========================================================================= Date: Sat, 20 Apr 1996 11:04:16 -0400 Reply-To: Jill Marie Spetoskey Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Jill Marie Spetoskey Subject: Mortals 10/14 (fwd) ---------- Forwarded message ---------- From: k s gritten Subject: Mortals 10/14 Mortals 10/14 Nick parked his car in front of the Raven with an abruptness that would have made him wince at the grinding of the breaks had he been less distracted. Over twenty-four hours had passed since Lisa McKenzie had taken Joe Dawson and Natalie, and they were no closer to finding any of them. Tracy was back at the hotel where the McKenzies had been staying, looking for some clue as to Lisa's whereabouts. Nick had returned to the Raven, hoping that Lisa would seek out the last place where her husband had been seen alive. "My dear Detective Knight--any luck in finding your missing friends?" Carmen had appeared next to his car, her bright red dress contrasting shockingly with Vachon's habitual black garb. The younger male vampire stood in the shadows behind Carmen, away from the range of her extravagant gestures, but giving her a tolerant smile. "What are you doing here?" Nick asked wearily. "Tracy told us what happened," Vachon began, but Carmen interjected. "I am sorry, my dear Nicholas. I cannot help but feel responsible for your friend's predicament. Still, how was I to know that the silly human would have a mad wife? It's so...gothic!" She flung out her arm in a gesture of contempt. "Anyway, I have persuaded Vachon to help me search for your friend." Nick glared at Vachon, who merely shrugged, but further comment was cut off by the ringing of Nick's cellular phone. "Knight," he answered. "Vampire." Nick was struck with dread and anticipation--he recognized Lisa McKenzie's voice from her confrontation with Dawson at the police station. "What do you want McKenzie?" he growled. How did she know that he was a vampire? Had Nat told her? "I want you, Vampire. I want you to make me one of your kind." Was he surprised? Not really. Still, it was worse than he had feared. "It won't do any good. Your husband is gone. Nothing can change that." "I know that, Vampire," she spat. "I can't bring him back. I can avenge him, though." "Why shouldn't I just kill you?" His tone was low, dangerous. "Because then your friends will die. You won't ever find them, and they'll starve to death." He was silent for a moment, thinking. "What do you want to do?" "Meet me in Room 125 of the Ridge Motel in an hour. Come alone. If you don't, I'll know, and I'll leave your friends to die." The words sounded hollow to his ears. "I'll be there." He hung up the phone and looked at his two companions grimly. They had heard every word, naturally. "Great," Nick muttered. "Just great." ***** "Popcorn. With lots of butter." Why on earth were they talking about food, tormenting themselves? Natalie knew that they could survive for some time without food, but that had not made the rumblings of their stomachs any easier to bear. She did not even want to think about how long they would last without water. "Real butter?" "Oh yeah. And salt sometimes too." "Gee Doc, you'd think a coroner would know better." Beside her, Joe's tone was amused but raspy. She had moved across the room to sit next to him, so that they would not have to tax their voices any more than necessary. Never had she missed the terrible sludge they passed off as coffee in the morgue more. She laughed suddenly, Joe's comment triggering a memory. "What?" he asked. "Richie started calling me 'Doc' after I told him that I was a coroner. He said he was going to make me his personal physician." Joe chuckled. They sat in companionable silence, for a moment. "Why did you become a coroner?" "We can't all be Watchers," she answered glibly. "True. We're a select group." He didn't push her, but she answered anyway. "I had a lousy bedside manner." It sounded trite, but it was more true than she normally cared to admit. "I was a good scientist, a good doctor. But I never got along that well with people. Even when I was growing up...." she trailed off, unwilling to dredge up the memories of childhood. How many times had she considered inviting a schoolmate home, only to fear the close contact, the prying eyes that would see beyond her grandmother's kind exterior to hear her harsh words? How many times had she heard the same biting, devastating tone coming from her own mouth? "...I didn't have a lot of friends. When it came time to choose my specialty--I went into forensic medicine. And wound up here." Literally, she thought. 'If I hadn't become a coroner, I wouldn't have met Nick. If I hadn't met Nick, I wouldn't have ended up here.' "Do you regret it?" Was he reading her mind, or her tone? "No," she said softly. "I don't regret it. Not any of it." "Good," he said, surprising her. "Life's too short for regrets." She thought about that for a long time in the dark.