Doubled Edge 5/10

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Doubled Edge by Katt Solano
Disclaimers & furhter hoopla in part 0
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Present day
Glenfinnan, Scotland...

Methos wasn't aware of it, but he had the balanced rhythms of a bard. Duncan
had been as rapt in the tale when he re-told it for the Ichor Born's
benefit. Apparently, Devaki wasn't immune either; her eyes had taken on a
far away look, lost in the world that Methos had woven. He knew the look of
a historian.

"And?" Kala asked when the fine English voice stopped.

"And nothing." Methos threw back the final drops of his drink. "Five minutes
later, the gigantor threw his friend over his shoulder and walked out the
door. I was going to follow them out but Faruq called me into the next room.
There were no sign of them by the time I finished. You know," he tapped his
chin thoughtfully, "I think maybe that woman was a Caelum. Taller than
average, really pale skin and eyes, didn't seem to be afraid of fighting
without any weapons--like she wouldn't be affected anyway."

"But her companions." Duncan's brows wrinkled, bewildered. "That tall guy
sounds more like one of the Ichor Born. The two other guys..."

"I can vouch that the one who got the axe blade in his leg was probably
human," said Methos, "I don't know about the talkative one."

Devaki chewed on her lip for a moment. "I've never heard of Caelum leaving
their collective; I don't think it's possible. And even I hardly think that
they would join the any of the Core groups."

"Why not?" Cerny said, "If one were to defect, where better to seek
protection or gain power than with the Cores? They are well-trained and
loyal to each other."

But Devaki was already shaking her head in the middle of his speech. "The
Caelum are like bees, fanatically devoted to their cause," she said, "From
what we can gather, their powers are tied to the group; the farther a single
Caelum is from its troupe, the weaker it gets.

"Added, too, are the difficulties of being one of the Cores. I do not know
how one enters Xeno Core or any of the other Cores but it would take a very
desperate or very determined person indeed. Not a single person from the any
of the Cores has left in all the documented history of the Ichor Born. And
we are _very_ meticulous in our histories, Mr. Pierson," she insisted to
Methos who had crossed his arms, looking doubtful, "Anyone who betrays the
Cores is terminated quickly. All his aliases are erased, all his properties
redistributed and anyone he may have had contact with who would aid his
escape disappears."

"Great," Methos said as he stuck his hands roughly in his pockets, "A
super-powered mafia."

Duncan, sensing that his next question was possibly a touchy one, plunged
into it anyway, desperate for information. "Have any Ichor Born defected?"

The corner of Cerny's eye ticked, telling the two Immortals that, yes, it
_was_ a sensitive topic.

Devaki cleared her throat and said, "It is extremely rare."

"But not unheard of," ended Duncan.

Devaki shook her head. "We do not speak of it," Kala said, "It is the
ultimate betrayal, to leave the family. It is equal to... to one of you
Immortals beheading a close friend without any provocation on Holy Ground."

They stood in silence, collecting their thoughts and attempting to piece
together the puzzle that the Pearl had set upon them.

"I'm going to visit Rachel," Duncan said finally, "She'd know if Connor is
still here." Methos read between the lines: And the Highlander wouldn't have
to chance that his kinsman's home would be revealed to strangers.

"We've been here before," Methos said, holding a hand out to block Duncan's
path, "And you weren't on your best behaviour. It'd be better if we let them
visit your kinswoman." He crooked his head slightly in Kala's direction.

"No." Duncan's tone was firm, implacable. "I'll won't endanger her with
this."

"You'll endanger her anyway." Methos tried to go for an understanding,
soothing mode. "If you let Devaki and her friends go, no one will tie them
to you."

Duncan tried to outstare Methos. The elder Immortal sneered mentally. As if
this child had will and gumption enough defeat a five thousand year-old
Immortal that was _positively_ right.

"All right," Duncan relented grudgingly, "He used the name Russell Nash here
when I talked to him last. Say you're in antiques or a historical society or
something. And if you--" he gave them the Highlander glare, patented circa
1542, concentrated especially on Cerny "--ever use this information against
him, I swear I will--"

"Give them a harsh fonging, I'm sure." Methos rolled his eyes. "If you two
are finished flexing?"

"Devaki, come with me." Kala moved back towards their rented car, intending
to retrieve some props for their short roles.

"I'll stay here and hold the fort." He gave Cerny and Duncan a trademark
smirk. "Any of you know how to play bridge?"

*  *  *  *  *

Hilo, Hawaii...

