Immortal Cascade 10 Immortal Phoenix
Page 4
"But my presence is only hurting Blair, is only making things worse. Mulder and Dana need my help in DC, and both Megan and Lobo have made it clear to me they think I can do more good there than here. But the man who shot Megan is still out there, and they're all in danger. I just... ." She blinked back tears and pounded her fist on the steering wheel in frustration.
"Diandra," Duncan's voice was gentle and sympathetic, "don't worry. I'll drive down and play bodyguard while you're gone. I'll get Joe to look out for Megan. It's gonna be okay."
"Thank you, thank you. I owe you a big one," she breathed, relief evident in her tone. "I'm heading for the airport now; I'll call you when I get to DC. Can you come down tonight?"
"Sure, I'll call Joe and we'll head down there right now. You'll make arrangements at the hospital?"
"I'll make sure Joe's allowed in. You just stick to Blair, okay?"
"Like glue. Don't worry, Dee, I know what he means to you. I promise to keep him safe."
"Thank you, Duncan." She clicked the phone off and pulled back onto the road. At least she felt a little better about leaving now, knowing her loved ones' safety was in good hands.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Blair lay curled up in a ball on his bed, needing to cry, to scream at the gross unfairness of the world, but unable to manage anything more than a few dry sobs. There was an agonizing pain in his gut he knew from experience was strictly emotional, but it made him nauseous anyway. He was so fucked--they all were, Jim, Megan, Simon, Dee--all because he couldn't imagine someone ever really having enough interest in his dissertation to read it, let alone believe it. How in the world could he have been so stupid? Hadn't Lee Brackett, hadn't Alex Barnes taught him anything? Jim had blamed himself for Simon and Megan's injuries when he'd spoken to him at the hospital, but Blair knew the fault was all his. His friends, his soulmate, his lover, had all paid the price for his naiveté.
Clutching a pillow to his chest, he buried his face in it, momentarily tempted to see if it was possible to smother oneself. When his lungs began to burn, he tossed the pillow on the floor and rolled onto his stomach, resting his chin on his hands as he stared at the wall. The argument with Dee replayed in his mind, not because it was the greatest of his mistakes, but because it was the most recent, and the one he'd had it in his power to avoid. Her words from that morning echoed in his head. "... You come first, always." That had been all she wanted, to be there for him, to offer advice if he asked for it, to support him if he didn't. And he'd pushed her away, not because of anything she'd done, but because at the moment he hated himself so thoroughly he couldn't deal with the thought that someone loved him that much.
A lone tear slid down his cheek and he wiped it away angrily. He didn't have time for this, he had to figure something out, he had to fix what was happening to Jim, if nothing else. Grabbing a notebook and a pen, he began to write, the words coming in stops and starts, each sentence cutting a little piece out of his heart, but he knew it was what he had to do. When he finished, he closed the notebook, intending to type it up in the morning, and turned off the light. Lying down on his back, Blair stared out the window, up at the stars, feeling the tension and fear leave him now that he had actually taken action. Closing his eyes, he remembered the sensation of Dee's arms around him from the night before, and he tentatively reached out through their bond, feeling her love surround him the way it always did. With a blissful sigh, he snuggled under the covers, believing now that everything would turn out all right.
Upstairs, Jim quit tossing and turning and finally drifted off to sleep.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Phoenix stretched and yawned, wriggling in the overstuffed armchair that had been her ringside seat for that evening's show. Though her death and rebirth had not been pleasant, they had given her back her sanity and her control. She'd easily tracked the players' movements in and out of the apartment building across the street, eavesdropping on their conversations, and pondering her next move.
Pallas was gone and Connor was in the hospital, leaving Ellison and Sandburg unprotected, blinded by the media chaos and not expecting an attack from her quarter. That had not been part of her original plan, but she was flexible, though she would have felt better if Pallas was somewhere she could keep an eye on her, if not remove her from the playing field altogether. To deal with the Sentinel, she would take out Sandburg first. He was the key to Ellison's power. Kill the Guide, cripple the warrior.
The sound of a car approaching turned the Phoenix's attention to the window again. A classic black Thunderbird convertible pulled into the last parking space in the lot. A jolt of electricity slid down her spine, and the siren song of another Immortal sang in her head. Damn! She'd known her base of operations was right on the edge of immortal warning systems, but Diandra hadn't detected her. Of course, she'd had other things on her mind.
