Date: Thu, 28 Jul 1994 15:23:28 +0000 Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: "kimberly (k.s.) smith" Subject: BLIND FAITH (1/4) In response to the demand for stories, here is my contribution to the Highlander universe. Thanks to Marseille the Plothole Filler and Zoomway the Comma Police, without whom I wouldn't have had the nerve to post this. Please E-mail comments (and I want lots of them) to me at: ksmith@aludra.usc.edu. ********************************************************************* BLIND FAITH (Part One) Northern California, 1975 She sat alone on the balcony of the ocean-side house. The wind whipped through sable hair, its strength only a precursor to the storm which roiled on the horizon. Distant thunder drew closer, while lightning lent its spark to the air, the waves pounding harder every second. She drank in the sound and smell of the storm, as she had a thousand times before and would a thousand times again...she hoped. "It's too cold out here for you," a quiet voice said behind her. She felt a heavy coat slide around her shoulders and smiled at its rough comfort. "It's not cold at all. Just wild." The salt spray beat against her face. The cushion gave as he sat beside her. "He hasn't come yet." It wasn't a question. "No," he answered quietly. "He may never come, Cade." "He will." She felt it as surely as she felt the storm moving in. "He's waited a long time. He won't wait much longer. He wants to finish his game." He didn't answer, knowing the truth as well as she did. "He will come," she said to her companion, or maybe to the air. "He will come and you will protect me. As always." Again he didn't answer. He simply looked at her, at the young face with its old eyes - old, sightless eyes and the calm half-smile beneath them. He felt the smoothness and the weight of the sword which rested at her side. Felt the weight of his own press against his back, as heavy as the weight of her trust. "Yes," he said, too quietly to be heard. "I'll protect you this time." She heard. Her hand stole to his as they watched the storm move in. And remembered. ******* She was eighteen, and the prettiest woman in the Virginia Colony. Her green eyes were always laughing. They carried not a little bit of mischief in them - and not a little bit of intelligence. But the men who clustered around her chose to ignore that intelligence. For her birthday, she was content to let them. Duncan watched the girl with studied casualness, enjoying her easy grace. A hundred years ago he would have been in the crowd of young men that circled her. But he was no longer young; now, he was content simply to watch Acadiana St. John. Her head turned as if she felt his gaze. She grinned, her eyes full of wry pleading for all that she could not see him. He shoved himself away from the wall he had been holding up and sauntered over to her. "I believe I have claimed this dance," he said smoothly, sweeping away from the throng of admirers and onto the crowded ballroom floor. "Thank heaven," Acadiana said with a sigh. "They're all very sweet, but I can only survive so many for so long." "The price of being a belle," Duncan shrugged. "I would appreciate being a belle more if it was me they wanted, not Father's money." Duncan laughed. "Maybe it's both." Her snort was less than ladylike. "Maybe." They were separated by the movements of the minuet and didn't reunite for several minutes. Duncan surveyed the room. "Anything yet?" she asked as they came together again. "No." "Maybe he won't come." "He'll come. His Majesty's government is paying him well for information about the activities in Boston. Your father is up to his neck bank- rolling revolutionaries, and Danneau is well aware of it. He'll come." A murmer of agreement. "At least he won't be able to do anything without me - or, more precisely, without the key to Father's safe." "Which you, being a loyal little British subject desperately in love with him, will obligingly turn over." "Not too bloody likely, but he doesn't have to know that." Duncan grinned in admiration, wishing she could see the pride on his face. *She has courage, this one. Maybe too much courage...* as if in answer to his thoughts, he felt a sudden screaming in his brain. He looked around, and located the Immortal who had set off the warning. He found the tall man at the entrance. He was dressed immaculately, his smile gracious and charming as he greeted St. John, Acadiana's father. He didn't look like a spy -- or a killer. As he moved away, St. John and Duncan exchanged a silent signal. A potted plant had made a convenient hiding place. "He's here," Duncan told Acadiana. "Remember the plan, lass." "Of course." Her voice was calm, but her hands shook. "He's at the door?" "Coming this way." "Looking for me, no doubt." She set her shoulders, bit her lip. "Well, then, I'd better go meet my faithful beau." Bitter sarcasm coated her words, but her wide, sightless eyes showed her fear. "You don't have to do this, Cadian." The words sounded like someone else's. "We'll think of another way--" "No," she cut him off. "It's too late. He'll destroy my father and any hope of freedom. It has to be tonight." Her eyes hit his with frightening accuracy. "Be ready, Duncan." She left the shelter of the tree in a swirl of bright color. Duncan stayed hidden. He could not afford to let Danneau spot him. The man already knew there was another Immortal there. Danneau had felt the same warning as he cleared the door. He savored it for a moment and thought about seeking out the source. Then he shrugged it off as he spotted Acadiana and bulled his way through the crowd to her. Acadiana sensed him coming long before he reached her, smelled the powerful cologne he insisted on wearing. Its odor was an assault on her senses. "Monsieur, you have found your way to me," she greeted him. "But of course, my dear," he answered with a low bow. He kissed her hand with dry lips. She fought the instinctive flinch. Her smile stayed in place. Duncan applauded her acting. "Come, I must claim a dance." He led her onto the floor. "Do you have the key?" he asked when they were safely lost among the dancers. "Yes," she answered. "But, Jean-Paul ...I do not know if I can go through with this. My father..." "My dear, I understand that you are afraid and your loyalty does you credit. But he is a traitor to your country. You must realize how dangerous his involvement in this uprising is. If he is stopped now, it will go easier for him." She fought the urge to kill him then and there. Instead, she smiled up at him weakly. "You are right, Jean-Paul." "Of course. Come,let us go. The sooner we begin, the sooner it will all be over ." Over her head, he smiled. End part one =========================================================================