Shoving a threadbare baseball cap on his head, Tyce Beauregard wove his way
around the food court of the mall. His eye was trained on his target, a
woman with café latte skin and glistening black hair braided into two low
pigtails. Her dark glasses, brightly patterned tank top and cropped shorts
made it difficult to guess if she was a native or a discerning tourist. It
also made it incredibly difficult to guess her age.

Still keeping her in his sights, Tyce ambled into an electronics store,
pretending to study the latest computer games. Through the display, he
watched her stop before a kiosk full of coral and shell jewellery-- the
usual tourist fodder-- and root around. She bargained with the old woman at
the till for a few minutes before coming away with a small plastic bag and a
satisfied smirk.

Just as Tyce left the store, a white necklace slipped out of the thin bag.
Quickly, before the woman could slip away or the necklace get picked up by
anyone else, Tyce darted in and snatched the trinket. It was actually quite
pretty. The pendant was carved from a dark purple shell, probably spotted.
The artist had taken advantage of one of the larger spots to carve a symbol:
a circle surrounded by five triangles to make a star-like shape. Tyce
grinned.

He had her.

"Excuse me, miss," he said a bit breathless from running. The woman jerked
to a halt, looking up just slightly, her lip tugging downward at a slight
frown.

"Yes?"

"You dropped this." He showed her the necklace, keeping a hold of the
pendant so that his index and middle finger covered the design.

"Oh, thanks. The heat must be melting the plastic bag." She smiled slightly
and took the necklace by the two ends. "Maybe I should just wear it to keep
it safe."

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Tyce cocked his head to one side and
said, "If you want really nice stuff, I know a good artist. Lives at the
beach, gathers his own shells. Gorgeous work. You do look nice in it."

"Thanks." Her smirk grew into a full-blown smile. "For the compliment and
the advice. Maybe I'll take you up on it. What's the store's name?"

"White Sand. It'll be open until six tonight but he takes a two hour break
at eleven." He licked his lips, keeping his shuffle to a minimum. "If you
want, I could grab you some lunch before we go check it out."

The woman stared at him through her shades, making Tyce wish she'd take them
off. The smile stayed, becoming smaller but no less blinding. "I suppose I'm
up for a snack."

"Brilliant." Gallantly, he took her larger purchases then held out his free
arm for her to lead him to her car.

As soon as they reached her car-- a nondescript almost-beater-- she lowered
her shades a fraction and said, "You know, most people would say that you're
out to rape me or rob me."

"Or both," Tyce agreed cheerfully, "You shouldn't trust just anyone one you
meet on the street you know."

"And how do I know I should trust you?" she inquired as soon as she had
tucked her bags into the trunk.

"Because I'm a charming son of a gun." He grinned and batted his eyelashes
to show just how charming he could be.

The woman laughed. "You're good."

Tyce made a shallow bow form the waist. They said nothing more until they
reached his car. "So, am I going to get screamed at or kneed hard enough to
choke on my balls?"

"Neither," said the woman with a Cheshire grin, "I'm a rookie, Jetblayd. I
just deliver messages."

"Blackbird, sweetheart, sometimes that _is_ the message." He kissed her
hand. "Honestly, though, I was expecting Rydr to come down here with a very
big pointy object and test out how vulnerable mutant necks are."

"He was about to," Blackbird said in a deadpan voice as she slipped into the
passenger seat, "But between Paladin and Leviathan pinning him down and your
sister holding a bowie knife at his throat, we managed to keep him home."

"Then the newbies all drew straws?"

"Something like that." They were just pulling out of the main road into a
winding one-laner. Blackbird tilted her head back and stuck an arm out to
catch the warm breeze. 'I've always wanted to vacation here."

"Highly over-rated," Jetblayd said, keeping a lookout for stray dogs or
kids. "Too many people in thongs who have no business being in thongs. Sand
gets everywhere. No respect for personal space-- did you know this lady
groped my groin yesterday? Ugh! She was old enough to be my mother!"

"Gosh, don't bother to white-wash it for me." Undaunted, the Underground's
messenger basked in the warmth. "Trust me, after New York, the mobs in this
place are nothing."

"But at least in New York, the tourists don't think that obnoxiously loud
clothing is de rigeur." Jetblayd made a face. 'And you don't see bare asses
flapping in the wind every time you turn your head."

Blackbird laughed. "What? A DeMí not liking the sun, fun, and scandalously
available sex?"

