The Power to Hurt III

By Michelle Fields

Copyright October 2000

Revised August 2004

This story takes place during the LFN episodes “Playing With Fire” and “On Borrowed Ground.”

Chapter One

As Mahleah chopped vegetables for a salad, swaying and singing to the music from her stereo, Michael looked at her askance.

I made it through the wilderness

Somehow, I made it through

Didn’t know how lost I was

Until I found you.

“’Like a Virgin’?” he raised an eyebrow.

She smiled, “Pipe down, Musashi. I’m reliving my evil youth.”

“Evil?”

She chuckled, “Not really evil, but this song does bring back memories of the only squeamish lecture I ever got about music. It wasn’t from my father, though. He just looked at the album cover, shook his head and made some comment about her looking like a prom queen in heat – not an original thought I grant you.”

“He didn’t mind you listening to such bawdy lyrics?”

She shrugged, “I was a teenager. He thought she was harmless. I mean, we’re talking about a guy who let me watch him perform in a run-down roadhouse while I was growing up. He knew I’d heard a lot worse.”

“So, who gave you the lecture?”

“Well, I was visiting my best friend Diana, and had brought a bunch of records with me. We were jamming in her room, when her father stormed in breathing fire and brimstone. He proceeded to instruct us on the impropriety of young ladies singing about…what did he call it…our virtue. I had a hard time keeping a straight face.”

“I’ll bet,” he replied wryly.

“I always thought people like Madonna were good for Diana. She needed more assertive role models in her life – her mom was completely under the thumb of Mr. High and Mighty Morals who wasn’t above using his fists to solve arguments with his family.”

He was watching her knife skillfully cut up a cucumber as he said, “So what about your mother?”

The knife paused in mid-air for a full second, then continued to slice, “I don’t really remember her that well. She died when I was two.”

Not entirely certain why, he persisted, “Was she musical like you and your dad?”

She got a curious half smile on her lips, “In a way. She left a huge record collection – mostly R & B and Soul but there was other stuff as well. One album was a recording of Faust and I can still hear the voice of the soprano playing Marguerite. My mom was a singer too, you know, but she sang with an opera company several years before I was born. When I listened to Faust, I always imagined Marguerite’s voice to be my mother’s. To this day, ‘Ange pur, ange radieux’ gives me chills because hearing it, I always feel a connection to her even if she’s been dead for over twenty years.”

He studied her, “When was the last time you heard it?”

Her gaze grew even more wistful, “Earlier this year when I was walking on the wild side, I was lucky enough to have a friend who made every effort to reach me…”

“It wasn’t MacLeod?” he interrupted, surprised.

She shook her head, “No, it wasn’t.” She laughed, “No, it was my guardian angel. Later, when I was recovering from the horrors of the things that I had done, he took me to see Faust and I wept at the ending. I think it was the most beautiful catharsis I’ve ever experienced.”

“It’s good to have a friend that cares that much,” he said softly.

She walked around the counter, carrying two salad bowls, “Yes, it is.” She sat one in front of him. “In that spirit of friendship, I hope you’re not letting Section win.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’ve managed to take so much away from you. I hope you’re not going to let Nikita be another casualty.”

He shook his head firmly, “There’ll be no more casualties in this war if I can help it.”

“Good,” she sat down next to him. “If you need any help, let me know.”

He saw the weariness in her eyes and thought that he couldn’t ask any more of her. Something within him understood that one of the reasons she had given up the love of her life was to protect the other people she cared about from the wrath of Operations and Madeline. It hurt him that she had made such a sacrifice and there was nothing he could do to repay it -- nothing that is, but see that it was not in vain and that any future fallout would land as far from his friend as possible.

Chapter Two

At the bar of “The Copperhead”, Tony watched with Teresa as Mahleah poured out her heart in a ballad.

Little girl

Don’t run away so fast

I think you forgot to kiss…kiss her goodbye

He wasn’t sure what had brought on this sudden bittersweet remembrance of her mother, Catriona. Was it the recent loss of MacLeod, or merely the periodic upwelling of a lifelong sorrow? He glanced at his teenage daughter and saw that her eyes were glistening: another victim of the vagaries of fate. It was odd to think that one Immortal could have taken everything away from them, and another touch them so much. Mahleah could never replace all they had lost when Jacob killed his wife, but her presence and her personality had eased his remaining resentment at her kind.

Will she see me cry when I stumble and fall?

Does she hear my voice in the night when I call?

Wipe away all your tears it’s gonna be all right.

I fought to be so strong

I guess you knew I was afraid

You’d go away too

Still, it wasn’t entirely reassuring having her here for several reasons. As an Immortal, she tended to be a danger magnet, and being Duncan MacLeod’s most prominent student, she tended to inherit his luck as well. She never looked for trouble, but it always found her. Then, of course, there was her motivation for gracing his little club. He knew her cover story was as phony as a three-dollar bill.

Little girl

You’ve got to forget the past

And learn to forgive me

I promise to try…but it feels like a lie.

Lies were indeed swirling around this intensely honest woman. From the facts she’d never been told about Catriona to the organization she now worked for, Mahleah’s life was full of deceptions, manipulations, and half-truths. Tony wasn’t sure exactly who the group giving her orders was, but they were obviously after Shawn. He sighed. What had the boy done now?

Don’t let memory play games with your mind

She’s a faded smile frozen in time

I’m still hanging on…but I’m doing it wrong.

Can’t kiss her goodbye…but I promise to try.

The audience applauded enthusiastically. He had to give her credit, despite the disreputable location their business doubled or tripled on the nights when she sang. Mahleah stepped down from the small raised area they called a stage and walked toward him. Teresa, catching sight of a thirsty patron waving frantically to her, squeezed the singer’s arm as she walked by, and then hurried to refill some glasses.

Mahleah was rather parched as well, and took a large gulp from her water bottle. Since the incident with Walter, she preferred to break the seal on her bottles personally. He gathered she’d said a few things she regretted after a couple of his “specials” and was ensuring her drinks had no active ingredients that would cause trouble.

“That was rather gut-wrenching,” he commented.

She shrugged, smiling, “I got a little sentimental tonight.” Her smile faded, and she looked at him closely, “I hope I didn’t hit too close to home.”

“We’re fine,” he lied convincingly. He cleared his throat. “I’ve been more worried about you lately.”

“Me, why?” she asked with surprise.

“It’s just with Duncan gone…” he began but she quickly interrupted.

“My God, not you too! I’m tired of people walking on eggshells around me. Despite what you guys think I’m not that fragile. I’m not going to break because he and I aren’t together.”

“I’m well aware of that,” he said with a bit irony. “I’ve just noticed that you’ve brooded a bit more than usual. Maybe you’ve been hanging with the wrong men these past few years.”

She laughed, “Yikes, have I been that morbid? I’ve known some moody, Byronic types in my time. Well, I promise I’ll try to be more cheerful. Things aren’t that bad.”

He regarded her intently. “I’ll never get used to that.”

“What?”

“That alien concept of thinking of life in terms of centuries.”

“How do you mean?” she was puzzled.

“I mean, you can rationalize most of the mistakes or sorrows in your life by thinking how much time you’ll have to fix or get over them. We poor mortals don’t have that luxury.”

“I wasn’t,” she began, but this time he interrupted her.

“Are you trying to tell me that it’s never occurred to you that your latest tempest with MacLeod doesn’t really matter because in the long run, you’ll have eternity to patch up things with him?”

“If we’re lucky we’ll have time, but we have no more promises than you do that we’ll see tomorrow, Tony. There’s a little something called The Game to worry about, remember?”

He leaned in toward her, his face intent, “Yes there is, I agree, but then I could also walk out of here tonight and get hit by a taxi. It’s not the same thing, Mahleah. Even if a Mortal is lucky enough to avoid a fatal accident, disease, homicide, or other foul play: how likely is that person to see a complete century? If we die of natural causes, we normally only have 70 or 80 years to get everything right. If you manage to avoid the only means of your death, you have the promise of untold years before you. Whether you realize it or not it shapes your decisions.”

