========================================================================= Date: Thu, 18 Apr 1996 18:48:28 -0400 Reply-To: JJSWBT@AOL.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Wendy Tillis Subject: Isabel 07/13 Isabel By: Wendy Tillis jjswbt@aol.com Copyright April 1996 Part Seven =================== Isabel stood in her bra and panties and looked at the clothes spread out on the bed. Layer upon layer of heavy cotton and wool clothing. "At least the underwear is modern and we don't have to wear those horrid woolen stockings anymore." she thought as she talked herself into getting dressed. The habit wasn't, strictly speaking, uncomfortable but it hadn't changed nearly enough in the last 400 years to suit Isabel. "I should have stayed in the tropics" she laughed to herself. "That get-up weighs half this." She considered again the clothes spread out so carefully. Chemise, floor-length half slip. Camisole. The long wide sleeved habit itself. The narrow leather girdle that acted as a belt. The scapular that went over it all. The wimple that covered her head all the way down to her throat. The white under-veil, the grey over-veil. The small pectoral cross that she wore outside the habit. The wooden rosary that lay coiled on the night stand and went on her belt. The black tights, the dull black shoes. She sighed. She didn't *have* to wear the habit - but some of the old ladies on the Christmas Pageant Committee liked it. Turning away from the bed, she happened to glance into her closet. Leaning up against the wall was a worn leather scabbard, the silver hilt of her sword beckoning to her. By habit, the door to her bedroom was partially open. There was a time when nuns never closed doors all the way - when personal privacy was a thing to be discouraged. Even though the rules had changed in the 1960's, she tended to forget - too many years living under the old rules to change now. She could hear Sister Michael preparing their breakfast in the kitchen. Isabel looked at her watch. 6:00am. It was Wednesday and that meant it was time for another morning meeting with the Christmas Pageant committee. Then this afternoon, she and Sister Michael were to visit Pius X High School and try to convince a bunch of high school girls that they should consider the Orders as a possible career. Isabel looked out the window at the coming dawn. It was still dark but there was a hint of light and it smelled like snow. She didn't *want* to go to another meeting, she didn't want to recruit new Sisters. She wanted to be out *there* - doing something just for herself. Suddenly making a decision, she threw her robe around her and went out to the kitchen. "Sister? I really don't feel well at all. I think I should stay in today." "Sister! Are you all right? Should I call a doctor?" Sister Michael was alarmed. Sister Gabriel was *never* sick . It was a legend in the Order - Sister Gabriel had once stayed on her feet for two weeks in Bolivia when a whole school had come down with dysentery. " I'll be fine. Really. I think perhaps it is a touch of the flu. So many of the children at the Center have it. I'm sure I'll be fine by this evening." "Perhaps I should stay with you?" "No! No, you go on. You have work to do. The Pageant meeting this morning and the high school this afternoon. I'll be fine. " "If you are sure. I'll tell Father Matthew you aren't well." "Thank you. Sister. I'll go back to bed now." Isabel went back to her room and carefully hung up the clothes she had laid out. She crawled back into bed and waited quietly until she heard Sister Michael leave about twenty minutes later. Once she was sure Sister Michael would not return for some forgotten item, Isabel jumped out of bed and went to her closet. She picked up her sword and tossed it onto the bed. Pulling on a pair of jeans and a dark green turtleneck sweater, she felt deliciously naughty. Playing hooky was always fun - now- what should she do with her day? She slung the scabbard over her back and settled it on her shoulder. She had always preferred to carry her sword this way, across her back - rather than at her side. The broadsword was long and even with her height it dangled too close to the ground and was hard to draw. Slung across her back, it was out of the way and easy to reach for, the hilt riding at her left shoulder. She was old enough to recognize what her problem was. Part was sheer boredom with her chosen station in life. This had been coming on for a decade - she had known before she arrived that Seattle would be her last posting as a nun. When she finished her work here, she would quit the Order. A second factor was Ray's killing last week. She felt very bad about Ray's death - but at the same time- she couldn't deny that that it sparked something deep inside her. Immortals all had a bit of shark in them, she supposed. Sharks could go into a killing frenzy at the smell of blood. Immortals reacted similarly to the death of one of their own. That was why beheadings tended to come in clusters. One Immortal kills another and all the other Immortals in the area became more aggressive. The added aggression lead to more fights and more beheadings - which in turn fed the aggression of the remaining Immortals. A group of Immortals might live in the same town for years without problem, but once the killings started, often the entire Immortal community - save one - was wiped out. Isabel finished dressing and stood in the living room deciding what to do. She should stay away from the other Immortals in town, that would be safest. But - she didn't feel like being safe today. "Duncan." she thought. "I'll go see Duncan." Decision made, she went out of the apartment and bounded down the stairs. It was still dark and the neighborhood still dangerous but she wasn't worried. No one was going to mess with her today. Not and live to tell about it. It was only 7:30am when Isabel arrived at the dojo. It was open - Duncan always came down and unlocked the door at 7:00 - but empty. She went in and stood quietly. If she concentrated , she could feel MacLeod moving around upstairs. Which meant he could feel her too. The "buzz" worked in mysterious ways, she thought. Inside - sometimes- you could feel another Immortal through several intervening floors. In other buildings, an Immortal might be in the next room before you felt them. Isabel had discovered that she could not feel an Immortal who was in the Youth Center while she was in her apartment. However, she *could* feel an Immortal who was standing on the sidewalk directly in front of outside door. Isabel didn't know whether it had to do with the composition of the building materials, the phase of the moon, the amount of water vapor in the air - hell, for all she knew the type of floor wax used could have an effect. Outside, in the open , she had occasionally felt an Immortal as far away as half a mile. Outside in a town or city, that range was reduced- probably because of deflection by the buildings. She had played "buzz tag" numerous times - two Immortals tracking each other in and out of buildings, around corners, trying to find a way to sneak up on the other. The effective range of the buzz in a city seemed to be 3 or 4 blocks if they were on a direct line of sight, 2 blocks to almost zero if there were buildings in-between. Isabel heard the elevator in front of her come to life and she waited patiently for Duncan's arrival. He came into sight, sword in hand. He relaxed slightly when he saw it was her but he didn't lower his guard totally. She knew he didn't trust her completely, he had sensed her ambivalence on hearing of Ray's death. But she also knew that he didn't *want* to believe she had killed Ray. "Good morning. Isabel. To what do I owe this honor?" He was friendly but there was just a hint of steel in his voice. She was wearing the drover's coat and Duncan had no doubt but that there was a sword under it somewhere. "I'm playing hooky. Bad of me, I know. I realized the other day, when Ray died, that I hadn't really practiced very much lately. I thought - I'll go and see if Duncan wants to do a bit of fencing. So, here I am. What do you say? How about a workout?" Isabel looked ready to go. Maybe too ready, Duncan thought. "Are you sure this is such a good idea?" " It will be fun Duncan. I trust you not to kill me. Don't you trust me?" Ah. There it was. Did he trust her? In the three months he had known her, she had given him no reason *not* to trust her. But - there also had been little opportunity to test her. They had never - except for their first meeting here - been alone together where sword play could have broken out. She was waiting for an answer. "All right. Let me go lock the front door so no one can walk in on us." Duncan walked past her and went out to the outside doors. Isabel shrugged out of the coat and tossed it carelessly onto a nearby bench. Duncan returned in time to see her draw the broadsword over her shoulder and then pull the scabbard over her head. That got tossed too. She moved out onto the center of the dojo floor. She scuffed her boots on the floor, testing it. Very slippery. She flexed her sword arm a few times, feeling the weight of her sword, limbering up. Then she slashed the air in front of her and stood at the ready. They started slowly but quickly picked up the pace. The broadsword was longer than his katana but it was also heavier. Her arms were slightly shorter than his, he was also taller and heavier. For all that, she was very good. He had to work to stay with her. They were both careful not to cut the other but they were coming close. She was obviously more than just competent with a sword. She was certainly better than Richie - though Richie was much improved in the last two years. Richie's travels had put him in conflict with a number of Immortals in the past few years and Richie had taken 3 or 4 heads that Duncan knew of. Richie never bragged about the fights he won - Duncan had raised him better than that- but sometimes the stories came out. In the course of the practice, they both managed to disarm the other several times. Each time, the armed Immortal waited patiently for the unarmed one to pick up his or her sword. By the end of the session, they were both tired, soaking wet and had gained a new respect for each other. " That was great, Duncan. I needed that." " Thank you. It *was* good. Do you want to come up for breakfast?" " No, I think I'll go home, get a shower and hit the streets. I haven't had a totally free day in a long time. I think I'll go downtown and wander around. See what kind of trouble I can get into" "You'll be careful?" Duncan didn't like this mood she seemed to be in. Too eager for action or just throwing caution to the wind - either way it was dangerous. For her and for any Immortal she happened to meet. "I'll be careful. After all, I have to be home for dinner or Sister Michael will call out the cavalry." "Good. I think you could use a keeper." He laughed and she joined in. " You may be right. See you later Duncan. You *are* coming to the Christmas Pageant at St. Thomas - on the 23rd? The kids have been working hard on it. Bring Richie along. You'll get to hear me sing! I was almost thrown out of an Order once because of my voice. Bring some cotton" "I canna wait. I wouldn't miss it." She picked up her scabbard and coat and headed for the door. " Isabel. Be care, please." "Never fear, Duncan. I'm Immortal, remember?" And she was gone. ============== Sarah Lao sat in her car and kept a casual watch on the Youth Center. It was almost 11:00pm on Wednesday night. Grey Buffalo almost always quit working at 11:00. Her car was parked down the block from the Center, his car was parked on the other side of the street, slightly ahead of hers. She could see the lights were on in the apartment above the Center. The human nun had come in around 5:00pm and had not gone out again. Sister Gabriel, the immortal one, had been there until about an hour ago. Sarah had watched her go but hadn't followed. Not her job. The lights started to go out at the Youth Center. Grey