

Evann nodded slowly, looking her over. "He's never mentioned you."

"He wouldn't," she said serenely then kept right on going straight ahead. "There have been times," Cassandra confided to the older woman, "that I've wanted to take his head."

"Been there myself," Evann admitted, showing a larger smile now. Then all amusement disappeared, and the next words were a warning, almost a threat. "But I never would."

That was what Cassandra had wanted to know. "Neither will I," she promised. They held each other's gaze just as they'd done the day before—measuring, testing, and then finally, accepting. Or at least, not attacking, which was good. Evann might never be her friend, but Cassandra knew already that she never wanted Evann to be her enemy. Wariness was sufficient for now, and Cassandra held out hope for respect between them in the years to come.

Evann got up from her chair. "Alex likes time alone to think things through," Cassandra told her, and Evann nodded before she went inside.

Cassandra reached for her coffee and leaned back, pleased. That discussion had gone well. Perhaps other discussions would, too. The attack on the Watchers had been unexpected and distressingly deadly, but now there were new possibilities to be exploited, and new plans to be made. Evann looked to be a promising addition to the project, in several different ways.

Soon after Alex had curled up on the window seat in the dining room, Sara's cat jumped onto her lap and started to purr. Alex stroked Catkin's golden fur and stared blindly at the people walking by on the sidewalk outside, all the while thinking of Joe.

About ten minutes later, Evann came into the room then sat down in one of the chairs nearby. "I'm sorry," Evann said, and once again she sounded sincere. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

"Collateral damage," Alex said. "Isn't that what they call it?" Another pretty name for an ugly thing.

"Giving it a name doesn't make it any easier to stomach."

That was certainly true. Alex tried to remember what she had said just the day before. Something about "Full-scale attack" and "Do the job." Such facile, unthinking words. Such an easy command to give when you have absolutely no idea what it really means.

But Evann knew. She'd spent centuries as a soldier. She knew, and she'd given the order anyway. She was talking about what it really meant right now. "It's always someone's husband, someone's father, someone's son," Alex heard Evann say.

"Then why do you do it?" Alex asked bluntly. "Why do you kill, when you know it causes pain?"

Catkin chose that moment to investigate the stranger. He leapt from Alex's lap onto the floor and stalked over to Evann. She offered her fingers for him to sniff, which he did. Deeming her acceptable, he rubbed against her hand and then jumped into her lap, turning around twice before curling up and making himself comfortable. Evann's long fingers rubbed him just so behind the ears, and Catkin rewarded her with loud purrs. "Sometimes," Evann said, answering Alex's question, "it's necessary."

"So you don't have a choice," Alex supplied. She'd heard that often enough before.

Evann shook her head and started scratching under Catkin's chin. He closed his eyes and stretched out his neck, still purring, blissfully happy. "There's always a choice," Evann said. "But sometimes, the alternative is worse."

"And just how do you know when that 'sometimes' is? Or what the alternative will be?"

Evann turned her head as if to look out the window, but her eyes were unfocused, no doubt seeing events from long ago. "Experience," she finally said, her eyes sad.

Yet another voice of. Alex looked out the window again. There were no people walking by now. When she turned back, Catkin had started kneading his front paws into Evann's thighs. She kept scratching under his chin, but put her other hand under his feet to stop the sharp claws from digging through her jeans. "Alex, if you want me to, I'll leave," Evann offered.

"No," Alex said quickly. "Connor will want to see you before you go; he'll be back at lunchtime."

"But what do you want, Alex?"

She wanted Joe Dawson to be alive. She wanted not to know who was responsible for the deaths of twenty men. She wanted not to have to wonder how in the name of God she was ever going to be able to look Emory in the eye again. She wanted none of this to have happened at all.