She swallowed another drink of water, pondering his words. Catching sight of Seth who was waving to her, she put the cap back on the bottle and pushed it to Tony.

“Keep this cold for me, huh? We’ll have to finish this discussion later.”

He watched as she rejoined the group of guys on stage. It was remarkable the influence she’d had in such a short time. They were sounding better than ever, and Seth was even growing more comfortable with singing the occasional solo. After she glanced at the set list taped to the top of one of the amps, she grabbed a guitar. Listening to the first notes, Tony recalled a conversation he’d had once with Joe who had warned him that when Mahleah went for a Springsteen song it was generally an indication of strong internal emotions that were being suppressed.

We met out on open streets when we had no place to go

I remember how my heart beat when you said I love you so

Then little by little we choked out all the life that our love could hold

Oh no

It’s like we had a noose and baby without check

We pulled until it grew tighter around our necks

Each one waiting for the other, darlin’ to say when

Well baby you can meet me tonight on the loose end

Teresa came bounding back from the kitchen, where she’d been busily filling food orders.

“Dad,” she said with excitement. “Come back here. You need to see something.”

He frowned, but taking stock of his customers decided they were more interested in the stage than refills now. He followed his eager child back into the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks at what he saw. His only son grinned at him with the lovable, crooked smile that was engraved on Tony’s heart.

Tony was speechless for a long moment, as Shawn’s brown eyes twinkled at him, “So, don’t I even rate a hug?”

Silently, he held out his arms and the prodigal son returned his embrace.

We didn’t count tomorrows, we took what we could,

And baby we ran

There was no time for sorrow,

Every place we went I held your hand

And when the night closed in

I was sure your kisses told me all I had to know

But oh no

The words floated in and recalled Tony to the present with considerable alarm. Mahleah was outside. While he knew she would regret causing his family any more sorrow, her hands would be tied. There was only one reason her particular organization would have sent her here and the only way to avoid catastrophe for them all was to get Shawn out of here as quickly and quietly as possible.

Unfortunately, the sound of the sultry chanteuse caught Shawn’s attention as well. He went to the kitchen door and peered out of its round window.

“Wow, who’s that?” he asked, eyeing Mahleah appreciatively.

“No one you’d be interested in,” Tony said hastily. That path could only lead to disaster for all concerned. He seriously doubted Shawn had moved passed his nearly obsessional hatred of Immortals yet. Shawn did not need to meet Mahleah and vice versa.

“Well Dad, even if you’re going blind in your old age, surely you’re not quite deaf yet. She’s really good.”

“Shawn, you have to get out of here,” he said insistently. “It’s not safe.”

“Yeah,” Shawn took a last regretful glance at Mahleah and turned back to his family. “You’re right. In fact, I can’t stay. I just dropped by to see if you guys were doing okay. I’ll be back in the area in about six months and I thought we could have a proper family reunion then.”

“Yes,” Tony agreed. Six months – hopefully in that time, Mahleah’s bosses would tire of the search and transfer her someplace else. If not, he would still have time to think of some plans to keep the two out of each other’s way.

Our love has fallen around us like we said it never could

We saw it happen to all the others but to us it never would

Well how could something so bad, darling,

Come from something that was so good

I don’t know

It’s like we had a noose and baby without check

We pulled until it grew tighter around our necks

Each one waiting for the other, darlin’ to say when

Well baby you can meet me tonight on the loose end

Chapter Three

The next day Mahleah sat with Walter, Birkoff, Michael, and Nikita as Operations and Madeline explained the current mission profile.

“The target’s name is Vladimir Drakov, a liaison between the Russian Mafia and Red Cell. He believes in living a luxurious jet-set existence with beautiful women, lots of champagne and designer drugs. His current mistress is Lolita, a model who will be busy this week on the runways as new fall fashions are unveiled. Drakov will be arriving in the next 24 hours and we believe will be attending at least one of the shows,” Operations told them.

“Nikita, we have arranged for you to join the models on the catwalk,” Madeline smiled. “Mahleah, you will be working behind the scenes, and Michael will be posing as a buyer.”

“This should be a simple profile,” Operations said firmly. “I expect results. Further details will be on your panels.”

As they started to leave, Madeline stopped Mahleah, “Please drop by my office before you leave. We have something to discuss.”

She strolled away, leaving Mahleah startled and a little apprehensive about what such a discussion might entail. Logic would dictate that Section should have no problems with her conduct of late. She had given up Duncan and applied herself strictly to her mission at the club. She had already submitted her weekly report concerning her activities there, so what else was there to talk about?

Beside her, Walter whistled through his teeth, “That doesn’t sound good,” he said forebodingly.

“Tell me about it,” she muttered.

“Hey,” he changed the subject, nudging her in the ribs, “I had the most intense game of chess the other day. Too bad you missed it.”

She smiled, putting her worries about Madeline aside for the moment, “Really? Who was this with?”

“You remember Beth, don’t you?” he grinned.

“Of course, I do. Is she a good player?” She recalled her advice to the young woman and inwardly chuckled at the result. Strip-chess seemed to have been a big hit with Walter. She wasn’t surprised.

“Oh yeah,” he smirked, “fabulous.”

“So, who won?”

His grin stretched from ear to ear, “We both did. I’m kind of glad that I never tried that with you though.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“I’d have been stripped down to my skin in no time flat and you’d have been fully dressed – now how much fun would that have been?” He walked off with a spring in his step.

Mahleah shook her head, grinning. It was nice that someone was having some fun.

A quarter of an hour later she was sitting in Madeline’s office awaiting whatever mind game Section had decided to initiate with her.

Madeline regarded her serenely for a long moment before speaking, “Your role at the fashion shows will be a dual one. You should not only be alert for any sign of Drakov, you should also make the acquaintance of this gentleman, Alexander Coffey.” She tilted her computer screen so Mahleah could see the image of a handsome blonde man in his early twenties.

“Coffey comes from a wealthy Tennessee family. He’s received the best education, goes to the best places, and is seen with the best people. Unfortunately, some of his companions away from the spotlight are much less pleasant. He’s been using his wealth and connections to sponsor and recruit for a terrorist group called Blue Dusk.”

“Why would he come to a fashion show?” Mahleah asked.

“He always accompanies his mother to the Paris shows every year. She is very stylish, but rather trendy. Malcolm Coffey, Alexander’s father, married ‘beneath’ him and she has felt it her duty to uphold her status as a great man’s wife ever since.”

Mahleah nodded, “What is my profile once contact has been established?”

“You are to get close to him. Invite him to hear you sing…he has an interest in music. We want him to invite you back to visit his family.” Madeline stared intently into Mahleah’s dark eyes. “Use any and all means necessary to achieve this goal.”

“Isn’t there a conflict between this profile and my current mission at the club?” Mahleah inquired. “If I’m in Tennessee how can I look for Shawn Williams?”

“We’ve ascertained from a reliable source that Williams will be out of the country for at least six months.” Madeline smiled. “That will give you ample opportunity to complete your assignment with Coffey first.”

Mahleah gave a tight smile as acknowledgment. What was being left unsaid was Madeline was testing and punishing her for her behavior while Michael was in charge as well as her previously clandestine relationship with Duncan. She’d been warned that non-cooperation on a mission would mean cancellation. It seemed that to drive that message home she was being sent on a Valentine mission. Oh joy.

Chapter Four

Malcolm Coffey greeted Duncan MacLeod with open arms and a glass of the finest Scotch whiskey.

“How many years has it been?” he asked his old friend.

“Five, I think,” Duncan replied. “How is everyone doing?”

“Oh, I couldn’t be better,” Malcolm said jovially. “Marie graduates from Vanderbilt in the spring – with honors, I think – and Alex donates much of his time to charity work. It’s amazing how much vitality the young have, isn’t it? He works 8-10 hours a day at an accounting firm, volunteers several hours, then still has the zap to dance the night away with some pretty girl at a club.” He shook his head. “I don’t think I was that energetic at his age.”

