The Watchers were not the only ones observing the Immortal household. As Morgan painted her eyelids with liner in a vibrant purple shade to match her eyeshadow she glanced away from the mirror and out of the bathroom window, which was open to let the warm breeze in. The window was on the side of the house, boardered by the garden and Paddock and an ancient Hawthorne hedge beyond. The paddock five barred gate onto the road was the only gap in that thick stand of trees. In the area it was well known to be private property and no local would be so rude as to obstruct the entrance. Today, however, the gate was blocked. An old car was drawn up off the road, in the shelter of the hedge. It was a vehicle she had seen a couple of times the last few days, with only one occupant that she could make out. It made her very uneasy, sending a chill straight down her back. She made her way downstairs with a heavy frown on her face, Martin looked up from his crossword as she entered the Lounge.
"What's the matter Morgan?" he asked, concerned.
"There's someone watching the house" she replied.
"What do you mean?"
"There's been a car parked in the field entrance since early morning. It's been there before, a couple of times. I… I think it's him…" the facial tic and hesitation was all the indication Farrell and Penwarden needed to work out who she meant.
"Did you recognise the occupant?"
Morgan shook her head. "It's too far away. But it's creepy as hell, I'm sure I saw a reflection from something like Binoculars!"
Martin nodded slowly. "Try and stay calm" he advised. "William and I will check it out. Lock the doors and stay put"
She nodded as William got to his feet and folded the newspaper that he had been reading.
"It's probably just the Watchers" Farrell advised his friend as they walked down the front path, well out of Morgan's earshot".
"I wouldn't be so sure. Since when did the Watchers site themselves in plain view in the same place several days running?" They were walking a circuitous route, aiming to come up on the trespassing vehicle from the opposite direction.
"Good question".
"My point precisely."
They could see the car now. It was a shabby Land Rover Defender; ex-military stock that was obviously destined for the Breaker's Yard in the very near future. The driver's window was rolled down, a curl of drifting blue smoke indicated that the solitary occupant was smoking a cigarette. Martin scowled as he saw light glint off a pair of Binoculars and he picked up his pace so that William had to half jog to keep up with his taller friend. Penwarden gestured with a hand, giving Farrell the signal to circle around and out flank the vehicle. Farrell nodded and was moving into position to block the Driver's door when both Immortals felt the Presence of a third of their kind. Almost in the same moment the Landrover's engine roared into life, slammed into gear and surged forward. Martin, close to the front nearside wing of the vehicle did not have the opportunity to leap aside. The Landrover's driver did not stop as the Cornish Immortal was caught in the vehicle's bull bars, then thrown up and over the hood. By the time his body struck the road, the Immortal trespasser had vanished.
"Shit!" Farrell swore under his breath as he made his way to his friend. Not surprisingly he was dead. The road, while quiet was hardly unused. Grunting with effort, he hauled the younger man's deadweight up and managed to get him balanced across his shoulders. "Good Lord, Man, when did you put on this muscle bulk?" he muttered to himself. "I swear you didn't weigh this much when I dragged your scrawny corpse out of that mass grave 400 years ago". Complaining to himself, Farrell made his way to the nearest concealed place. In the middle of the paddock was a weather shelter, holding hay and water for the horses. With a grunt he dropped his friend down on the hay, with slightly more force than he meant to.
A minute later, Penwarden revived with a gasp and a wince. "Bloody hell!" he cursed, sitting up tentatively. "Farrell?"
"All in one piece... but whoever he was, he got away".
"He was definitely watching the house... Morgan's side of the house anyway. This could be bad" Martin noted.
"You're telling me. I think we ought to keep a closer eye on the child for the time being".
Penwarden nodded. "I do not doubt her ability to defend herself against an Immortal challenger, but Ziegler is... different. He does not obey the rules, and, where Morgan is concerned... he is the essence of fear itself and if she cannot overcome it..." He let the sentence hang for a heartbeat then sighed, brushing the road dirt and hay off his clothes as best he could. There was a moment's uncomfortable silence before he spoke again.
"I was meaning to speak to you actually. How's that special project coming?"
