Return to TunTavern's Treasure of Creative Fiction | Return to TunTavern's Main Page |
Cake
A Highlander: The Series Story by Whitethorn
It would have been impossible not to notice her, Methos mused. He leaned back against the cool leather of the booth, and propped his legs up on the other side. A waitress brought him his beer, and he drank it slowly, watching the woman lazily.
She had a figure most women only dream about. The short, green dress accented her high, proud breasts, and flowed down her slender waist, and left her long, shapely legs bare. Hair the color the "old masters of art" had lovingly named "titan-red" flowed down her back in wild waves.
Methos watched her play idly with her bar napkin, her soft, red lips pursed slightly. He couldn't see her eye color from where he was sitting, but he was willing to bet that under those dark, sooty lashes, they were green.
It wasn't her looks that attracted him, it was the intangible sense of power he sensed emanating from her. She wasn't a immortal, he would have known that right away. Woman thy name is mystery, Methos quoted silently. An enigma, interesting....
Another man approached her. He watched her to see if the reaction would be the same as it had been before. All she had done before, was look up and smile at the man. Again came the smile, and the man shied away, beating a hasty retreat.
Stranger, and stranger, Methos thought. It was with some amusement that he admitted the woman made him curious. He had gotten a little spoiled over the centuries, being able to satisfy his curiousity whenever he wished.
Yup, he was Methos, the walking, talking, encyclopedia of knowledge. Got damn boring at times too. He watched as she raised the sniffer of amber-colored liquid to her lips and pretended to drink. Why she was putting forth the appearance of drinking, he didn't know.
A very large, very drunk punk-rocker ambled over to where she was sitting at the bar. "What'ya dune, sitting all alone, purty thang?" He slurred.
The woman eyed him for a moment, then for some inexplicable reason, the punk-rocker lost control of his bodily functions and soiled himself. Badly.
Methos continued to watch as she sighed gently, removed a napkin from the bar and tossed it in his general direction. The punk-rocker grabbed it, and clutched it to his chest, wandering towards the exit with a dumbfounded look on his face. The punk-rocker seemed totally oblivious to the crude remarks aimed his way about his offensive body odor.
Methos smiled slightly, and signalled for a refill. Taking a deep drink of the beer, he decided to dig a little deper. He focused his attention on her. Fully. Blocking out everything from his mind and vision, he looked.
The woman smiled. She didn't turn her head, or acknowledge him in any way, but Methos knew she had caught on to what he had just attempted. If anything, it intrigued him more.
Suddenly, in one smooth motion, she slid off her bar stool, and walked towards him. Methos noticed two things at once. One, her eyes were indeed green. A fiery, brillant green. The second thing he had noticed was that she only wore one piece of jewelery.
It was a art deco brooch, executed in black jade, and what could have been either silver or platinum. The design was of a violin cracked into two pieces.
She stopped in front of his booth only long enought to set her sniffer down on the table, and glance briefly at him. Then she was gone, disappearing into the Parisian night.
Damn if he wasn't more curious then ever, Methos thought, sipping a third beer absently. Slowly he ran over what he had seen in her eyes.
First had been the pull of power, and for a few brief seconds it had tempted him. Then he had seen the wisdom, and the experience of centuries lurking in those green depths. Experience, and a fleeting glimpse of madness.
The last thing he had discovered, was the most memorable. He had seen a shadowy beast. It had glared at him with blazing eyes, and Methos had felt its' hunger and rage...
What was she? He really had to know! He did so love a puzzle, and this was the first one in a long time that had triggered his interest.
For the rest of the night, and into the next day, he searched. But even all his vast stores of knowledge had left him empty-handed. Experiencing frustration was something he hadn't tasted in ages, and he found he didn't like it.
He went to the bar again the next night. His wait, however, proved to be fruitless. The only thing out of the ordinary that happened was a bunch of rowdy kids had almost trashed the jukebox. The machine seemed to be broken, playing the same CD over and over again.
As Methos left the bar, a phrase from the song on that CD kept repeating itself over and over again in his head.
"....You may be right, I may be crazy, But it just might be a lunatic you're looking for...."
Methos frowned darkly, and forced the annoying tune out of his head. Returning home, he slammed the door, switched on the lights, and walked into his bedroom. He kicked off his shoes, and noticed something twinkling on his pillow. Padding over to his bed, he examined the item lying on his pillow. There was no mistaking the item. It was her brooch!
The brooch had a ominous meaning to it. She knew where he lived. She probably even knew he had been looking for her. So he checked into a hotel that night. A immortal didn't manage to live for 5000 years without being cautious.