Since Duncan hadn’t met Malcolm until he was nearly forty, he really didn’t know what the man was like in his twenties. “Somehow I bet you were ten times worse than Alex ever dreamed,” he grinned. “Where is he anyway?”

“Oh, he’s off to Paris with his mother to see the fall fashions,” Malcolm laughed. “No doubt he’s more interested in the models than what they’re wearing. Oh well, it’s a great city for falling in love.”

“Yeah,” Duncan’s smile felt tight and forced as an image of Mahleah immediately sprang into his head. He blinked her picture away, to add casually, “I just came from Paris not long ago.”

“Small world,” Malcolm brandished the whiskey decanter, “Refill?”

“Please,” Duncan replied gratefully.

“So, how long are you planning to stay?” Malcolm inquired. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, you know.”

The Immortal gazed into his glass thoughtfully, letting the liquor swirl around in hypnotizing waves, “I’m not sure,” he said finally.

“Well, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. Alex should be back next week some time and he’d love to see you again. Marie will be in for the weekend – she’ll have to rummage through her mother’s new stash of designer clothes. Promise you’ll stay until then.”

“Fine,” Duncan agreed. He couldn’t stay in one place terribly long, but a couple of weeks with old friends would do him some good. It might even manage to take his mind off a certain honey-haired woman whose voice haunted him in his dreams.

“Great,” his host beamed. “Then you’ll have plenty of time to confess the secrets of your youthful looks. My God, man, do you ever age? Come on, admit it – it’s all those beautiful women, right, that keep you forever young?”

Duncan shook his head ruefully, “Malcolm, nothing in the world ages you faster than a beautiful woman.”

Especially when you may never see her again, his mind finished.

Chapter Five

Michael felt that of the three profiles on this assignment, his was probably the least annoying. As a buyer for a fictitious chain of department stores he flirted with the models, chatted with the designers, answered questions from rich women about clothes they should never be seen in, and kept his eyes open for Vladimir Drakov. The female operatives endured a very different experience, he knew.

Nikita had to contend with twits who thought that collecting models was an acceptable extracurricular activity, colleagues who were wary and jealous of a newcomer, and the lifestyle to which she was expected to conform. She actively complained when given the chance about how much she’d like to see Madeline put through such degrading treatment.

Mahleah was rather silent about her ordeal, which actually worried Michael more. He’d seen the dangerous gleam in her eyes as he wandered backstage. Not that he could blame her actually. A beautiful woman, she didn’t even have the glamour of Nikita’s cover to keep away some of the predators who saw her as lower class goods there for the taking. On one occasion, she had just finished sewing a model into her dress (he could imagine her thoughts on the subject), when a man reached out and grabbed one of her breasts from behind then started crooning about making her a star brighter than any in the heavens.

Michael had quickly stepped in between the two before the red-faced woman literally tore him to shreds. Mahleah understood the danger of breaking her cover, but there was no way that she could let someone by with treating her with such disrespect. She slapped him hard…. So hard in fact, that Michael, who had long thought he was inured to violence, winced. The creep had nearly fallen over, being saved by the nearby wall, as she stormed away.

Muttering curses with every breath, the injured man stood there with a perfect imprint of her hand across his cheek. There was no doubt in Michael’s mind that if he’d needed her fingerprints, a copy could easily be made from this creep’s face. He stared coldly at the man, who threatened to sue and get her fired and everything in between to make himself feel better.

“Be glad her hand was open,” he advised, before walking off.

The models didn’t really treat her much better. A couple were downright vicious in their contempt. It was understandable. They worked in a cutthroat business where the Next Big Thing could knock you off your superstar pedestal at any time. They saw her as a potential rival, and she had no protection against them.

Yet, it was an unfair assumption that all the women were catty bitches. As he watched two long-legged beauties begin their strut down the catwalk, he spotted both Nikita, and Mahleah’s favorite of the bunch: Rebecca. Sixteen years old, with glossy black hair, sapphire eyes, and a dimple in her chin, she was new to the business and completely refreshing. As she strutted past his position, she broke the normally dead-serious look of her colleagues and winked at him. When he smiled back, she gave him a little grin, turned on her heel, and sauntered back.

He was watching her make her return trip when his eye fell on the next set of models and he caught his breath. Nikita was clad in a barely there blue dress that matched her eyes and made his heart beat faster. Unlike Rebecca, she kept her composure when she saw him, but her eyes danced merrily in silent laughter. All the way down, and all the way back up the runway, his gaze was fixed on her until she was out of sight. He exhaled, knowing she’d enjoyed his reaction very much.

Looking to the side, he saw someone else was amused as well – Mahleah was peeking at him from the shadows and grinning outrageously. Grinning that is, until one of the girls came off the runway and said something to her sharply. He shook his head. These poor, underfed females had no idea that they were starved alley cats to her sleek, shining tigress. She could claw them up with one hand, kick their tiny butts across the English Channel, and make them go crying back to mama. That she hadn’t was a testament to her self-control.

It was an interesting contrast certainly. Nikita was slim, but she was also muscular and very healthy. It was probably why Madeline chose her to do the modeling and Mahleah to work behind the scenes. Nikita fit the current image of what a runway model should be much better than Mahleah who was certainly curvier than the standard. It caused her to draw attention from the backstage prowlers who certainly didn’t care about her sparkling wit, fierce intelligence, or burning talent. No, her appeal to them was as old as a caveman was -- T & A, simple as that. It was why some of the “stars” resented her so fiercely.

Another quality that most of the people in this industry could not appreciate, Michael reflected, was her loyalty to her friends. Despite the danger, Mahleah was facilitating a rendezvous between Nikita and himself. After the show was over, he would meet them backstage and Mahleah had volunteered to play lookout and prevent anyone from disturbing their “conversation.” He only hoped that she wouldn’t have to pay too high a price for her assistance.

Not long after Mahleah’s confrontation, the show was over. Michael mingled with the crowd for half an hour before finding his way backstage. Mahleah spotted him with visible relief.

“What took you so long, Musashi?” she asked.

“I had to make sure Drakov wasn’t here,” he explained.

“Well Nikita’s been a nervous wreck. We were about to think you had changed your mind.”

He shook his head, “Where is she?”

“One of the fitting rooms – this way,” she led him through a hall to a doorway.

“Will anyone need to use this room tonight?”

She grinned, “Only for the same purpose. I’m sure more than a few couples are going to be ticked they didn’t get here first. Too bad, losers weepers.”

“Mahleah,” he hesitated, not sure of the words.

“You’re welcome,” she told him. “Never let it be said that I failed to do my part for true love. Go on, she’s waiting.”

He gave her one last grateful look and went inside.

As the door opened, Nikita turned. She was still wearing the skimpy blue outfit.

“I like that dress,” he said softly.

Her eyes widened and then she said teasingly, “Maybe I should buy a copy.”

“I like you even better without it,” his mouth was getting dry looking at her.

She laughed and chills went down his spine, “You just saved me a lot of money.”

“Always happy to help you maintain a budget,” he said solemnly.

She swallowed, “Look, are you going to come here any time soon, or do I have to come over there and jump you?”

He stepped closer, “Both prospects are appealing.”

She met him halfway, “I never thought I’d have to say this Michael, but shut up and kiss me.”

For once in his life, Michael Samuelle was happy to obey an order.

Chapter Six

Mahleah leaned up against the wall outside the fitting room with a smile on her face. At least one good thing had come out of this miserable assignment. It hadn’t exactly been the most fun job she’d ever had. Most of the women she worked with treated her professionally, but the few who didn’t made her life miserable.

Drakov’s mistress Lolita was one of them. Lolita, Mahleah shook her head in disbelief. Who would chose such an image for their stage name? It screamed, Hey I’m an underage nymphomaniac looking for a rich pedophile, but you’ll do. This Lolita was considerably older than the fictional version. In her early twenties she still wanted to project a little-girl-gone-bad mystique that Mahleah found incredibly disturbing. It didn’t say much for Drakov’s taste in women, but then they weren’t here because he was Mr. Rogers.