The young man visibly shuddered. "I like to think that I have more
discerning taste that either my brother or my sister, thank you." Then a
smile worked its way to his face as he fondly recalled his siblings. "Yntenz
is so repressed with everything else that she needs to let loose any way she
wants but Hazzard just flirts with anything that moves." When Blackbird
tried to choke down a chuckle, Jetblayd asked, "Why? Hasn't he come on to
you yet?"

"Several times," replied Blackbird, "Usually during practice."

"In front of that great bat-winged behemoth, Paladin?" Jetblayd whistled
when she coloured and nodded. "That mind-wipe must have affected him worse
than we thought." He pulled into a swath of grass in the sand and parked the
car. Then, in keeping with their roles as boy-meets-girl, he opened
Blackbird's door and twined their hands together as they trudged closer to
the water. "I hope you know I'm risking my life just doing this." He
squeezed her hand.

In response, Blackbird ducked her head away. "Yeah, well, he knows it's just
part of the operation."

"His logical mind knows it," Jetblayd agreed, "but however intellectual he
is, that puny seven pound brain is nothing compared to the seven hundred
pounds of testosterone-laced muscle in the rest of his body."

"Look, are we going to talk about the operation or my personal life here?"
Blackbird's voice was getting on the rough side of irritated.

Jetblayd backed off immediately. "Business it is, then, m'lady. What've you
got for me?"

"Two personal notes and some specs." She waited for his signal to continue.
It wasn't so much a movement as it was a change in his personality. For a
moment, the disguise slipped: his head tilted slightly to the left and
Blackbird could see the inhuman click-click-click of a computer-like brain
settling itself to task. His hazel eyes seemed to go cold, the circuitry
behind the irises nearly visible. Then Jetblayd put Tyce Beauregard back in
place.

"Personal notes first," he decided.

"Darcfyr says not to let your guard down at all with Connor MacLeod."
Blackbird tucked a loose strand of ebony behind her ear and looked up at the
younger operative in what she hoped was an infatuated gaze. "Apparently,
he's a pretty smart SOB for his age."

"He _has_ taken the Kurgan and Kane." He drew her hand up for another kiss
but his eyes were still focused inward, processing information. "Second
personal?"

"More like advice." She nudged him slightly towards the water, letting their
feet get wet. "Cheat wants you to finish this up ASAP. He says the longer
you stay out here, the more Rydr's going to fume. Last time I saw him, he
was in the Playground dismembering holographic projections of your entire
family."

The tick at the corner of Jetblayd's eye was probably the closest he let
himself to a wince. "A bit of a waste considering he saved my life on the
last operation. Some day, I'm going to drag one of those Roman Catholic
priests to his room and exorcise something."

"You and all nine factions of the Core Warriors," scoffed Blackbird, "I've
seen denial, 'Blayd, and your pseudo-Scottish friend is still working
through a seven-course order of it."

Jetblayd nodded, acquiescing to the observation. "And the specs?"

Blackbird pursed her lips but said nothing, leading him towards a bluff that
could hide them a bit from any stray eyes. As he settled down on the sand,
she inched a bit closer, enough so that whispers wouldn't carry. "Mac the
Younger and Pierson are still in Scotland like we thought they'd be but so
are the Ichor Born."

Jetblayd bit down on the tip of his lip. "That's expected. We didn't think
they'd follow until Marrakech though."

Blackbird shrugged. "That just means the operations going to end faster than
we thought. That cue ball needs to get to Mac the Elder if we want to get
all the juicy parts out of it. Remind me again why we couldn't just ask the
Ichors for this information?"

"Secret societies are too paranoid. We'd owe them something." Jetblayd
grinned. "The Underground hates being in the red."

"Apparently, they're with some people called Kala, Devaki, and Cerny." She
saw the tick increase in pace. "Know them?"

"Two of them by reputation only," said Jetblayd, "They're big guns: Kala's
head of that sector and Devaki knows Ichor history backwards. Cerny--" he
paused to study a hangnail on his thumb "-- had a brother that we had to
kill. Unfortunately, he saw us. He's not too pleased with anything to do
with the Aerie."

"Natch." Blackbird let her gaze float over the blue waves. "In any case,
they think that they'll be here within the week. You need to get to phase
four yesterday."

"Consider it yesterday." He grinned, slowly and sweetly, and Blackbird
understood why the brothers DeMí were on the screensavers of a lot of the
techies. "His kid already loves me. Getting him away from the house is going
to be easier than downing a batch of cinnamon buns."


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