Farrell nodded and a smile broke onto his face. "It's almost finished" he replied. "They're just finished fitting out and they're working on the paintwork. Give it another couple of weeks."
"Have you seen it? Will she like it?"
"My friend" William put a hand on Martin's shoulder. "Trust me, she's going to love it."
A few weeks later:
"How are you doing?"
"Terrible… do we have to sit so close?"
"There'd be no point doing it if we weren't."
"Well couldn't you have picked something safer… like a bath tub!"
"Very droll. You're perfectly safe and if, by some bizarre quirk of fate you do end up in the water, it can't be any more than two feet deep. So calm down." Morgan smiled gently at her Mentor.
Martin shook his head. "If man were meant to spend time in the water, he'd have been born with fins."
"Okay, okay. You've already made it clear I'm not going to get you into a pool any time soon and I'm not even going to try, but there really is nothing to worry about just sitting on a riverbank." She laid a reassuring hand upon Martin's shoulder. "So let's start by just sitting here on this bench and watching the world go by."
Penwarden nodded slightly then leaned back and tried to relax and ignore the weasily little voice that whispered in the back of his mind and insisted that the water was dangerous, that the river could break its' banks and drown him any second. A brilliant flash of blue shot from under a low hanging tree on the opposite bank. The Kingfisher broke the surface with barely a ripple and soon reappeared, carrying a small silver fish in its' slender beak. A pair of swans with a clutch of tiny Cygnets drifted majestically down stream past a growth of reeds, swaying in the warm summer breeze. A sideways glance at his student told him that Morgan had noticed them too. Suddenly she stiffened and her eyes sharpened, staring into the small copse lining the opposite bank. Evidently, the wildlife was not the only thing she had noticed.
"Martin" she murmured softly. "There's a man over there. He's watching us!"
"Where?" he asked as he slowly turned his attention in the direction she was looking. He didn't have to ask really. There was a young man hiding among the trees and he hadn't done a very good job of concealing himself.
Morgan stood slowly, anger simmering behind her mismatched eyes. "Whoever that is, is going to wish he'd never decided to spy on me!"
"No! Morgan, wait!" Martin cursed his student's powerful sense of paranoia. Damn kids always so impulsive!
She hesitated with one foot on the bottom slope of the bridge, turning to glance at him over her shoulder.
"You have no idea who or what is over there. Charging in like a one woman army is a really bad idea. Anything could happen. If you want to live forever then you need to think before you act, with the notable exception of you being attacked. That's when you have to act on instinct unless you want to die."
The younger Immortal scowled darkly. "My instincts say there's someone over there playing Peeping Tom. The back of my neck says he's Mortal and I should go over there and kick his ass!"
Martin shook his head. "My experience says there's two of us and we should work together. You create a diversion and I'll go over there and do any ass kicking that may be necessary.
Morgan hesitated again and something flickered in her eyes. "Do you know something I don't?"
"Your instinct serves you well my young Padawan... but on this occasion I must allow my experience to take the lead."
"Well you tell it to do that while I kill the pervert in the tree"
"Do you have a damn death wish?! Walk along the tow path... keep his attention while I outflank him. No arguments!" he pushed passed her and crossed the canal bridge.
Morgan muttered a few foul words under her breath but eventually she did as she was told and started walking again.
You'll thank me one day Martin sighed to himself as he slipped under cover of the trees, moving stealthily to the position his student had indicated. He was only half surprised when he caught sight of a young man sitting in a hollow between the trees. He was holding a pair of Binoculars and was only half concealed by the foliage. A dictaphone and a reporters notebook lay on the tree stump beside him. The hand focusing the lenses was darkened at the wrist by a familiar tattoo. The shock of red hair and distinct lack of facial hair growth was also telling. My God, they're recruiting children to do a Watcher's job now... if I confront him, he'll have a heart attack. The kid was oblivious to Martin's observation as he concentrated on Morgan, tossing a few crumbs of stale bread to the swan family. Well, she knows he's here. I'm going to have to do something. He stumbled through the undergrowth "Fenris! Fenris! Damn where is that dog! Oh... excuse me; you wouldn't happen to have seen a large black dog around here anywhere would you?