Overall, though, the biggest pain in the posterior had been another one-name wonder, Cressida. From the moment she’d set eyes on Mahleah, the supermodel had made it a point to belittle, degrade, and harass the Immortal at every opportunity. In fact, after exiting the runway at the end of the show when Mahleah had been laughing at Michael’s response to Nikita’s dress, Cressida had started yelling at her about a pin that had been left in the dress that she was modeling. It had scratched up her delicate skin and so forth. Mahleah refrained from mentioning that the pin would have been fine if it had been left alone. Cressida had moved it to flash a little more flesh for the cameras.

She sighed. Fashion had never been one of her favorite things in the first place and this whole experience was rapidly placing it at the bottom of her list. No doubt, Madeline was sitting back at Section laughing about the whole thing.

A couple of Cressida’s friends walked past deeply engrossed in their conversation. One was congratulating the other because she had beat Cressida out for a coveted magazine cover. They were laughing about the fact that this was the second cover Cressida had missed.

“Well, what can you expect?” Miss Congeniality told Miss Popularity. “Her time is over. I mean, have you seen her without her makeup lately? She’s started to get those lines next to her eyes and mouth.”

“Maybe she should join that Revlon campaign for older women,” Miss Popularity snickered.

They moved out of earshot, leaving Mahleah’s ears, and mind ringing. She was dazed by the sudden viciousness of the two women that only hours before had been hanging on Cressida’s every word. Older women? Wrinkles? Cressida was maybe twenty-five years old. If there were any lines on her face, they were undetectable to the normal human eye -- perhaps they could only be seen with the microscopic lens of petty jealousy.

She’d known had competitive this industry was, but it was chilling to witness it firsthand. Poor Cressida – no wonder she was serving up major helpings of attitude. She had hit her zenith and was about to topple off the other side into a has-been. She had been taught to view the women around her as enemies who would stab her in the back at any moment, and judging from the two lovely ladies who had recently sauntered by it was justifiable paranoia.

With a start, Mahleah realized that she couldn’t possibly know what Cressida or others like her were going through. They worked in an atmosphere that punished women for growing old and rewarded youth. In a society where age was considered ugly, and wrinkles didn’t mean character and experience but undesirability, Cressida was considered a cast-off.

She had frankly considered the haughty model to be a bitch, but who was she to judge? She might lose her head one day, but she would never grow old…no wrinkles, no gray hairs, no sagging, no varicose veins…nothing. She would remain youthful looking as long as she was alive. Perhaps Cressida unconsciously sensed this about her and it was the basis for her antagonism. Who could blame her?

Deep in thought, Mahleah didn’t, at first, notice the man ambling toward her. When he stopped in front of her, she looked up startled. She’d nearly forgotten the other downside of this profile: the lust-filled slime-balls that congregated at these shows looking to add someone to their trophy list. She’d hoped that she would be spared such tactics since she would do little for bragging rights – she was a nobody in the fashion world, which was the way she liked it. Unfortunately, that hope was dashed. After being turned down by their choice of model, many kept lurking in search of something else to nail for the evening. Many saw her as the runner-up prize of choice despite the ear-ringing blow she’d given to one presumptuous jerk that’d gotten over-eager with her anatomy.

“Hello, precious,” the man said to her.

Inwardly she winced. If that was the best he could do, no wonder all the upper rings of the hierarchy had turned him down.

“Do you know you’re the best looking girl here?” he persisted.

She gave him a weak smile, and said, “No I’m not.”

“Oh, but you are. My name is Montgomery Hughes and I’m searching for girls just like you for my own agency. You would be perfect.”

She tried to remain pleasant while telling him firmly, “No thank you. I’m not interested.”

“Oh, but you see there’s lot of opportunities out there for fuller-figured girls. You know big is beautiful.”

She stared at him incredulously. Did he have any idea how idiotic he sounded?

“Sorry,” she repeated. “I have no desire to ‘upgrade’ my status. I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else.”

“But…” he began again, when a pleasant male voice cut in, “The lady has told you no three times now, pal. In baseball that would put you back on the bench, so why don’t you head out of here and let another batter have a try, huh?”

She raised an eyebrow and looked past the man annoying her to find the owner of the rich, husky, nearly Southern sounding tones. When she caught sight of a pair of friendly gray eyes, her heart sped up. It was Alexander Coffey.

Chapter Seven

The rejected suitor went off grumbling under his breath. Mahleah looked at the man she was expected to seduce and betray with wary interest. This would be a delicate operation. She needed him for more than a simple one-night stand…she had been ordered to accompany him back to the States.

She looked into those charming gray eyes and said, “I’m not feeling very friendly towards men at the moment so you might as well follow his lead and get lost.”

He nodded but stayed in his place, “I can see how you’d get a bad impression of the male sex working back here, but please don’t blow all of us off because of the stupidity of a few.”

She crossed her arms and narrowed her gaze, “I’m warning you that you’re wasting your time ‘cause I’m sooo not in the mood.”

He smiled warmly and as far as she could tell, sincerely, “I count myself as lucky if you’ll just talk to me for a while.” He raised his hands in mock self-defense. “That’s all – just talk.”

“Okay,” she allowed the word to sound grudgingly bestowed.

“Let’s go to a café,” he suggested, “for a cup of coffee.”

“Sorry,” she shook her head. “I can’t leave – I’m waiting on a friend. I’m afraid that if you want to talk to me you’ll have to pull up a chair and do it here.”

“I don’t really need a chair,” he declared and sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. “Join me?”

She hesitated, then followed suit, sitting on the opposite side of the door. He noticed the distance she had put between them, but made no comment.

“So, what part of the States are you from?” he inquired. “Your accent is practically non-existent, but I have a feeling I’m with a fellow Southerner.”

She allowed herself to smile, “Born and raised in Virginia, how about you?”

“Tennessee – Chattanooga, actually, and you?”

“Oh, I’m from the Southwestern Mountains…you know that part that unofficially doesn’t exist since everyone knows that Virginia ends at Roanoke.”

“Not that you’re bitter about it.”

“Oh no, not at all.” They smiled companionably.

“So how did you end up in Paris?” he asked curiously.

“I’m always traveling,” she told him. “I’m a writer, or I’m trying to be, so I’m knocking around the world in search of experience and inspiration.”

“And this job?” he raised an eyebrow.

“This gig has provided plenty of experience, but little inspiration,” she admitted. “I think I’ll stick to my regular job.”

“Which is?”

“I’m a singer at a club called The Copperhead over in the northern part of the city.”

He whistled, “Place Stalingrad?” At her nod, he frowned, “That could be a little dangerous – it’s a prime spot for drug deals.”

“It’s not that bad and I can take care of myself,” she said firmly. “I haven’t had any problems.”

He let it go, but she could see him still thinking about it. “The Copperhead, huh?” he finally commented. “Historical reference?”

She shook her head, “Nope, it’s just what it sounds like to us Southerners – a really mean snake. The club’s owned by a guy from Kentucky.”

“Hence the appeal,” he guessed. “If you’re a singer, how did you end up working the fashion shows?”

She shrugged, “Tony can’t afford to pay me much for singing and my neighbor is a model. She thought I could use some extra cash and I thought it might be fun.”

“And has it?”

She made a face, “Not really, but if you’re a people watcher, it’s fascinating.”

“I’ll bet,” he said dryly.

“So, what are you doing in Paris?” she asked.

“Oh, my mom’s nuts about designer clothes, so I came over to keep Dad from going bankrupt.”

Mahleah laughed, and his eyes sparkled, “Wow, the ice maiden thaws just a little. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

She shook her head, “Nope, I have to admit you haven’t tried to buy me, bribe me, or fondle me. Keep this up and I might actually ask your name.”

He grinned, “It’s Alex – Alex Coffey. Can you tell me yours?”

“I’m Mahleah,” she took his outstretched hand and shook it firmly, “Mahleah Collins.”

“Mahleah,” he let it roll off his tongue a few times. “I like it – a pretty name for a pretty lady.”