The next day, he only stopped at his place long enough to gather up a few things. Someone hammered on the front door. Stealing a peek, Methos saw that it was Duncan McCloud.
He opened the door, and let McCloud in.
"What is it? I'm busy." Methos snapped impatiently.
McCloud glared at him. "I'll have you know I'm not your damned errand boy!"
"What are you talking about?" McCloud tossed him a small duffle bag. Methos caught it deftly.
"What is it?"
"McCloud shrugged. "Don't know."
There were two things in the duffle. One was a small, black violin, neatly broken into two pieces. The second was a matchbook from the hotel he had stayed in last night.
"What'ya do, piss off a musician?" McCloud asked, looking over his shoulder to see what was in the duffle.
"Where did you get this?" Methos demanded.
McCloud looked confused for a moment. "A pretty redhead gave it to me. Said it was for you."
"When?"
"Late last night." McCloud told him. "She came to my place and urged me to get it to you today. Said it was important."
Methos was silent for a minute. "Well it looks like you're going to have company for a few days." Methos told him after a moment's thought. "Only if you tell me what's going on." Duncan countered.
"Damn cocky Scotsman." Methos growled, as he gathered up a few things. He could only hope she showed up at McCloud's again.
Methos got his wish sooner then he anticipated. They had eaten a good dinner, and were sitting in front of the fireplace drinking Duncan's fine whiskey.
There was a knock at the door. Duncan sat his glass down, and walked to the door. He came back a few minutes later, looking a little dazed.
"Who was it?" Methos asked.
"Oh....the red head. I think she's still waiting outside for you." Duncan told him, sinking into the chair and staring into the fire.
Methos jumped up, and exercising extreme caution, approached the window facing the door. Getting a good grip on his sword, he lifted the curtain a fraction of a inch.
It was her alright. Only this time she was dressed differently. She had black combat boots on, snug black leather pants, and a black leather jacket over a blood red chemise-styled top. Her hair was pulled back and up into a elevated ponytail.
Unlike the last time he had seen her, she had a rosy bloom of color on her cheeks. The woman had her compact out, and was re-applying lipstick while chewing bubble gum.
"Methos, can you come out and play?" She called out in a sweet sing-song voice. She snapped the compact closed, and placed the lipstick into a jacket pocket.
Methos was momentarily taken back by her arrogance. She tapped a boot impatiently, and blew a huge bubble without messing up her lipstick in the slightest.
"I promise to be a good little girl, and stop bothering you." She purred softly.
It was too much. Keeping his sword concealed behind the door, but readily accessible, he cracked the door open a few inches. Silently he watched her, letting her make the first move.
"If you want answers, be at the alley behind the bar tomorrow night at 8 pm." She instructed with a slight smile.
"And if I'm not?" Methos queried.
She smiled at him. "Do you really want me to answer that?" Power, raw and unrestrained carressed him lightly.
Again, Methos said nothing, only raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, you might want to pick your friend up off the floor now, Lots of nasty drafts there." She told him with a sly grin.
Methos wouldn't have bothered looking if he hadn't heard the soft thump earlier. He only spared a split second to look behind him. McCloud had indeed fallen out of his chair, and lay unmoving on the floor. When Methos looked back, she was gone.
Cursing loudly, Methos shut the door, resisting the urge to slam it. He walked over to McCloud and found him to be breathing, but out cold. Slapping him soundly a few times roused him. McCloud had then stumbled groggily into his bedroom, and flopped down on his bed.
Methos remained in front of the fire for some time thinking. Oh, he would go tomorrow night, but he would be prepared this time. And he doubted the trickly little bitch would get the better of him again.
The smell of garbage and raw sewage was strong in the alley. Methos wrinkled up his nose distastefully, as he rounded the corner. The alley was empty. Correction: the alley was devoid of life, but it wasn't empty.
It was the weirdest thing he had ever seen. There was a huge cake in the alley. The type you expected to see a dancing girl pop out of at parties.
Methos played with the collar of the long trench coat he wore. His sword was secured behind his back under the coat. He knew he could have it ready in his hand in less then a second.
The top of the cake exploded in a cloud of bright sparkles. Methos had his sword out a millisecond later, as she popped out of the cake. The woman had changed outfits again. This time she was dressed in a outfit that could have easily make a Vegas show girl green with envy.
It was the hat that almost made him laugh. Her bizarre headgear was a sequined beanie, complete with a spinning propeller at the top. She was holding a small cake in her hands.