Buffalo must be done. Father Matthew had given him a key so that he could work in the evenings after everyone else was gone. Sarah slid down in the car seat. Grey Buffalo came out the front door and turned back to lock it. He turned around and scanned the street. Stepping back, he looked up at the apartment but was met with only shaded windows. Sarah watched as he walked up the street to his car. She was surprised when, instead of getting in the driver's side, he opened the trunk and pulled out a sword. Sarah sat up straight. There must be another Immortal around. Grey Buffalo walked back toward the Center, going cautiously. He walked past the door of the Center and then past the door to the apartment . He arrived at the entrance to the alley along side the Center building. He stepped carefully into the alley entrance and then moved into the alley. Sarah got out of the car and walked quickly across the street to follow. By the time she got to the alley, Grey Buffalo was no where in sight. The Center building had no doors opening onto the alley but the building on the other side of the alley did. She tested the first one. Locked. The second door, more than halfway down the alley, was unlocked. She entered carefully. This was an old warehouse that covered an entire block. Sarah couldn't hear anything in the immediate vicinity so she began to explore. Crossing the entire width of the building she opened a door on the opposite side - another empty alley. She went back into the warehouse and before she had gone far, she heard the lightning roar of a Quickening. It seemed to be coming from the back of the warehouse. The back of the warehouse faced Patton Street. Sarah opened the door cautiously - it was quiet, the Quickening over. Stepping out onto the darkened street but holding the door open, Sarah looked first up the block and then down. Near the corner she could see a body on the ground and bending over it a figure, a woman with shoulder length hair. The woman looked up and her eyes met Sarah's. Sarah ducked back inside the warehouse, reaching for her cellular phone. She dialed Joe's number quickly. Sarah moved further into the dark warehouse. Joe's number rang and rang. Sarah clicked it off and started to dial Horace. Before she could complete the call, a strong hand grabbed her from behind and a blade flashed before her eyes. =========== Duncan got up on Thursday morning and started the coffee. He paced downstairs and opened the front door to the dojo. A few of the members liked to work out early, before heading off to work. He came back upstairs and turned on the TV to see the news as he fixed breakfast. He was only half listening when he heard the news reader start a new story: "Another bizarre killing last night. Only 10 days after the decapitated body of Ray Allan was found in an alley on MacArthur Street, the body of local artist David Grey Buffalo was found on a street corner only two blocks away, on Patton Street. Mr. Grey Buffalo had also been decapitated. Police refuse to speculate as to whether the two killings are related. Sources inside the Police Department say the two killings could be the work of a serial killer. No motive or suspect has been identified in either murder. On a lighter note, the Seattle Seahawks announced yesterday. . ." Duncan clicked the TV off. Grey Buffalo dead. Only two blocks from where Ray died. Right near the Youth Center. Duncan turned the stove off and found his shoes. Grabbing his coat and sword he left the loft. Fifteen minutes later he was at St. Thomas'. He could feel Isabel inside as he approached. Coming into the church, he could see her . She was lying on the floor in front of the altar, legs straight and together, arms outstretched in a cross, forehead flat to the floor. It was cold in the church and he wondered how long she had been prostrate like that. At least the floor wasn't stone. "Isabel? Sister Gabriel." She didn't move or indicate that she had heard him. "Isabel!" Still no response. He walked down the aisle and squatted down next to her. He reached out and grabbed her shoulder, shaking it. She looked up then, eyes red and tear-stained. "You heard?" "Yes, as soon as I got up this morning. Oh, Duncan. He wasn't a fighter, he was an artist. He had a wife up the Coast , two kids he was raising. He wasn't hurting anyone." "Where were you last night? Did you feel anyone around? See anyone?" "No, I was home all night. I didn't see anything." She had sounded honestly saddened before, now she sounded defensive and Duncan wondered why. She noticed the change in his expression as he thought about it. "I *didn't* kill him! I saw you in the morning, I went downtown for a while - went to the art museum, then I came home. I didn't see whoever killed him. I swear it." "OK, Isabel , if you say so. But someone is headhunting. And it isn't me and it isn't Richie. So - if it isn't you - who would you suggest?" "I don't know! It wasn't me! " Again Duncan was struck by the feeling she was hiding something. He didn't believe she had killed Grey Buffalo - if for no other reason than she was too smart to leave two bodies laying around so close to her apartment. Too smart to take a chance on being seen and recognized by someone in the neighborhood. But - what *was* she hiding? She had been in a strange mood yesterday morning - if she had run into Grey Buffalo while still in such a fey temper - could she have killed him? Something that started out harmlessly and got carried too far? Duncan didn't know her well enough to know. He hoped she was telling the truth. If she had killed the two men - and could act so convincingly innocent, so broken up by the deaths, then she was a dangerous psychopath. Duncan didn't want to think about what that could mean. "All right, Isabel. I didn't mean to accuse you. But something is going on, and I intend to find out what." Duncan straightened up and she turned her face back to the floor, shutting him out. He walked out of the church wondering what to do next. ================= End Part 7