The kid jumped feet. "Oh, uh no. No I haven't. Sorry. I've been concentrating on the birds. Amazing creatures, Herons".
"Oh well; it's just he's a little bad tempered... actually doesn't like Binoculars at all. He was mistreated as a pup you see; so I'd try and keep those things out of sight. Heron you say?" He feigned surprise. "It's rare to see Herons around here what with the weir and the lock, they prefer still water. You'd be better about five miles upstream, but then again you probably already knew that".
The kid nodded, bewildered.
"On the other hand... I'm willing to bet you don't know the first thing about birds and you certainly aren't here to watch them. At least, not the feathered variety. Now; I suggest you move along before a large black dog with a Bino phobia finds his way over. Here Fenris! Dinner!"
The young Watcher looked about him nervously before gathering up his equipment and legging it towards the road.
Penwarden grinned to himself as he made his way back to his student. Age and treachery overcome youth and bravado every time. She was leaning on the parapet of the Victorian red brick bridge when he arrived. "Problem solved" he told her. "Birdwatcher looking for Herons. I told him to move along. There's better water about five miles upstream."
"Speaking of water"
"Oh God I was hoping you'd forgotten. Look, just take my head! It's yours! Hang on a minute..." a wide smile stretched across his face. "I'm standing on a bridge... I didn't just hurry across. I'm actually standing on a bridge and I'm not panicking!"
"Yeah, you're crazy alright. How does it feel?"
"Well I've just realised I'm bricking it but... I don't know... I've been terrified of water ever since I was a child" as he spoke, the faint blurred memories of the shipwreck ran through his mind. "If someone came to me in the same situation, I'd have a massive problem helping them in the short term".
"Where would we be without water?"
"You don't need to remind me, but how many people do you hear of who drowned in a drinking glass. The really weird thing is that I can't drown. So it must be a conditioned phobia rooted in my childhood. That said, I think I could manage to walk down here with you if you don't mind. We could bring the mutts".
Morgan shook her head firmly. "Er, no. I've seen how your two pedigree reprobates behave when confronted with a puddle. Fenris will follow and I am not diving in there after them!"
"But I can't swim"
"Guess what lesson two is"
"You... you... Witch!"
"Hell yeah... come on... you can buy me a drink"
The fragrance of coffee hung in the air like a heavy perfume. The trained olfactory sense could detect over a dozen blends and varieties. Yet it was only one variety that Morgan was interested in, and it was not the decaffeinated blend that Martin wanted her to consume.
"It's for your own good, Morgan" the Cornishman insisted gently. "Your heart will not cope with too much caffeine. It's all too easy to fall off the wagon".
The younger Immortal sighed softly. "Just one won't hurt, Martin." I mean… decaf's ok, but it's just not the same."
"I buy good quality stuff. You just miss the kick of the caffeine".
"It's the taste that counts" Morgan made a half hearted attempt to bat her eyelashes at her mentor.
Martin nodded reluctantly. "Ok, ok, I give. But just one, mind" If it will stop you from turning to those vile, sugar laden energy drinks... Wisely he kept the second half of his remark to himself. He rose from his seat and walked over to the counter. The waitress came to serve him and he ordered three large houseblends. He handed over the payment and soon enough three big white mugs were placed on a tray on the counter in front of him. Penwarden conveyed them back to their sunny window table, where he was welcomed by a rare grin from his student and a cheery honk from outside where Farrell's car was pulling up. As usual, the oldest member of their trio was just in time to take advantage of someone else buying the drinks.
In a dark corner, three men were drinking tea. A craggy nosed, black haired guy leaned over to his companions. "Well there's one for the Chronicle" he whispered. "A woman has Penwarden wrapped around her little finger. I never thought I'd see the day!" The older of his companions nodded in agreement whilst the red haired young man looked faintly worried. The close proximity of the Immortals made him nervous.
"Well Morgan…" Farrell stretched comfortably on the soft coffee shop sofa and took a swallow of his coffee. "How are things are going?"
She cupped her hands around the warm mug and inhaled the steam with a half-sigh of contentment.