"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you, dear Methos! Happy birthday to you!" She sang.
It was disturbing, but true. Fact is it was his birthday, Methos realized. He couldn't help grinning, after all it got rather difficult keeping track of birthdays after about a thousand years.
"Now blow out the candles, and make a wish!" She instructed. Methos looked at the candles. They were a bright yellow, and read "5001". Amazing. He blew out the candles and they relit. Novelty candles, he figured, as he attempted to blow them out again. They stayed out the third time he extinguished them. It was a plain, normal white cake, with pink frosting. Rather tasty too. "So do I get my wish?" He asked, licking frosting from his fingers. His other hand still held the sword ready.
She shrugged, sending the beads on her outfit jiggling.
"Depends on what you wished for."
"Just some answers. Who are you?" He asked.
"Sian Leslie." She answered.
"Hmm....maybe I should rephrase that. What are you?"
"Can't tell you that." She told him.
"Why?"
"It's against the rules." She explained.
"Oh, come on, it's my birthday after all." Methos coaxed. With some disgust, he saw that there was pink frosting under his nails, left over from where he had torn off a hunk of cake.
"Would you settle for a smile?" She asked coyly. Without waiting for his answer, she flashed him a bright one.
Methos saw that she had nice, white pearly teeth. Correction: Nice, white teeth, and two very sharp, pearly white fangs. The woman was a bloody vampire!
"Why Methos, you look positively shocked. Surely you didn't think your kind were the only immortals around, did you? She teased.
Methos eyed her impassively.
"Oh you naughty boy, that's exactly what you thought isn't it?" She scolded, laughing and waggling a finger at him.
Methos snorted indignantly. "How many are there of you?" He asked.
She gave him a indulgent smile, and ignored the question.
Methos realized that he wouldn't get anywhere with this line of conversation, so he switched topics.
"What do you want from me?" He asked.
"Just wanted to deliver your birthday cake."
"That's it?" He asked incredulously.
"Well, I had to get your attention first. Not an easy task mind you."
"Pretty damn elaborate scheme just to deliver a cake." He stated, looking closely at her. "My God, you're serious!" He exclaimed a few minutes later, realizing she meant what she had said. minutes later, realizing she meant what she had said. minutes later, realizing she meant what she had said. "That's crazy!"
"Yup."
"That's crazy!" He stated.
She tilted her head sideways, sending the propeller on the beanie into a drunken spin. "Do you really think so?"
"Damn straight."
"OH!!!!" She squealed, jumping up and down, and clapping her hands like a overenthusistic schoolgirl. "You say the sweetest things."
Methos eyed her suspiciously. Maybe she really was nuts. That or damned clever. "Tell me something about yourself." He urged.
"What do you want to know?" She asked.
"Where were you born?" Methos asked.
"Glenkirk, Scotland."
Methos nodded thoughtfully. "What does the symbol on your brooch mean?"
"It's the symbol of my clan."
"What clan?"
Again she did nothing but smile sweetly at him. It was damn aggravating.
"Please?" He coaxed, giving her his most beguiling grin. One that he had been working on for a very long time.
She folded her arms across her chest, and gave him a pointed stare. "I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid."
Methos chuckled. He couldn't help it.
"Surely there must be something yu want in exchange for information." He offered, tempting her.
"How about a favor? Payable someday when I need it?" She countered.
"Mnn....too ambiguous. I'm not stupid either."
"Dinner some night?" She grinned broadly at him.
"Uh-uh. I prefer my brand of immortality."
"No deal then." She said, tossing her head. The beanie propeller seemed to take on a life of its' own.
"Ok, how about a compromise then?"
She raised an questioning eyebrow.
"A conditional favor. You come to me with your favor, and if it's reasonable, we'll talk."
"Done!" She agreed.
"Ok, what clan?"
"Malkavian."
Methos absorbed the information. He looked at her thoughtfully.
"Now I really must be going. I have a late dinner date planned, and I don't want to miss my date." She grinned at him. A crash sounded in the alley nearby. "Oh dear, I hope that's not him." She sighed.
Methos fell for it. He looked for the briefest of seconds, and didn't spot anything. When he looked at her again, she was gone.
"Damnit!" He cursed softly. "Wonder if I'll ever see her again." He pondered aloud.
The only answer he received was the soft sound of laughter, echoing back towards him on a cool, misty night breeze.
Return to TunTavern's Treasure of Creative Fiction | Return to TunTavern's Main Page |
Comments to author:WhiteThorn