“Ah!” she raised a warning finger. “Watch it with the compliments or I’ll relegate you back to the smooth loser pile.”

“Check, cancel the compliments,” he said in a mock-serious tone. She laughed again.

“Ooh, better and better,” he approved. “So, how about those Vols? Who do you think they’ll replace Manning with?”

“Oh Lord,” she groaned. “You’re talking to the wrong person if you want to discuss football. I’m not a sports fan, I’m afraid. If you want to talk about a Shakespearean sonnet, I’m your girl. If you want to dress up in blaze orange and go to a UT game though, I’m definitely not the person to ask.”

“Damn!” he said lightly. “I knew there had to be a flaw somewhere. You were just too perfect. Well, I suppose I can overlook this one huge character defect if you’ll be kind enough to ignore all of my little ones.”

“Which are?”

He scrunched up his face as if deep in thought, “I’m a spoiled rich kid used to getting his way. My parents adore me and I them. I love my baby sister and love aggravating her even more.” He looked at her steadily, “I’m tired of meeting women with nothing more on their minds than the latest fashions and/or scandals. When I see something I want, I’m willing to put in overtime to get it.”

“Quite a collection,” she observed.

“Think you could deal with them?” he asked.

“Hmmm, one step at a time,” she replied. “You’re doing all right, but don’t try to steal any bases yet.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed smiling, and she had to smile back.

Damn, why did he have to be so likeable?

Chapter Eight

After a couple of hours of conversation, during which time Alex tried to persuade Mahleah to go somewhere more comfortable and she refused, the door between them opened and Michael and Nikita stepped out. Mahleah and Alex rose and the Immortal made the introductions, concluding with, “I’ll see you later, Alex.”

“That’s it?” he asked in surprise.

She raised an eyebrow, “For tonight it is. I’ve been waiting to talk to my friends.” Seeing a small hurt gleam in his eye, she amended that to, “Okay, I’ve been waiting to talk to my old friends. I’ll see you tomorrow and we can continue discussing our new friendship.”

His face lit up, “Where will you be?”

She sighed, “Down the street and behind the scenes as usual. It may be my last night. I’m getting rather tired of this.”

“Until tomorrow then,” he stretched out his hand. She grasped it with her own for a shake, but he raised it and grazed her knuckles with his lips.

“Can’t leave hand-kissing completely up to the Europeans,” he winked and walked away.

Mahleah looked at a quizzical Michael and a dubious Nikita. “We need to talk,” she told them.

“Obviously,” Nikita replied.

They all walked back into the fitting room. After she shut the door, Mahleah began explaining, “I was given an additional profile for this mission. Drakov is really secondary for me – I’m here to back you up if necessary but my primary purpose is to meet Alex Coffey.”

“Mission accomplished,” Nikita observed.

“To what purpose?” Michael asked softly.

“He has been using his money and connections on behalf of a group called Blue Dusk,” Mahleah explained. “I’m to accompany him back to the States and secure as much information about the group as possible before we take him, and hopefully it, out of play.”

“It’s a Valentine Op,” it wasn’t a question and she could hear the underlying tension in Michael’s voice.

“Yes,” she admitted, “but I haven’t been given any specific instructions yet about how to handle him.”

“You mean Madeline hasn’t told you to sleep with him yet?” Nikita interpreted.

“No, she hasn’t,” Mahleah agreed.

“Be careful,” Nikita warned. “This guy reminds me of Alex Chandler and it turned out he was a slaver.”

It relieved Mahleah’s heart to hear Nikita showing concern for her. Relations between them had been a little frosty lately.

“I’ll be on my guard,” she promised.

Michael was silent and she knew he was remembering, as she was, the threat to cancel her if she didn’t cooperate fully with the profiles assigned her.

“Don’t worry, Musashi,” she said to relieve his anxiety. “I’m not planning on getting myself killed. Those two are up to something and I doubt it bodes any of us very well. You and Nikita are going to need all the friends you have.”

******

The next evening she was scanning the crowds when she saw Michael’s posture stiffen and he nodded in her direction. Swiveling, she saw Drakov. It was time to set this thing in motion. Moving through the throng, she deliberately stumbled into the target.

“Oh, excuse me, I’m so sorry,” she apologized. Drakov was concentrating so intently on the way her breasts happened to collide with his chest that he never noticed the tracker that she slipped inside his shirt cuff.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go,” she apologized again and moved away. His eyes followed her and his body might have joined them except for the baleful glare of his girlfriend Lolita who happened to be coming down the runway.

Mahleah sighed. Her part in this profile was complete. After the show, Nikita would give him a fake message from Lolita to meet outside. Instead of the tender embrace of his mistress, he would meet Michael and a Glock .45. In the unlikely event he slipped away, the device she had just planted on him would allow them to track him down. He was as good as tagged and bagged, which left her free to pursue her other assignment with undivided attention.

She made her way backstage and spotted Alex leaning against the wall next to a fitting room.

“I figured this must be the place,” he grinned.

She smiled back. For an alleged terrorist, he certainly was disarmingly friendly. She’d have to keep in mind Nikita’s warning about Chandler.

“Shall we go?” she inquired.

He looked surprised, “Can you leave? The show’s not finished yet.”

She waved a hand airily, “I don’t care. I’ve had all I can take of this stuff. I don’t care if I ever see another model again.”

The words had no sooner flown from her mouth than she saw Rebecca getting ready for one of her turns down the catwalk. She swallowed, “On second thought, I do need to say goodbye to someone. Do you mind?”

“Of course not,” he responded.

She walked over to her favorite person from this horrible mission.

“Hey Mahleah, who’s the cute guy?” Rebecca asked.

“Just a charmer that I met yesterday. I’m leaving for some dinner with him.”

Rebecca frowned, “The show’s not over yet. Won’t you get into trouble?”

“No,” she told the teenager, “because I just quit.”

Rebecca was quiet for a long moment before she said, “I can’t say I’m too surprised. You’ve been miserable here. I am going to miss you, though.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Mahleah said, with a heavy heart.

They hugged and Mahleah asked, “Hey, promise me something, huh?”

“What?”

“Promise that you won’t let this business change you into something you’re not.”

“I’m sixteen,” Rebecca protested. “I can’t help but change.”

“Absolutely,” Mahleah agreed, “but let the changes reflect your journey to discover who you are and not what others want you to be.”

“Okay, I promise,” Rebecca said solemnly, then shook her finger, “but you have to do the same. No matter where you go, stay true to yourself.”

Mahleah refrained from looking back at Alex. She intended to tell him tonight that she had recently experienced an incredibly painful breakup and so she wanted to take things slow. It might not suit Madeline’s timetable, but she needed to work up to the idea of him touching her.

“I’ll try,” she told her young friend. “I’ll certainly do my best.”

Chapter Nine

Something was up and it didn’t feel right, Tony thought. Mahleah had been very quiet lately…when she showed up at all. He had put her strange behavior down to her understandable sorrow after losing MacLeod and her strange, damnable bosses who sent her to do their dirty work.

This evening though, she had walked in dressed to the nines. That was odd in and of itself, as Mahleah was very much a jeans, boots and jackets kind of girl. Tonight she wore an ankle-length dress, heels, and make-up. Her friend Nikita showed up – she hadn’t been around in weeks – without the redoubtable Michael. Trailing behind her was a blond good-looking guy that Tony would have assumed was her newest boyfriend except that the chemistry between them seemed remarkably dull. It was hard to imagine her replacing the visible electricity she’d had with Michael, especially with this fellow. When he’d seen the way the stranger looked at Mahleah, he’d realized that Nikita had merely ridden in with him. His attention was completely riveted on the Copperhead’s main attraction.

This was even more bizarre. Mahleah was dating again already? He thought perhaps he should cheer, but he couldn’t. Something just wasn’t right. The more he studied the situation the more a knot formed in the bottom of his stomach. Mahleah was not being herself. Oh, it wasn’t openly obvious, but he had spent a lot of time around her in the past few months. He’d seen the way she acted around many men and she’d never behaved this way before. She was skirting a fine line between being hard to get and being downright seductive. It sent alarm bells throughout Tony’s body as he concluded that this wasn’t love it was a mission.