"I just… you and Martin have done so much for me…"
"And?"
"She opened her mouth to speak but the words did not escape her lips. Her eyes suddenly narrowed and became hard and cold as she focused on something over Martin's right shoulder.
Farrell followed her gaze. "What is it?" he asked.
"Those men over there…"
"The ones in the far corner, near the back wall?"
"I've seen them before... a few times..."
William glanced towards Martin with a surreptitious frown before he answered. "Where? How many times?" he asked, casually.
Martin leaned slightly closer, his brows knitting slightly as she lowered her voice even further.
Morgan spoke in a dangerously measured tone. "Everywhere I... we... go. That redhaired guy with the laptop is the one we saw down by the canal. I've seen the others too".
"Meaning?"
"Meaning I'm going to find out what the hell they think they're doing!" Her mug hit the table with a dull thud and the sloshing of liquid inside as it was slammed down.
Oh hell Martin groaned to himself before catching his young friend's wrist, gently but firmly restraining her from standing up before speaking in a hushed tone. "Don't! You're drawing attention to yourself!" he warned.
"Don't care" she sounded petulant.
As she pulled free and stood, Farrell glanced back at Martin. "I thought you'd gotten her past the worst of this paranoia" he groaned.
"I did!" Penwarden had to prevent himself from snarling in frustration. "Don't you recall? The first few months she was here, she was so scared she wouldn't leave the house without me; not even to walk into the garden",
"I remember" William conceeded. "And if the damn three stooges over there were any good at being Watchers she wouldn't have noticed them". Farrell was cut off as Morgan laid her hand heavily on the shoulder of the nearest Watcher.
"Can I, ugh, can I help you Ma'am?" he attempted a polite smile
"Yeah! Tell me why the hell you're stuck to me like Superglue!" she demanded.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean. We're just having afternoon Tea." One of his companions glanced across the cafe to the older two immortals. Farrell rewarded him with a beaming smile and a little wave.
"Bull. Shit." Morgan shifted her grip slightly, twining her fingers into the fabric of his shirt until the collar became tight enough to restrict breathing and the young man's face began to turn first red and then purple.
Martin rose to his feet reluctantly. He had to intervene. "Come along kiddo" he coaxed. "Why don't you calm down a little... you don't want to get barred from this joint do you?"
"I damn well don't care!" Penwarden's training had been effective and (especially since the Dark Quickening) his young student was far stronger than a casual observer would have guessed from her build. With very only a very little effort she pulled the Watcher up from his chair. "Let's take this outside shall we?" She shoved the hapless boy into the door and walked towards it with a singular predatory menace, pausing only to glare and Martin and William; her gleaming eyes daring them to get involved.
The Watcher gulped. "Little help?"
As the door slammed, the other two Immortals got to their feet. "William, you'd better get after her and try to stop her from killing him. I'll have a word with Tweedledum and Tweedledee here. And I still want to drink here so I guess a little chat with the Barista wouldn't go too far amiss".
"Yes quite. Good luck with that." William hurried outside into the deserted street just in time to witness Morgan introducing the Watcher's nose to her left cross.
The young man (boy, really) howled in pain and gasped through blocked sinuses. "Stop! I don't want to hit a woman!" he spotted William over the Immortal woman's shoulder. "Help me! She's crazy!"
Farrell winced. "Oops, wrong thing to say there son". He shook his head and his voice became stern. "Ok Morgan, it's time to stop now. Pretty boy wants to keep his chiselled jaw. Besides, we don't really want the police showing up do we?"
Morgan ignored him, her fury focused entirely on the Watcher. "Why do you follow me everywhere I go!" Mad as hell she grasped his shoulders and began to slam his body up against the brick wall of the side of the building. "Answer me!" she snarled.
"I think it's time to come clean with her my young friend. If you do, she may just let you live." The Watcher swallowed as Doyle's hard eyes bored into him The effect of one brown eye and one blue was more than slightly creepy. "Do it son" William urged again. "I'd hate your friends in there to have to tell your family that you died because you were stupid.
"Okay! Okay!" the boy gasped. "I'll tell you! Only let go of me!".