But it had happened, and she did know. Last night, she'd sat down to dinner with two trained killers instead of only one, and truth to tell, it hadn't bothered her at all. Yet those twenty men were just as dead now as they'd been twelve hours ago. That hadn't changed. Evann hadn't changed. And Alex had been an accessory to murder before, starting two decades ago when Connor had taken Kane's head, and every single time since then, and with Duncan, too. And Cassandra. How many had it been? At least a dozen or more, and not all of them had been Immortals. Not all the death had been caused by Immortals, either. Alex had blood on her hands, too. She ought to be used to the killing by now—and to the lies.

"I want you to stay, Evann," Alex said firmly. "You're a guest in our home. You're welcome here."

Evann nodded, even though she didn't look totally convinced of Alex's sincerity. Alex couldn't blame her. When she heard Cass come inside a moment later, Alex seized the opportunity to escape the dining room. Evann followed her into the kitchen, but luckily Cass was still there, standing by the door. Catkin paraded between them to reach his food bowl in the corner, where he settled down next to his sister, Callie. The two cats crouched with tails curled around their feet, crunching their food between needle-sharp teeth.

"Would you like to play racquetball with me this morning, Evann?" Cass asked. "Or perhaps go running? Or a walk? Edinburgh's gardens are lovely in the summer."

Evann flashed a rare grin. "I had enough running with Connor yesterday afternoon. Racquetball sounds good."

"Wonderful!" Cass said. "My clothes and equipment are at the gym; would you like to get changed here?"

"Sure," Evann said then disappeared down the stairs to the basement apartment.

Alex was guiltily glad to see Evann go, and also glad to get a few moments alone with Cass. "Do you really believe what you said yesterday?" Alex demanded. "That the attack was 'necessary'?"

"We all knew something had to be done. Something was. It's not a way I would have chosen, but I'm not trained as a soldier."

"But you are trained as a politician, which means you say things you don't mean."

Cass's sigh contained both a smile and a shrug. "It means that I try to understand other people's point of view, and that I'm willing to compromise and work with whatever comes my way."

"Including Evann."

"Oh, I think we definitely need to include her in our plans, don't you?" Cass asked, then added with a touch of exasperation, "Especially if she continues to blow things up."

That was certain. "We should have included her from the beginning," Alex said. "Or at least told her what we were doing. But she was on manuevers when we had our first meeting and then ... I forgot." There'd been so many things to keep track of these last few years. "Damn it," Alex swore, wishing there was something nearby she could smash to the floor. "I forgot."

"No one ever invites Eris." Cass picked up an apple from the bowl of fruit on the counter and turned it between her hands. "But the apple of discord always appears."

"There was no Helen this time," Alex said impatiently. "This wasn't the Trojan War."

"You're right," Cass said, setting the apple down. "It wasn't."

"Who do you think Evann's contact was, Cass?" Alex asked. She'd been wondering about that ever since Evann had mentioned the man.

Cass went still, thinking about that, then said, "Evann knew that the Tribune of the Guard was at the building on the night it was destroyed, and she said her 'contact' would have had access to the other tribunes. From what Evann and Connor were saying yesterday, it sounded as if the attack went almost precisely as planned. Attacks seldom work that well without inside help. That all points to someone in security, perhaps even Tribune Rhee himself."

Alex had heard that name before. "Didn't you meet Rhee?" she asked. "A few years ago?"

Cass nodded. "Demiko introduced us."

Alex didn't like where this was going. "Did you ask her to introduce you? Or did you order her to?"

Cassandra met her gaze squarely. "Neither. We met by accident at the cathedral in Chartres."

"All three of you just happened to be there. At the same time. On the same day. On Holy Ground."

"It's a common tourist destination, which is precisely why Demiko and I met there. It just so happened that Tribune Rhee had decided to go sightseeing that day, too." She pulled out a kitchen chair and then, with one graceful hand, she swept her hair out of her way as she sat down. When she took her hand away, the golden-brown strands lay pooled about her on the seat of the chair. Alex wondered if Cassandra practiced that, to arrange the hair just so.

Cassandra's eyes were unblinking dark green, beautiful and calm. Too calm. "Why are you so suspicious of me on this, Alex?" she asked, with more of that blunt honesty that left no room to hide or pretend.