Whoever Alexander Coffey was, Mahleah’s bosses wanted something from him and she was to see to it. He swallowed, what was it they called this? A valentine mission. He’d never dreamed he’d see Mahleah engaged in such a questionable activity. He felt sorry for the poor guy.

Of course, Alex Coffey seemed to be having the time of his life. He had no clue that she was putting on an act worthy of several awards, but then he’d never had the chance of observing her when she was really in love either. Comparing her now with the way she was with MacLeod was like the difference in seeing a hologram or actually standing next to a real fire. Instead of the beautiful simulation, she was putting forth now, all flash and no real heat, in the past she’d been consumed by the intensity of the flames. Love wasn’t pretty – it was ugly and beautiful, sane and insane, and above all real. The charade she was putting on now was as lovely as a forged Monet. He shuddered. Is this what she’d been sent to do to his son?

Well, Alex Coffey could never say he hadn’t been warned. The band, inspired by her unusual get-up, had given her a brief introduction by playing a few bars of “American Woman” with Seth proclaiming, “American Woman stay away from me….” They’d instinctively known something was wrong too.

Tony had never dreamed that Mahleah could lie in her music – it just never seemed possible that she could. Yet, when she sang “Sooner or Later” in a deliberately husky voice to her new beau, he’d thought he could throw up. No, Alex couldn’t say she hadn’t warned him.

Sooner or later you’re going to be mine

Sooner or later you’re going to be fine

Baby it’s time that you faced it

I always get my man

The song didn’t make him angry -- it was her actions. She played the vamp, not with a wink the way she would have before, but with a slightly overdone sensuality, that never made it into those dark eyes. Alex was caught hook, line, and sucker. It was written all over his face, and in his body language. Too bad he’ll never know he’s only getting half a woman until it’s too late, Tony thought bitterly.

Even her friend Nikita, who he guessed must have had to perform similar missions in the past, seemed a little taken aback by Mahleah’s performance. Oh, it was a classy production. It put her up there with the great courtesans: Mata Hari, Thais, and all the others who earned their living through seduction and lies.

Just when Tony couldn’t bear to look at her any longer, she managed to surprise him with a moment of total honesty. Ignoring her fashionable evening attire, she kicked off the heels, grabbed a guitar, and began strumming. Just when I accuse her of being fake, he thought, she draws down deep from her soul and shows me the pain she’s feeling.

No one knows what it’s like

To be the bad man

To be the sad man

Behind blue eyes

No one knows what’s it’s like

To be hated

To be fated

To telling only lies

Oh, Mahleah, he thought sadly, what are they doing to you? This is the first moment that you’ve actually been in the building all night.

But my dreams

They aren’t as empty

As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely

My love is vengeance

That’s never free

The band, reassured by this reversion to the woman they knew, grew comfortable beside her and stopped telegraphing their own playing. Her voice was sad, passionate, angry, and more than a little defiant. Her eyes blazed with the freedom of revealing, if only for a moment, her true self.

No one knows what it’s like

To feel these feelings

Like I do

And I blame you

No one bites back as hard

On their anger

None of my pain and woe

Can show through

But my dreams

They aren’t as empty

As my conscience seems to be

He noticed with a start that Nikita’s eyes were gleaming with unshed tears. Was this her empathy at work, or rather her own identification with both the lyrics and the performance? What lay behind those blue eyes, he wondered. She seemed to find this song even more painful than Mahleah whose voice conveyed catharsis not agony.

When my fist clenches, crack it open

Before I use it and lose my cool

When I smile, tell me some bad news

Before I laugh and act like a fool

If I swallow anything evil

Put your finger down my throat

If I shiver, please give me a blanket

Keep me warm, let me wear your coat

No one knows what it’s like

To be the bad man

To be the sad man

Behind blue eyes

No, he agreed, I don’t know what it’s like, but I do know you and I hate that you’re doing this to yourself. He wondered how lover boy had liked the song, but his heart sank when he saw Alex. Instead of seeing the warning she’d been doing her best to give him, he seemed more smitten than ever. Of course, he does, Tony reflected. He was already toppling down the path and catching a glimpse of the woman behind the mask pushed him firmly down the road. Ironically, in dropping her act, Mahleah had committed an even bigger sin. She’d allowed him a glimpse of something he’d never be able to touch.

He watched as she walked over to Alex’s table, all smiles, and witty remarks. They laughed together before Alex looked more serious and began talking. Her reactions were masterful. She appeared engrossed in what he had to say, then shook her head and looked over at the bar as if to indicate himself. Alex was insisting on whatever suggestion he had. She looked doubtful, but then nodded and rose.

When she walked over to him, Tony knew she was going to tell him she’d be leaving, and so wasn’t surprised when she said, “I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with Seth for a while, Tony.”

“Why?” He didn’t look at her.

“I have to go to Tennessee it seems, with Alex over there.” She looked back and smiled at the man in question.

“Enjoying yourself?” Tony asked with a touch of acid in his tone.

She looked at him, startled. “I’m not with Mac any more, so it’s not like I’m cheating. What’s your problem, Tony?”

“If you were in here with Walter, or Michael or Birkoff, I’d rejoice. If you told me you were going off with one of them, if it were Michael I’d feel sorry for that lady sitting over there, but I’d wish you Bon Voyage. This guy, though…. Mahleah, the only thing you feel for him is sympathy because you’re setting him up.”

She grabbed his arm, “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to someone who’s seen you with Mac,” he told her with regret. “I wish for this guy’s sake, he’d had the privilege.”

She leaned in and whispered angrily, “I know he looks pretty and he seems awfully nice, Tony, but he’s a terrorist. Now, I’ll be back when I can.”

He grabbed her arm and whispered back, “Fine, but you look pretty and seem awfully nice, too, Mahleah. So tell me, what exactly does that make you?”

She swallowed, and he saw her defenses go up. She raised her chin, looked him coolly in the eye, and said, “I am what I have to be, Tony.”

She walked off, leaving his thoughts to run on all the possible disasters that lay in the future.

Chapter Ten

Malcolm Coffey paused at the door to Duncan’s rental car. “Are you certain you don’t want to come with me to the airport?” he asked.

MacLeod shook his head, “No, you should spend some time with your family. I’ll be back later this evening.”

Malcolm pursed his lips, “Well, I must admit to feeling a great deal of curiosity about this girl Alex is bringing with him. It’s not often he brings one home to meet his old man. The way he describes her she must be one in a million.”

His old friend gave him a knowing smile, “She always is, when a man’s in love.”

“True,” Malcolm agreed. “So hurry back. It will be interesting to see this whirlwind romance. I told you Paris is a great city for falling in love.”

Duncan’s eyes clouded over for a moment, “It’s wonderful for breaking your heart too.”

The other man put his hand on Duncan’s shoulder, “Whoever she was, she was crazy to let you go, my friend. You obviously loved her very much.”

Duncan licked his lips, “You’re letting your imagination run away with you again, Malcolm. I’m fine – there’s no mysterious woman in my past.” His eyes twinkled, “Lately.”

Malcolm smiled, “Whatever you say, Mac. Just don’t let the sight of two lovebirds drive you away. If we have to we’ll take off on a fishing trip or something if they get too nauseating.”

“Deal,” the Scot climbed into his car, preparing to spend the day in the city.

******

Mahleah sat in the plane, pretending to be asleep. Her thoughts were racing. How could she go through with this? Why couldn’t Alex see that she was only going through the motions?

Her particular brand of friendly flirting and reserve had worked with him. She still hadn’t slept with him, but she knew that couldn’t be further off. The first time they’d kissed, her mind had gone on a mental vacation and let her mouth act on its own. Surely, she could do the same with sex as well. He was an attractive man and she enjoyed his company. Maybe he wasn’t the love of her life, but neither was Walter and she’d had a blissful affair with him. What was different here?