She glared at him expectantly, her grip not slackening even a little, although she did relax the pressure pinning him to the brickwork.
"I'm your Watcher"
"My what?"
"Your Watcher. We follow people like you and keep records on your lives. I don't mean you any harm. Mr Farrell's and Mr Penwarden's Watchers were with me in the coffee shop".
The white knuckle grip relaxed a fraction and Morgan paled in shock. "All... people like us?"
"As far as I know, yes" he nodded.
"Where they watching 'Him'!" Her eyes darkened again
"Him who?"
"The one who did this!" Morgan pulled her scarf aside to reveal the angry scarring on her throat. After a glance, the boy averted his eyes from the gruesome display.
"I don't know who did that. But if it was an Immortal then his Watcher couldn't get involved. We just watch. We can't interfere".
"Just... Watch... Someone just... watched while he murdered me! Just watched and did nothing!" she launched herself at him in a red haze of renewed fury.
"Woah! Stop! It wasn't my fault! I don't make the rules!" If the comment was intended to placate her, it did precisely the opposite as Morgan let out a snarl of rage and grief and started to lay into the Watcher. Her blows were wild and unaimed so, taking a couple of quick steps forward, Farrell was able to grasp her arms and pull her away before she caused the mortal serious injury.
"They have rules to prevent them interfering in our lives. Now listen to me! There was nothing... Nothinghe or anyone else could have done to save you. They have lives too and sometimes their assigned Immortals slip off the scope". Morgan staggered slightly, exhausted by shock and grief. Her knees buckled and it was only Farrell's grip on her that stopped her from collapsing completely as she began to sob. He held her a few seconds more before drawing her into his arms and whispering soothingly. In a minute or two she had calmed slightly. "Look, I know it's a lot to take in, but these guys have been watching us for millennia. If you want to know if someone is a Watcher..." he grabbed the young man's left arm and turned it over to expose the inner wrist, revealing a blue tattoo. "That is the sign to look for".
"They can stop..."
"You don't understand. It all goes on record; a Chronicle. Don't you see? We're history. Like it or not, if he doesn't do his job, then someone else will. At least you know who he is, besides he seems like a nice lad. My Watcher is a complete asshole".
Morgan shook her head miserably; the hapless kid forgotten for now and her heart consumed by the agonising idea that someone had witnessed her rebirth into immortality and not lifted a finger to prevent the crimes that Zeigler and his damned 'church' had committed in the process.
"Look now... Zeigler's Watcher might not even have been there". Farrell glanced across at the boy. "Now my young friend, how long has there been a Watcher on Morgan?"
"Um, about six months" he mumbled after a moment's thought. "I was only assigned in March".
"There you go. The Watchers couldn't have seen it or they would have had you under surveillance much sooner. I know it's not much, but like I said, it's not the kid's fault"
The familiar Cornish drawl butted in from the direction of the street. "Evening all. Has World War Three ended yet?"
The other two Watchers peered out from around Penwarden. "Farrell been giving you problems, kid?" enquired the senior.
Morgan's Watcher attempted to straighten his clothing. "No sir!" he replied earnestly.
"Told you he was an asshole!" William snorted as Morgan buried her face in his shoulder, a vain effort to regain control of her emotions. "It's okay child, let it all out" he soothed before glaring across at the Watchers. "Okay Punk, do you feel lucky? Are you pre-Immortal or not? Shall we find out? Just say something stupid and we'll have our answers".
Penwarden and his Watcher glanced at one another and shrugged while Farrell's Watcher returned his stare in truly arrogant style. Penwarden's Watcher interrupted. "He's right, you are an asshole. Look, we'll leave you alone now. I think Morgan has a lot of questions to ask".
Martin nodded slightly. "You going to report this one's cover being blown?" The young Watcher gazed pleadingly at his senior colleague and shook his head.
"I don't think that's going to be necessary, do you?"
Farrell's Watcher glared at him, about to repeat chapter and verse before realising that they themselves would also be reassigned as their cover had been blown too.
William nodded slightly "Just stay the hell out of sight from now on. You idiots of all people should know how sensitive 'some people'..." he lowered his eyes to indicate Morgan "are to being watched, tracked or otherwise followed."
