Date: Tue, 21 Feb 1995 20:32:40 -0700 Reply-To: Greg Palmer Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Greg Palmer Subject: "Birth's Blood" Part 2 of 2 *** Here's part 2... comments to: gpalmer@xroads.com *** "Birth's Blood" Part II by Greg Palmer Copyright (C) 1995 PARIS, September 1994 Blood! *Why was it always blood?* And this time; not my own. It covered the wall and our bed; in bright red patterns like as if the Devil had been fingerpainting. I dropped to my knees in some instinctual gesture, some plea to an unknown higher power. :Please let my Yvette be all right, please!: The groceries dropped to the floor, the bottle of wine breaking on the hard floor. The smell of that wine and the smell of her blood... Her body was behind the bed, wedged between it and the wall. From the doorway, all I could see was her hand, reaching over the edge, still gripping the sheet in a death reflex. I could see the emerald ring I gave her, the small jewel glinting in the light of the candles on the mantel. It reminded me of the diamond ring I bought earlier that day, to give to her tonight along with my marriage proposal. I didn't want to look at her that way; *dead*. "DEAD!" I screamed. "DEAD, DEAD, DEAD!" The next thing I knew I was there, holding her, holding her to my chest. My tears were acid in my eyes. They dripped off my cheeks and onto her face, diluting the blood there and causing it to run in streaks. As I gently lifted her body and lowered it onto the bed, I saw a note pinned to Yvette's blouse. I ripped it away and read it, already knowing what to expect. ************ Gregory, A pity about your woman. She should have had better taste in lovers. Not to worry, you shall soon join her in death. M. ************ :Bastard!: "YOU BASTARD!" I shouted into the empty room. I think I was insane, then. I slammed my fists into the brick wall, over and over and over, until I heard the bones there crack and splinter. I heard it, but didn't feel it. The pain was nothing, nothing at all. Exhausted, I collapsed to the floor next to the bed, next to *her*, clutching my broken hands to my body. Then, the bones started to *move* and I raised my hands to my face in shock. The bones *were* moving; popping and fusing as if they had a life of their own. I could only watch as my bones healed, and the gashes in my knuckles closed. I broke them again. And again. ************** I don't know how long I lay there, the sobs wracking my body. Eventually, I was still, although the tears still ran. I stood and looked at the room one more time, and removed the emerald ring from her cold hand. I slipped it on my little finger. :To remember.: I wandered the streets for hours, until I found myself back at the barge, the one for sale. I threw the engagement ring into the Seine. Then, I turned my back to the river and walked on. I wound up at a bar where I drank glass after glass of Scotch. I drank until the pain faded in favor of the drunkenness. The pain was still there, though, always there. I tried to make it to a hotel, but I wound up sleeping on a bench in a small park. When I woke, I was suprised to find the ring was still on my hand, and my wallet still in my pocket. Now, the pain of Yvette's murder wasn't as sharp, it had transmuted into a dull throbbing ache; a thousand times worse. However, it allowed me to think clearer, despite my huge hangover. In an instant, I'd come to a conclusion on my next course of action... Revenge. It was all I cared about, I realized. Killing the monster who killed my Yvette. :How to find him?: But he'll find you, a voice in my mind answered. It sounded like *him*. I knew one thing, though: The confrontation would not be in Paris. Yvette and I had spent one happy year there, but now she was gone forever; and the city just reminded me of that. ************ When I got to Orly airport, I bought a ticket for the next flight back to the States; home. I wanted to leave France as soon as possible, and the next flight was to Seattle. That was fine with me; it didn't matter where I was going, so long as it was away from Paris and the memories. SEATTLE, September 1994-Feburary 1995 When I arrived in Seattle, it was raining hard. I caught a cab from the airport to a nearby motel, just to have a quiet place to think... and plot. There wasn't much I could do. I had no idea how to find the murderer, and he obviously was quite adept at finding me. Who knew how long he had been watching us before he killed Yvette? Yvette... I forced the pain back down into my heart, for later. I needed to save it so I could feel it all at once, when I killed the murdering son of a bitch. ********** I wandered the streets constantly, just waiting to feel those same sensations that signaled his approach; but also to kill time. I must have walked down every street and alley in Seattle in the three months I searched for him. Occasionally, I could feel a *presence*, but not for very long, and I never located the source. These encounters gave me new hope, but still I pictured myself an old man, forever wandering the streets. I marked the locations of the places I felt the presence on a dirty and creased city map I kept in my