Alex had nothing to hide, and she'd never been one to pretend. "Because you don't seem to care." She pulled out her own chair and sat down. She didn't have to move any hair out of the way. "Because I know what you're capable of," Alex continued, facing Cassandra across the table, "and because I know what you've done." To those two rapists, to Connor, and to others through the years. "What did you do to Rhee?"

"Nothing," Cassandra protested. "I did use the Voice on him so he wouldn't recognize me or remember me clearly, but other than that, we just talked. That's all."

"Talked about what?"

"Architecture, history, religion." Cassandra tossed off the words. Then she added, "Politics. Witch hunts. Pogroms. The dangers of being different, of being noticed."

"And you say that's nothing?" Alex demanded. "Are you telling me that you didn't have an ulterior motive in picking those topics?"

"Of course not. You and I had already agreed that the Watchers needed to be less conspicuous. And you're the one who wanted them eliminated—completely."

That was true. But not this way. Never this way.

"So, yes, I was trying to convince him that the Watchers should be more circumspect," Cassandra was saying, "but I never used the Voice on him for that."

"You don't have to, Cassandra!" Alex burst out. "That power is a part of you, all the time, just as a ballerina is always graceful, whether she's dancing on stage or just walking across a room. You always influence people."

Cassandra started to speak, then turned her head aside, looking away, looking inside herself. "I did not make him betray or kill his own people," she said finally, the words quiet, almost dull. "Even with the Voice, that takes immense control. You have to stand over them, order them again and again, tell them to—" She stopped abruptly and swallowed, a grimace of pain crossing her face. "They resist the commands, to the end."

"The voice of experience?" Alex sniped.

"Yes," Cassandra said, almost hissing the word, no longer calm. "But of watching, not doing. Roland took my children, ordered my husband to—" She was up and out of her chair, her hair swirling about her as she turned her back on Alex and stared out the window at the garden. Her shoulders trembled then rose and fell slowly with deep breaths. After a long silent moment, she declared, "I have never used the Voice that way." She turned to face Alex again. "And I never will."

After another silent moment, Alex said quietly, "I'm sorry."

Cass gave an abrupt nod then sat down again. When Alex finally looked up from the table, she was met by aged and weary eyes. "I do regret the deaths of those Watchers, Alex," Cass said, "but during my lifetime, billions have been born, and billions have died. I've had a great deal of experience in accepting death and then moving on."

"Yet you said it still hurts."

"Yes, if I love them, if they're my friends. If not…" She gave a tiny shrug.

"You don't care," Alex finished for her. But was that really surprising? Cass and Joe had spoken to each other … what? Three times in twenty years? And they had hardly been friends. Why should Cass pretend grief? Alex wasn't mourning, either. She was worrying about Duncan and empathizing with Emory, imagining what it would be like to be widowed with two young children, but Alex wasn't grieving for Joe. She hadn't known him very well. She didn't really care, not about him.

"Nearly two hundred thousand people died yesterday, Alex," Cass said. "Sixty million people will die this year. I can't possibly care about them all. Can you?"

"No," Alex agreed. "But their deaths have nothing to do with me. I don't know their names or where they lived or how they died. Or who made them die. This time, I do."

Cass leaned back in her chair, watching Alex closely. "Tell me, Alex," Cass began, "when you were in the States last October, what did you and Evann talk about?"

Alex realized then that she did have something to hide, after all. She'd been hiding it even from herself. This was what she cared about. This was why she was angry. "We talked about the Watchers," she admitted. "I told Evann I wanted them gone." She drew in a trembling breath. "Maybe if I hadn't— Maybe Joe—"

"Your comments did not force Evann to stage the attack," Cass interrupted firmly. "That was her decision, and hers alone."

"Just as Rhee's decisions were his?" she challenged.

"Yes. If indeed it was Rhee. We don't know that for certain."

Alex went back to staring at the table. "But we did influence them."

