========================================================================= Date: Thu, 18 Apr 1996 23:12:42 -0400 Reply-To: Jill Marie Spetoskey Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Jill Marie Spetoskey Subject: Mortals 4/14 (fwd) ---------- Forwarded message ---------- Date: Wed, 17 Apr 1996 17:16:28 -0400 From: k s gritten To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Mortals 4/14 Mortals 4/14 "Thanks for giving me a lift, Richie," Tracy Vetter said as she swung off the back of his motorcycle in front of the garage where her newly-repaired car was awaiting her. "Are you sure there's not anything that I can do to help you find your friend?" Richie considered for a moment, then remembered that there was one piece of information that he needed in his search for McKenzie. "Actually, there is something that you can do. Have you ever heard of a club called the Raven?" He was surprised when Tracy's pleasant expression became guarded. "The Raven?" she asked. "Why do you want to go there?" Richie thought back to what Joe had told him on the phone earlier. One of the other Watchers had reported that McKenzie had been asking about the club. "I think that's where my friend might be." Tracy, her face clouded, said, "I know where it is, but I better go with you. The Raven's got a tough crowd." Richie smiled. "I can take care of myself." 'As long as they don't try to take my head,' he added silently, 'I don't have anything to worry about.' Tracy shook her head firmly. "You may be able to take care of yourself, but I'm going with you anyway." ***** The interior of the Raven was dark, crowded with figures that seemed not to walk so much as glide across the floor. Richie watched the beautiful blonde dancer on the main stage for a moment, then turned to follow Tracy through the throng towards the bar. "Have you seen Vachon?" he heard her ask the bartender. A man materialized next to them, making Richie jump. What was it with the people in Toronto? "Hey Trace," the newcomer said quietly, his voice pitched so low that Richie could barely hear it. "What are you doing here? Working on a case?" The man--tall, dark, long-haired and good-looking--spared Richie a glance, but concentrated on the young blonde cop. "Sort of," Tracy answered. "Richie, this is Vachon." "Let me guess," he said, "the friend with the bike, right?" At Tracy's answering nod, Richie grinned. "Vachon, Richie's looking for a friend of his who might be here." Vachon grinned at Tracy and asked, in a tone that Richie did not quite understand but which seemed heavy with some private amusement. "What kind of friend?" "Just a regular guy," Tracy said with emphasis. Vachon shrugged. "Ask Urs. Her set is done." The beautiful blonde dancer moved towards them, and Richie was thrilled to discover that this was the Urs to whom Vachon was referring. She even walked seductively, despite her almost childlike innocent face. "Urs," Vachon said, "our friend here is looking for someone." Richie described McKenzie to her. "He's about thirty, with brown hair, five foot ten, last seen wearing jeans and a green sweater. He's got a limp." McKenzie had been in a car accident the month before, and still had not completely recovered. Urs pursed her lips for a moment. "I'm not sure, but I think that the guy you're talking about left just a few minutes ago." She looked at Vachon, some message passing between them. "He left with Carmen." "Are you sure?" Vachon asked as Richie and Tracy asked simultaneously, "Who's Carmen?" Urs nodded, answering Vachon's question. "You might still be able to catch them." Vachon pulled Tracy towards the door, with Richie following. Outside, Vachon said to Tracy, "I'll see if I can still find them,' and disappeared, leaving Richie looking at Tracy, confused. "What's going on?" he asked. "I told you that the Raven had a rough crowd. Apparently your friend McKenzie got involved with some people that he shouldn't have." Just as Richie began to wonder what he had gotten himself into, Vachon reappeared. "Are you on duty yet Trace?" he asked the woman. "I guess so," she answered, uncertain. "Why?" "I found the guy you were looking for."