An inner voice wouldn’t let her buy that logic though. She and Walter had been friends and still were. It made a big difference. She couldn’t really be friends with Alex because he didn’t know the real her. Nearly every word she spoke to him was a lie if not in content than in intent. Then, of course, there was always the fact that she had to betray him eventually.

How could she manage to get through this?

********

Michael sat in his office looking over the profile of a mission he hoped would provide him with the opportunity to be with Nikita. With Walter’s assistance, he would get the details on her panel and they could use Dark Approach to avoid the ever-present eyes of Section.

He nearly hesitated, knowing how big a chance they would be taking. In the end though, life with her, however long he could manage it, was worth the gamble. What right did Madeline or Operations have to arbitrarily decide that they would no longer be allowed to see each other? They risked their lives every day on behalf of Section, surely it wasn’t wrong to expect in return, the right to have some semblance of a normal life? Maybe they could never settle down and have 2.5 children and a dog, but they could have each other.

Of course, if Nikita didn’t want to take the risk he wouldn’t push it. She had to want to be with him as much as he with her for it to make any sort of sense. It wasn’t worth putting her life in danger if she wasn’t as committed to him as he was to her. He would understand if she wasn’t, and accept her decision. If she wanted this as badly as he did, however, then he would move heaven and earth to see that someday, somehow they would have a better solution than meeting on the sly like this.

He absently wondered how Mahleah was doing on her mission. Valentine work was not exactly suited for her temperament. She was too passionate, too honorable…she would hate herself for what she was doing. It was undoubtedly the very reason Madeline had given her the assignment. It was an attempt to eat away at her self-esteem and make her more malleable to the whims of Section. He hoped like hell that they didn’t succeed.

Chapter Eleven

Mahleah’s nervousness about meeting the rest of Alex’s family vanished after she met Malcolm Coffey. A big man, he loomed over both her and his son who was a couple of inches shorter than Mahleah.

“This is Miss Collins, I assume,” he said with a pleasant voice and kissed her hand.

She looked at Alex, “Well, I see where you got that habit.”

“Good to know he picked up something I tried to teach him,” Malcolm chuckled. “Sit down, my dear, and tell me about yourself.”

She sat and wondered what to say. “What would you like to know?” she asked.

“Anything, everything. I’ve never seen Alex so happy before and I want to know more about the object of his affection than the fact that she’s lovely. Collins, is that an Irish name?”

“Yes,” she answered. Going on the old adage that it’s best for a liar to stick as closely as possible to the truth, she continued, “My dad comes from an Irish family and my mom was a Scot.”

“Hmmm, I guess that makes you doubly Celtic. Tell us about your mom.”

She swallowed, “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much. She died when I was a little girl.”

His blue-gray eyes gazed at her compassionately, “I’m sorry to hear that. What about your father?”

“He fell apart after Mom died. He started drinking and then one day he shot himself.”

Alex took her hand and squeezed it. Malcolm’s face was concerned.

“How old were you?” he asked.

“Twelve,” she answered. “After that I went to live with my grandparents.”

Malcolm sighed, “Let’s talk about something more pleasant. Alex tells me you’re a singer.”

“You should hear her, Dad. She’s got the best voice I’ve ever heard.”

“As if you’re any sort of impartial judge,” Malcolm smiled. “So, young lady what kinds of music do you like?”

“Many different kinds,” she answered honestly.

“Dad doesn’t think it’s music if it’s not Motown,” Alex laughed.

“I like Motown,” Mahleah said easily.

“You’ll have to sing for me one day,” Malcolm declared. “Now, Alex, why don’t you take her out and show her around the place until dinner is ready. Make sure you’re not terribly late,” he added. “I have a surprise for you.”

“What is it?”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you,” he scolded his son. “Now, get out of here. It’s much too pretty to stay indoors.”

******

As they walked outside, Alex puzzled over his father’s big surprise. “I’m guessing he’s invited someone special to dinner,” he decided. “In fact, I think he had an old friend staying with him while we were in Paris.”

“So the old friend could be the surprise,” she concluded.

“Unless Marie slipped in a day early,” he suggested.

She linked an arm with his, “Tell me more about your sister.”

“Well, she’s a senior at Vanderbilt majoring in psychology. She works very hard, but when she decides to cut loose, she plays hard too. Mom’s going to have a tough time keeping her out of her new clothes.” He paused. “If the old friend is the person I’m thinking of Marie will have a fit. She’s had a crush on him for the longest time.” He glanced at Mahleah, “If it’s him, I might want to keep an eye on you as well.”

She laughed, “Why?”

“Well, as I recall he was a very handsome man – at least that’s what I’ve heard all the females around here say. They were always swooning over him. It’s been five years or so since we’ve seen him, though, maybe he’s gotten fat and wrinkled.”

She took his hand and squeezed it, “Don’t worry Alex,” she said lightly. “I’m hunk-proof.”

With a start, she remembered the long-ago conversation she’d had with Michael about this very topic. It was true that a pretty face was not her downfall – she was more a sucker for complex, broody types, she thought mockingly. In which case poor Alex didn’t stand a chance.

“What?” he asked with amusement.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” she didn’t want to go through the same lines she had with Musashi. It felt too personal, too intimate to get into with a man she had to betray. “I’ve met a lot of good-looking guys in my life. They have to have more than that going for them.”

He raised their joined hands to his lips, “I’m so glad you’re picky. To be fair though, this guy always had more going for him than looks – he’s genuinely nice. It’ll be good to see him again.”

“I look forward to meeting him,” she said warmly.

*******

When MacLeod returned, he found Malcolm in high spirits.

“Ah, there you are, Mac,” he said exuberantly. “My boy has brought home a delightful girl. Easy on the eyes, but with fire and intelligence in her face. Quite tall, I must say.”

Wonderful, Duncan thought. Someone to remind him of all he had recently lost.

“Yes, I think Miss Collins will liven this place up. It will be good to have young people around for the weekend.”

“Miss Collins, huh? You sound like you have a bit of a yen for her yourself,” Mac joked.

Malcolm smiled, “Oh, if I were a few years younger and single, of course, I’d give Alex a run for his money.” He scrutinized his old friend. “I’d say Alex will find your presence a little unnerving around his new sweetheart. You’ve always had the devil’s own luck with women.”

Duncan laughed, “Alex can rest easy. I have no interest in stealing his new girlfriend.”

Malcolm’s wife, Laura, came into the room. She was stylishly dressed as befitted a woman who’d just returned from the shows at Paris, but her eyes held only friendly delight not polite reserve when she saw Duncan.

“Mac, I’m glad you returned. It’s been so long since we’ve seen you.”

He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “It’s good to see you Laura. You’re looking as beautiful as ever.”

She gave a little laugh, “And you’re as charming as ever even if you need glasses. I’m not so young any more.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful,” he said warmly.

“I was worried about the wrong woman it seems,” Malcolm smiled. “You’re going after my wife.”

They all laughed as Duncan protested, “I’m not trying to go after anyone.”

They heard voices in the hall, and Duncan stiffened as he felt the warning tingle of an approaching Immortal. Alex Coffey came through the door with his arm wrapped around the shoulder of a woman. He was giving her a kiss on the cheek and she was laughing, but her eyes were scanning the room for him. They met his and shock coursed through his nerves down to his toes.

Alex pulled away from her to grab Duncan’s hand and slap him on the back.

“Mac, it’s so good to see you,” he beamed. “Let me introduce you to Mahleah Collins.”

Collins, he thought dully, as she masked her surprise and held out her hand.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr.….” She trailed off.

“Mahleah, this is Duncan MacLeod,” Alex announced cheerily. “He’s a dear old friend of the family. Call him Mac, we all do.”

She nodded politely, “It’s so good to meet you, Mac. Alex has told me so much about you.”

He wanted to laugh, cry, or scream, anything but the words that finally came from his lips, “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Collins.”

Chapter Twelve

Mahleah’s mind was reeling so much from the shock of seeing Duncan again and preventing him from blowing her cover that she hardly knew what she was saying. When the room finally clicked back into focus, she remembered her comment about Alex saying so much about him. Everything but the most important point, she thought grimly, like his damn name.