The tall dark figure climbing out of the car glanced around, then shrugged. He crossed to number 852 and went inside. She'd gotten a good look at him, though, and recognized him as Duncan MacLeod. Odds were this was Pallas' doing. If the Highlander was going to stick around, she needed a new plan. Facing Diandra in battle didn't frighten her at all; the Phoenix knew the older Immortal could never kill her. But MacLeod was another story. She had no desire, nor the talent, to face him. Resting her chin on her hand, she decided to wait and see what happened. Well informed was well armed. After all, she was in no rush, and she'd promised Juan she would take her time with their deaths. A self-satisfied smile parted her lips.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shivering, Diandra pulled the thin blanket over herself and tried to get comfortable on the cold leather couch in the cabin of the private jet she'd hired to fly her to Washington, DC. If Blair wanted her out of Cascade, she was going to get as far away as quickly as she could. Rolling onto her back, she cursed the too short loveseat. Memories of curling around Blair's warm body the night before flooded her mind. Pressing her hands over her eyes, she fought back tears, then figured what the hell, and let them flow silently down her cheeks.
She hadn't felt this--this helpless in centuries. Not since Lydia had died in her arms. She'd spent nearly a thousand years learning to control her Quickening, to project her life energy from herself to another, and then spent a thousand years more learning how to use it to heal, all because she'd been afraid of what happened to Lydia happening to another person she loved. And despite her best efforts, she hadn't been able to prevent Megan from being hurt, neither had she been able to help her heal. The hospital might afford her companion some measure of safety, but Blair was in danger, terrible danger. She could sense it in her gut, a gnawing ache that grew as the distance between them increased.
Wiping at her eyes, she sent a silent prayer to her goddess to keep them both safe, to give Duncan the strength and skill and luck necessary to protect them. As for Ellison, as far as she was concerned, he was on his own. Not that she wished anything to happen to him, but her anger at him had not dimmed. Her parting words to him on the stairs hadn't come close to expressing her outrage at his treatment of his guide. He had most certainly not heard the last from her. Closing her eyes, she began to plan what she would say to him when she called him after her arrival in DC. It was better than counting sheep; Diandra was asleep within moments.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sound of someone pounding on the front door woke Ellison. Rolling out of bed, he grabbed his weapon from the nightstand, and headed down the stairs just in time to see his partner exit his room, muttering under his breath.
"Okay, okay, I'm coming. Whatever it is had better be damn important!"
Jim watched from the shadows on the stairway as Blair took a quick look through the peephole then hastily undid the locks and flung open the
door. "Mac! What's the matter? What are you doing here? Oh, god, something's happened to Dee!" At Blair's frightened words, the sentinel padded the rest of the way down the stairs.
MacLeod laid a reassuring hand on Blair's shoulder. "Diandra's fine, she should be on her way to DC right now." He couldn't help but notice the look of anguish that flashed across his friend's face as he mentioned Dee's trip. "She's just fine, in fact, she's the reason I'm here. She asked me to look out for you while she's gone."
Ellison crossed the loft to stand behind his guide. "She what?"
Crossing the threshold, the Immortal set a small duffle bag on the floor and shrugged out of his trenchcoat, hanging it on one of the hooks to the right of the door. Blair closed the door, then turned back toward Mac, just as confused as Jim was. "Why would she do that?" he asked.
Glancing from one man to the other, Mac took in their expressions, Ellison's hard and angry, and Sandburg's tired and pained. "Because she's worried about you--both of you," he emphasized to forestall any protest from Ellison. "And Megan. She asked Joe and I to act as bodyguards until this guy who shot Megan is caught. Joe's at the hospital right now, looking out for her. I volunteered to stick close to you."
"What is it with you Immortals?" Blair exclaimed in frustration. "I don't need a damn bodyguard!"
Jim folded his arms over his bare chest and glared at the Scot, who stood his ground calmly. "I am perfectly capable of protecting my guide." His words were a low growl.
"From everyone but you... " Blair's voice was so soft MacLeod barely heard him, but he knew the sentinel got the message loud and clear.
Ellison closed his eyes for a moment, his expression pained, then turning, he headed upstairs, his back rigid.
Mac shook his head slightly. Dee, lass, what in the hell have you gotten me into? He raised an eyebrow at Blair.
"Don't look at me, man. I'm not giving up my bed for you. If you're determined to stay, you can sleep on the couch." He disappeared into his room for a moment, then returned, tossing a pillow and blanket at the Immortal. "Turn out the light and lock up, would you?" He re-entered the bedroom and shut the door.
Mac made up his bed on the sofa then did as Blair asked before lying down. Crossing his arms behind his head, he stared at the ceiling, thinking evil thoughts about a certain dark-haired immortal of his acquaintance.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Darkness surrounded her, the only illumination that of the stars twinkling in the black velvet sky above. Despite the lack of light, she recognized her surroundings, having been to this place many times before. She gazed up at the tall pillars flanking the entrance to the temple. Since she had been called here for a reason, she had better find out what it was. Taking a deep breath of the crisp air, she started up the steps, pausing when she reached the top. The last time she had been here had been to accept her role of Champion again. That time Lydia had been the messenger.
She shook herself, then walked into the torch-lit temple. Pausing in front of a tall mirror halfway down the long room, she gazed at herself in surprise. Instead of the familiar battle armor of an Amazon, she wore the long, flowing, white tunic of a priestess, a decorative metal breastplate covering her chest, and a short sword that was more symbolic than useful belted at her waist. Her hair was piled on top of her head in the elaborate ceremonial style she'd worn as Apollo's Oracle. Her brow creased in a frown. What was going on?