pocket. There didn't seem to be any pattern; I would feel him close one day and come back the next to feel nothing. Almost ready to give it up, I sat on a park bench, eating a hot dog I bought from a man with a cart on the sidewalk. And then, I *felt* it again! I almost choked on the bite of hot dog as I jumped up from the bench, scanning the area for the trenchcoat-wearing fiend. Motion at a window across the street caught my eye. I couldn't see the face, but I recognized the build. It was him! I bolted across the street, unmindful of the blaring horns. Throwing open the door marked "DeSalvo's Martial Arts" I ran inside. Not finding any stairs, I got on the old-fashioned lift and pressed the button for the second floor. At last, the time of revenge was at hand! Just as I realized I had no weapons, the lift reached the second floor. The place was dark except for a dim light at the window. I hunted for a lightswitch. Something hard hit me in the back of the head and I went down like a sack of rocks. Gasping with pain, I rolled out of the way just as the sword came down and took a chunk out of the floor. Shit! I'd been tricked so easily. He put his boot on the back of my neck and reached for a lamp. He flicked it on. I heard his indrawn breath. "You! I was waiting for the one they call Richie!" He thought about it for a moment. "But, you'll do just as well." He laughed. "Two for the price of one." He released the pressure from my neck, leaned down and yanked me to my knees, seemingly without effort. "Prepare to die," he said, raising the large sword above his head. "There Can Be Only One!" I knelt there in shock, the blood running down my face from the repeated head blows I'd suffered, from fist and sword hilt. "Fucking bastard. I'll see you in hell." He lowered his sword, but only slightly. "Tell the Devil Malik sends his regards, cub. No more talking; now, my steel will take your head. Our Game ends now; you can go to join your pretty woman. And to think; you never knew what this is all about!" He laughed the same way he had in the restaurant. I closed my eyes, preparing to meet my Yvette. A sense of peace came over me as I surrendered to the realization we would soon be together again. I traced the patterns of her emerald ring with my thumb as I waited for the death strike. I heard the sounds of the elevator! "MALIK!" the powerful, angry, and suprised voice exclaimed. I was shoved to the floor again, banging my chin. "My fight is not with you! I came for the boy." He sounded *scared*. Who *was* that? Richie? DeSalvo? The voice turned sarcastic. "Then what are you doing in my apartment, Malik?" "I was just leaving, MacLeod." He kicked me in the ribs. Then, I felt a whispering in my ear. "See you around, kid." I heard the noisy lift again. ************ A hand shaking my arm. "Get up." I groaned, and using the counter for support, I managed to attain a wobbly stance. I tried to get a look at the guy, but all I could see was a blur. "You *know* that bastard?" I asked, preparing to get beat up and killed. "Yeah, but he's no friend of mine. I'm--" "Richie MacLeod?" I guessed. He laughed, "No, it's Duncan, actually," he said, "Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. Richie'll be along soon." He didn't *sound* Scottish. "Greg Parker. Um, of Phoenix." He thought to himself..."Your last name isn't really Palmer by any chance, is it?" I didn't see any point in lying to the guy, seeing as he'd just saved my life. "Yeah, but how--" He shrugged. "I know someone who keeps track of things. Of people. People, especially like you, me, and our friend Malik." "Wha--" "You don't know the first thing about what you are, do you? Here, sit." He led me to the couch and I sat down. "You and I are Immortals. We can't die; that is, unless someone takes our heads. That's what the swords are for. There'll always be headhunters like Malik after you, unless you learn to fight back: with a sword," He went over to the wall and took down an oriental-looking sword, "like this." As crazy as it sounded, I believed him. All the events of the past two years were starting to come together: the accident, the incident in my apartment with Malik, my broken hands healing. "Will you teach me, Mr. MacLeod? Teach me how to use a sword?" Everything seemed to be coming together. I imagined myself fighting Malik with the oriental sword, then chopping off his head. Revenge. "Yvette..." He put his hand on my shoulder. He seemed to be remembering something, his eyes were far away. "I know... It gets better though, trust me. I'll Teach you. But first, there are some things you need to know about being Immortal. The Rules." I looked at him. "Code of conduct, that sort of thing. There aren't many. C'mon, let's go down to the dojo and I'll explain it all to you." I got up and followed him to the lift. "Hey, MacLeod. Did you ever live on a barge? In Paris?" The end (...to be continued in "Life's Blood"...written in the third person...) -Greg Palmer ------------------------------------------------ E-Mail: gpalmer@xroads.com WWW: http://www.xroads.com/pages/gpalmer/gpalmer.html =========================================================================