"Look, I'm sorry. Probie here still has a great deal of learning to do. I tried to stop things getting out of hand, but I had no idea he'd been spotted by her. I'm sorry for the distress we've caused you, Miss Doyle. By the book all three of us should be reassigned but that just means three more would be assigned in our places. We don't mean to harm, only to learn." The Watcher extended his hand to Martin who shook it firmly. "Thanks for the takeout. Come on kid, you and I need to have words."
As the mortals rounded the corner, Martin scratched his ear. "Well, we can still buy coffee here, which is a good thing. How you doing there, Morgan?"
Her reply was a muffled murmer. "I just want to go home, be alone for a while".
"We'll walk you back. Is that okay?"
Morgan nodded distantly and William squeezed her shoulder in a comforting gesture, which did nothing to raise her eyes from her feet. He leaned across to Martin with a whisper "I guess we don't mention the Hunters"
Martin rolled his eyes and nodded silently.
After about a hundred yards, Morgan stopped dead and looked up at William, almost accusingly. "How can you accept this! Those Voyeurs probably saw him kill your wife and again did nothing!"
"That is none of your business!" Farrell's face flushed with rage. "Why do you think I went after him? The Watchers are not police. I don't like them, at least not mine anyway, but put yourself in their position. What could they have done? They don't live on your doorstep!"
Morgan let out a snarl of pent up fury. "What kind of person makes a living out of observing some beast destroy lives left, right and centre without even dealing 911!" As angry as Farrell was, she was so furious that she was ice white and trembling.
"Look Missy, I've taken heads. Martin has taken heads. Does that make us evil? You've taken heads. We do it to survive, we all possess good and evil inside us. If I remember correctly, you wanted to taste my blood".
Morgan did not respond immediately but at the last comment, her eyes flashed with hurt. For the first time in months she seemed to retreat back inside herself. "That's not the same thing!" she whispered hoarsely. "Not the same thing at all" We take heads to survive, no other reason. Not out of sadism, not for pleasure. Isn't that what you taught me, Martin?"
"Humans, Immortals all have that trait. If the general public knew about us what do you think that would do? Answer if you can" William challenged.
Her voice was soft and steady, but bitter as she turned away. "I was dumb to think you would understand".
"No you don't! Look at me! If a Watcher called in the Feds, the existence of Immortals would be revealed to the world, where would that put us? I'll tell you where! Every security agency in the world would be after us. MI5, FBI, CIA, GRU, you name it... and they'll kill us. Remember, what man can't understand, it destroys. That's a fact!"
She glared at him "I'll give you facts! An Immortal murders in cold blood and gets away scott free because the one who saw it won't say a word. Not a damn word! For all you know they're all jacking off over the fucking photographs!" she turned her back on him and stalked away. Her eyes were glazed slightly and she ignored them all, Mortal and Immortal, pushing blindly through the passers-by.
Martin sighed again as Morgan's raven head disappeared from view in the down the street. "She's blocking, Old Friend. Nothing we say is going in and you know what that means".
"We go find that sick fuck and take his head?"
"Not how I would I have put it, but yes. You have a score to settle and if she doesn't see him killed it will knock her back".
"What does that mean?"
"She's starting to fall back into her old ways. She needs closure... she needs his head!"
"She'll never do it! She's still deep in grief. How long has it been since all this happened? Do you know? It's unfortunate that this... revelation came so soon." Farrell shook his head. "Damn women, why do they have to be so emotional?"
Penwarden rolled his eyes "You want your head ripped off? Keep that up and the Dark Quickening will pale in comparison. We need to find him and make her think that she found him. She needs to do this. I don't like it but I can't see any other option."
"I'll tell you what we need to do right now, Royalist. We need to find her before she does something foolish, like stretch her neck across the railway tracks" Farrell shuddered. "Messy"
"Okay, homing beacon mode. I'll go this way, you go that. Keep out of sight. You'll sense her before she senses you; call me when you find her and I'll do likewise". Martin turned to the unseen Watchers who had tailed them instead of making off on their own. "And you three, kindly piss off for the duration!" He clapped Farrell on the shoulder and set off down his chosen street.