A soft rustling noise behind her made her turn around. Her Goddess stood there, dressed in the simple leathers of the Huntress. Diandra dropped to one knee, bowing her head. A hand touched her shoulder briefly, then the goddess spoke. "Rise, Chosen One."
She got slowly to her feet, keeping her eyes on the ground in deference. Artemis spoke again. "You may ask your question."
"Why am I here? Why now?" Realization struck her, and her head came up, tears stinging her eyes. "It's because I left my Companion, isn't it? I'm here because I'm not at Megan's side. Something's going to happen to her. No, please," she pleaded. "It's not her fault. Please don't hurt her!"
The Goddess chuckled softly. "Relax, Diandra, your Companion is safe for the moment, as are the Guide and his Sentinel. You are here because it is time for some things to be revealed to you. For nearly three thousand years you have been the Fates Chosen One. You have done almost everything that has been asked of you; you have been the catalyst for events in this world, and in the world of mortals. But even Immortals do not live forever. For eventually each one must fall, so that other souls can take their place."
She hesitated a moment before she spoke, trying to understand the Goddess' message. "Are you saying there is no Game?"
"I'm saying the purpose of the Game may not be what most Immortals believe. For everything in the universe, there is an opposite, a balance. The Game keeps that balance among Immortals. For each Immortal that dies in the game, another crosses over. You have seen it yourself, Diandra, you have killed, and then met a new Immortal, most of whom you chose to teach."
She nodded slowly, remembering Violette Crane, and then meeting Dana Scully the day after she had bested her in battle. "For each one fallen, another rises. That is our true Immortality, not our long lives."
The Goddess nodded. "Only once have you not followed the decision of the Fates. The time is coming for you to rectify that mistake."
Diandra drew in a long breath. "When have I not done the Gods bidding? Perhaps I did not understand the message. After all, the Three can be rather cryptic in their instructions."
Artemis laughed. "That has long been my complaint with the Sisters also." The smile faded from her face. "There was a moment, not so long ago as we judge time, that you did not face your responsibility, you ran from your duty. As a result, many mortals died. The time has come for you to atone for your error in judgement."
The Champion shivered. She remembered the moment all too clearly, a challenge she had refused on the eve of the Second World War. She had fled Europe to the Far East to avoid killing someone she held dear. Turning horrified eyes on her Goddess, she said, "No, I can't... "
The Huntress' voice was firm. "You have no say in the matter. You will face that challenge again, and this time running will not be an option. You must finish what was ordained long ago."
After a long moment, Diandra nodded, dread washing over her. "How much time do I have?" she asked.
"Do not despair, or the fight is already lost. Not all battles are won with a sword. Perhaps this one can be won with the heart. As for when, you will know when the time is here, not before." Nodding, Diandra genuflected before her. Artemis laid a hand on her head. "Go in strength, Chosen One." With those words, she was gone.
With a small sob, Diandra collapsed to the cold marble floor, once again letting the tears flow.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jim Ellison snatched his phone up. "If this is another of those damned reporters..." he growled.
The voice on the line was cool, almost icy. "You'll what, Ellison? Do to me what you did to Blair?"
"Diandra, I really don't think this is any of your business..." he began, but she cut him off.
"Oh, this is definitely my business, since I didn't get the message through your thick skull the last time we had this little talk."
"I'm not in the mood for a lecture from you. I'm having enough problems as it is. I don't need you defending Sandburg to me, not after what he's done to my life."
"This is not about you, Ellison!" she barked. "It has never been about you! Don't you get it? We are nothing without the guide, without the companion. We exist only as a part of them! A true symbiosis if you will, each is nothing without the other. So get it through your neanderthal head that what you are experiencing, what you are feeling is nothing! Nothing compared to what your soulmate is going through, for he feels your pain as well as his own. Find a way to make it right, Ellison, or I will make you very,
very sorry you didn't." With that final warning, the phone went dead.
The woman was nuts, Jim thought, as he stared at the phone, just plain nuts. He looked up as Rafe said something about Sandburg giving a press conference. His heart plunging to his feet, he followed the rest of the bullpen toward the TV.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Diandra flipped her cell phone shut with a snap. She hadn't meant to lose her temper, but he just pushed all her buttons, much as she did to him. She doubted her words would have any real affect on Ellison; he'd become pretty much immune to her threats. It would take a bombshell dropping on him to make him realize how much he was hurting Blair. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the corridor wall. Damn it! She shouldn't be here; she should be in Cascade, at Megan's side, at Blair's side. Despite Artemis' reassurances that they were fine, the ache in her heart wasn't going away.
The light pressure of a hand on her shoulder made her jump. She opened her eyes to find Dana's concerned gaze on her. 'You okay, Dee?"