"Yes, but…" Cass shook her head. "It's as you said, Alex: all of us always influence people, whether we're trying to or not. Simply by existing, each of us changes the world. But one discussion won't force someone to do something. People make their own decisions. They chose their own paths."

"Maybe so," Alex allowed. "And maybe that was true here. But, Cass," Alex said, leaning forward now, "we are trying to influence people. We're trying to change the world. Phinyx is broadening some of those paths into roads."

"Yes," Cass agreed. "Roads are easier to follow."

"What are we paving those roads with, Cass? Good intentions?" Cass almost smiled, but it wasn't happy. Alex wasn't happy, either. She asked next: "And where do those roads lead?"

But Alex didn't get an answer, because just then Evann came up the stairs and into the kitchen, dressed in blue shorts and a T-shirt emblazoned with an eagle, her black hair pulled back with a clip at the nape of her neck. "Ready?" she said to Cass.

"Let's go!" Cass answered, and the two Immortal women went off to the gym to smack a small rubber ball around an empty white room. Alex went for a walk in the gardens by herself, taking it slowly on the hills. Cassandra had been right; the gardens were lovely this time of year.

Alex got home around ten, picked up a book but couldn't read, turned on her laptop but couldn't write, turned on the TV but couldn't watch. She wound up making a batch of chocolate chip cookies and then scrubbing the kitchen cupboards instead.

Cass and Evann still weren't back when Connor and the kids came home, and so it was up to Alex to break the news to Connor about Joe, as soon as she got the chance. She listened to the kids' description of the karate tournament (Colin had won three of his bouts; Sara had won two), fed them all lunch (finished off with the cookies), then waited until the twins had gone upstairs and she and Connor were alone in the kitchen. "Joe Dawson was in the building on Saturday night," Alex said. "He hasn't been heard from since."

Connor paused briefly in reaching for his glass of lemonade, then picked it up and drank. He set it down with a muttered curse and a sigh.

Alex came back to her question again. "Do you think the attack was necessary?"

There was another pause, even longer this time. "Not absolutely. But it's done."

And all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put things together again. "What do we tell Duncan?" Alex asked next.

Connor shook his head. "If Dawson is gone, that's for Emory to do, not us."

That wasn't what Alex had meant. "What do we tell Duncan about Evann?"

"Same as before. Evann would prefer her role in this be kept quiet. I respect that."

Alex had to say it. "She may have killed his friend."

"And Duncan killed her husband."

"That was the Game," Alex protested.

"And this was war."

"Was it?" Alex challenged. "Or has she just started one?"

"Evann won't do anything more, and the Watchers won't come after Immortals, not again, not after the Hunters and after Galati," Connor said flatly. "This won't escalate."

"Maybe not between them, but what about Duncan? Would he go after her, if he knew?"

Connor drank some more lemonade, thinking. "No," he said finally. "Even after Galati killed dozens of Watchers and gunned Dawson down, Duncan didn't want Galati's head. Duncan didn't go after Tessa's killer, either. And that was Duncan of twenty years ago; he's even less likely to go looking for revenge now. He's changed, plus he has a family to think of."

"So did Joe." Alex had to say that, too.

Connor met her gaze and nodded slowly, but said nothing. There was nothing to say. If Joe really was gone, no one could bring him back, no matter what they did or didn't do.

Alex left the table and went upstairs to her book-cluttered office, shutting the door behind her. She took out her favorite pen and a sheet of stationery. "Dear Emory," the letter of condolence began … and stopped. Alex didn't know where to go from there. Half an hour later, she heard Evann return from her jaunt with Cassandra. Alex went downstairs for a blessedly brief good-bye.

"Are you all right?" Connor asked her in concern after Evann had left for the airport and Cassandra had gone to work at the Phinyx school.

"Not really," Alex said. "But I'll deal with it, in time. Right now I have something I need to do upstairs." Maybe with Evann gone, it would be easier to find the words.

It wasn't. "Dear Emory," the letter began. The rest of the page stayed blank for days.

This story is continued in "The Darkness", in which Joe's family and friends say goodbye.