Penwarden followed after Morgan, keeping his distance just far enough for her to be out of sight, but close enough that he could still sense her Quickening. She walked through the town and into the woodland that followed the canal as it snaked through the countryside. Her movement was purposeful and she didn't once so much as glance over her shoulder. 'Where does she think she's going?' wondered Martin as he pulled out his mobile phone and pressed speed dial. "No, I found her. She's on the canal bank. Never mind that! Just get here, now!" By the time he ended the call and returned the phone to his pocket the Quickening was almost out of range and rapidly growing fainter. Fortunately, there was just enough daylight coming through the overhanging trees for Penwarden to follow his student's prints in the soft muddy ground. On the left he could see the glimmer of still water and a flash of colour. Morgan was there; huddled up on her haunches at the water's edge; her hair escaping from its' neat knot and hanging down her back in a dishevelled mane. Alright, Martin he told himself. You can do this, it's only water... Hell! Why here? He cleared his throat. "Morgan... Morgan? Let us help. What can I do? What can Farrell do?"
A despondant mumble came back to him. "Christ can I not be alone for five minutes?" The words were angry but the voice was filled with misery. She turned her head to look at him and her face was stained with tears that had already fallen while her eyes were bright with tears that had yet to fall.
"Let it go. You have to let it go or you will explode".
"Let it go? Let it go? How can I let it go when it's all I have?"
"If it's all you have then it will destroy you. Even hatred is better than self pity. You've been through hell and things will never improve until you're able to let go and move on. I know this and so does Farrell. He wants Zeigler dead as much as you do, but he's not on the path to self destruction".
Running footsteps came up behind them and Farrell skidded to a halt, leaning over and resting his hands on his thighs as he gasped for breath, while smiling to hide the fact that he was knackered.
"So... what did I miss?"
"Nothing important" replied Penwarden smoothly. "Come on, Morgan. What say we go home and you can show William some of those new designs you've been working on".
Farrell himself was about to shake his head and declare that he had no interest in semi precious stones or in any jewellery or handicrafts. However, he was stopped by his former student's pointed glare. "Sounds great" he found himself replying. "Oh, and by the way. How would you two like to take a trip tomorrow?" He gave Penwarden a meaningful wink.
Penwarden caught on instantly. "Excellent idea" he declared. "Shall we?" He took Morgan's hand, only slightly surprised when she allowed him to lead her off the towpath and towards the lane that led back to the house.
Next morning, Farrell was up and hammering on the door at an indecently early hour. With her room being on the front of the house, Morgan was the first to hear him, right after the dogs, Fenris, Charles and Stuart. She opened the window after pulling her bathrobe closer about her. "Will it kill you to wait five minutes?"
"Absolutely! Come down here and open the door so I can get that lazy Royalist out of bed!"
The barking rose to an agitated crescendo as a key turned. "You don't need to. He's been up for hours. Now kindly leave the young lady alone".
Farrell bowed with a grin. "Of course" he replied and walked into the house without waiting for Penwarden to invite him in.
Finally, Morgan finished bathing and dressing and made her way downstairs, the enormous Fenris hot on her heels as always.
"At last!" William exclaimed. "Why do women always take hours to get ready?"
"What's going on?" The youngest Immortal was quite rightly bemused.
"Ignore him, he's had too much chocolate" replied Martin as he whalloped William with a rolled newspaper. "We thought we'd go for a drive... show you the area a little more".
"Sure, why not?" She shrugged and rubbed at red rimmed tired eyes as she poured cornflakes into a bowl before opening the fridge, looking for milk. Martin glared at Farrell, a silent warning not to give the game away. Farrell for his part was barely able to contain himself for the length of time it took Morgan to eat her breakfast, at which point he rushed to usher her out to the car with Martin following".
The trio drove for about an hour before turning into a small gateway with a tiny, barely readable sign on a post in the hedge. "What's here?" enquired Morgan.
"A surprise" grinned William.
"You know I hate surprises!"
"Trust me. This is a good surprise" he emphasised. "Come on".
Martin ushered his student down the steps and through a gate, where she was surprised to find herself standing at the head of a small Marina. A boathouse stood nearby with busy sounds emanating from it.
"Ah! Mr Farrell, Mr Penwarden. You're right on time. Everything's all ready for you". A grey haired man clambered out of the hulk of an old boat and wiped his hands on a rag that was already filthy with oil. "We just finished the final tests this morning. I take it you'd like to do some inspecting?" He smiled knowingly towards Morgan, who felt a brief pang of nervousness.
"Martin..." she murmured, worriedly.
"He nodded reassuringly. "Enough suspense, William. I think it's time to let the cat out of the bag" After a brief pause he turned back to his student. "The thing is" he began. "We've both noticed how much calmer and more contented you are when you're out alone in a wide open space... and, I know you won't want to live with me forever, so William and I got to thinking about how we could find you the independence that you thrive on and, well, we think we've found something ideal". As he spoke they were walking along the towpath, following William and his friend.
Eventually, they reached a boat whose paintwork and brass gleamed with newness. It was a narrowboat, seventy feet long, sporting a traditional stern and painted in the time honoured combination of red, yellow and green, picked out here and there with circular patterns and other waterways designs. From the bow stared a pair of painted eyes reminiscent of ancient Roman or Greek galleys. Unlike those ancient craft however, one eye was brown and one was blue. Morgan gasped slightly and looked up at William and Martin uncertainly. The builder smiled and, with a flourish, pulled the piece of Hessian away from the aft portion of the cabin to reveal the name 'December Rose'.
"Well? Do you like her?" asked Farrell, impatiently?
Morgan's answer was a mute, wide-eyed nod.
"She's all yours" he smiled as he handed her a set of keys.
"Mine... but..."
"No buts. Travel and live wherever you want, whenever you want; go as far as you want. There's nothing to tie you down anywhere unless you want it to".
"This... is amazing".
Martin interrupted. "Come and go as you please as well".
His student glanced at him in vague surprise. "Really?" she asked.
"Yes. Really. Now, how about taking a look inside?"
"Are you serious? You want to step onto a boat?"
"No I don't, I'm trying to be extra brave. Is it working?"
"I won't tell anyone the opposite" Morgan deadpanned. Carefully she stepped across the gap between the bank and the gunwhale and stood beside the tiller, with the keys in her hand. After a moment, she found the right one and the boat builder opened the hatch.
"After you Ma'am" he offered.
Morgan hesitated and, seeing the expression on her face, Farrell quickly stepped aboard. "Why don't I go first?" he suggested as he ducked down the steps and into the cabin. Martin and Morgan followed him, while the Mortal remained on deck. In the next hour, they explored every inch of the boat from the engine to the various nooks and crannies that William had specially designed for her to hide her sword or another weapon wherever she was on board. There was even a satellite internet connection with a backup portable WiFi aerial. "No excuse for you not to keep in touch" he quipped.
"I've never driven anything like this before. What do I do?"
"Ah, now that is where I come in" replied William. "I've taken lessons and I'm qualified to teach you. So there's nothing to worry about".
"Apparently not... but I do have one last question".
"Shoot... Er... Not literally, of course".
"How did you pick that name?"
"Now that's easy". He smiled. "Martin and I first met you in December, a timid, delicate flower, struggling to bloom. You're our 'December Rose'"
"I... had no idea you could wax so lyrical..."
"I was quite the Bard in my day. Didn't last very long, I couldn't remember the old stories for toffee... So, what do you think? Do you like it?"
"I love it!"
"Good" Martin interjected. "Because this is our gift to you. No ifs, buts, whys or hows. 'December Rose' is yours from stem to stern whether you want to live here permanently or just take off from time to time. Mooring fees and river license are taken care of for the expected lifespan of the boat, there's even funds set aside for servicing and other technical doodads, so don't worry about a thing".
Morgan seemed to speechless and she just nodded as she wandered up and down through the main cabin, examining every detail. "I... think... I'm going to love it"
Penwarden and Farrell smiled at one another and surreptitiously high-fived behind their friend's back.