Somehow she had managed to pull off the feat of pretending it was the first time they’d met, and after the initial shock, he’d played along. She could feel his eyes watching her though – assessing, analyzing, searching for an explanation for her appearance. Without looking at him, she could tell he disapproved.

Alex was telling his parents the story of how he had met her when Mac silently glided up beside her.

“Miss Collins?” he asked in a very low voice.

“That’s right,” she matched his whisper. “What are you doing here?”

“I was ordered to leave Paris, remember? Besides, I’m an old friend of the family. More to the point, what are you doing here?”

She was saved from a reply by the abrupt entry of a small blonde young woman that Mahleah assumed was Marie. She was giving Alex a hug when she spotted MacLeod.

“Duncan!” she cried and flew across the room to embrace him.

“Little Marie,” he smiled.

“Oh, I’m all grown up now,” she declared with a wink, “and I’ve been waiting for you.”

Mahleah raised an eyebrow, upon which he offered Alex’s petite sister his arm, “Shall I escort you to dinner then?” he inquired.

“Absolutely.”

Alex approached Mahleah, “Not to be a copycat, but shall we?”

She took his arm and they all moved towards the dining room.

“After dinner,” he was telling her, “we can dance on the terrace. It’s the night before the full moon – should be romantic.”

“Sounds wonderful,” she agreed, her heart sinking.

********

True to his word, Alex led them out to the terrace after their meal where he had a stereo system waiting. Marie immediately asked Duncan to dance, and Alex’s parents chose to join them. As she followed Alex’s lead, Mahleah tried desperately to keep her eyes off Duncan but every now and then, she couldn’t resist sneaking a peek. Marie seemed to be having the time of her life and Mac showed no signs of not reciprocating the feeling.

Dancing with Alex seemed a little awkward. Normally she might not have noticed the difference in their heights, but Duncan’s proximity made her too aware of all the ways her target was not the man she loved.

She found herself irrationally hating Marie – as if she was the problem that was keeping Mahleah out of Mac’s arms. I hope he gets a crick in his neck looking down at her, she thought spitefully, and then hated herself for it.

Alex walked away to change the music, and Duncan came up to her, “May I have this next dance, Miss Collins?”

“Of course, Mac,” she consented.

He led her away from Alex and the others and as the music started, put his arms around her. Once Mahleah recognized the song, though, she felt like killing Alex. It was a U2 song, “The Ground Beneath Her Feet,” and the last time she had heard it she and Mac had been making love.

All my life, I worshipped her

Her golden voice, her beauty’s beat

How she made us feel

How she made me real

And the ground beneath her feet

And the ground beneath her feet

She knew from the tension in his body that he remembered as well. What had possessed Alex to pick this band or this song?

“So, Miss Collins, why is it too dangerous to be with me and yet you’re here in Tennessee with Alex and his family?” he asked.

His voice was low, but she could hear the anger and hurt in his voice. He hasn’t figured it out yet she was amazed to discover. He thinks I’ve chosen to be with Alex over him. Jealousy was clouding his mind from remembering that there were other issues at stake.

“Your life was in danger, remember?” she answered.

“And his isn’t?” he immediately riposted.

“Yes, but for activities much less innocent,” she informed him.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded.

“Alex is supplying money and men to a group called Blue Dusk,” she said sadly, knowing how this information would hurt him.

Dismay filled his dark brown eyes as he realized the implications of her statement.

And now I can’t be sure of anything

Black is white, and cold is heat

For what I worshipped stole my love away

It was the ground beneath her feet

It was the ground beneath her feet

“Alex is a terrorist?” he asked in disbelief. “Impossible, I’ve known him all his life.”

She stared at him solemnly, “It’s why I’ve been sent in.”

“So, this is a mission for you? He’s falling in love with you, and it’s only a mission?” his tone of outrage struck a nerve.

“You’d rather this were for real?” she hissed.

He wouldn’t meet her eyes, “Yes.”

Go lightly down your darkened way

Go lightly underground

I’ll be down there in another day

I won’t rest until you’re found

“Liar, you can’t mean that.”

He looked back at her, “Yes, I do. It’s less painful to me to know that our romantic relationship is over, than to see you pervert your own code of ethics. I thought this was what you stayed behind to change.”

She bit back tears, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t want to know,” he said intently.

She was silent. Knowing they couldn’t quarrel about this here, she closed her eyes to enjoy the momentary sensation of being near him. She could smell his unique scent wafting across her nostrils, and unconsciously licked her lips. The muscles in his back and arms moved under her fingertips below the soft fabric of his shirt.

Let me love you true, let me rescue you

Let me bring you to where two roads meet

O come back above

Where there’s only love

And the ground beneath her feet

And the ground beneath her feet

“Hey,” he said a little roughly.

She opened her eyes to find an inscrutable expression on his face, “What?”

“You’re dancing too easily with me. If we’ve never met before we shouldn’t be this comfortable together, and if you’re the new love of Alex Coffey’s life then you don’t need to be looking at me like that.”

She nodded slowly, “Thank you, I can’t afford to blow my cover.” Inside she was screaming. Bloody man, can’t you at least let me enjoy the moment. This could be our last dance ever, and you have to ruin it.

The song finally finished to her relief. She saw Alex walking to them, and stepped away from Mac saying, “Thank you so much for the dance.”

Alex put an arm around her and looked at MacLeod, “Hey, Mac, watch out or I’ll think you have dishonorable intentions.”

Mac smiled, as he politely denied, “Not me, Alex.” He walked away.

“You were looking rather cozy there,” Alex commented.

“He’s a very good dancer,” Mahleah said easily, “but that’s all. Somehow I get the impression he doesn’t like me very much.”

“Good, I hope now that he’s been polite, I’ll have you to myself for the rest of the night.” He pulled her close for a slow dance.

The song playing sunk into her consciousness like a lead anvil. It was another U2 song. Was someone out there trying to torture her? Bono crooned, and her heart ached.

I have a lover

A lover like no other

She’s got soul, soul, soul sweet soul

And she teach me how to sing.

Shows me colors when there’s none to see

Gives me hope when I can’t believe

That for the first time I feel love.

“You’ve really got a thing for U2,” she said lightly in his ear.

He pulled away from her looking a bit startled, “Me? But I thought you loved them?”

“Who told you that?”

“Tony did, before we left the club the other night,” he was puzzled. “Aren’t they your favorite band?”

She shrugged, “I can take or leave them. He was playing a joke on you, no doubt, for stealing his lead singer.”

“I can understand,” he stroked her cheek. “It would be hard to lose you.”

He bent in to kiss her, and beyond him, she could see Duncan’s gaze upon them. With a shudder that Alex mistook for desire, she closed her eyes and let him part her lips. If I can get through this, she told herself, the worst part would be over. If I can kiss him with Duncan watching then it can’t possibly get any worse. She tried to send her mind away, but it refused to cooperate this time. She could still feel the heat of Mac’s gaze, the fire of his anger, the sting of his contempt.

She pulled away, and Tony asked, “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head. “I’m just not comfortable kissing in front of everyone.”

“That’s okay,” he ran his fingers over her hair. “We can wait until everyone’s gone to bed.”

She smiled her agreement; glad that he couldn’t read her heart.

*******

Upstairs in her room, her cell-phone rang nearly as soon as she walked in the door. Thank goodness, she was alone.

“Yes,” she answered. It was Madeline.

“Is everything going according to profile?”

“Yes, so far,” she lied.

“Are you sleeping with him yet?”

“No,” she said, having a bad feeling about the course of the conversation.

“Why not?”

“I told him I recently experienced a painful breakup and wished to take things slowly,” she explained. “It fits in well with the strategy I’ve been using to attract him.”

“That would work at first,” Madeline conceded, “but drawn out too long, it could lose his interest. Complete the profile, Mahleah, that’s an order.”

“Perhaps tomorrow night would be a better time,” she started to say, but Madeline cut her off.

“Tonight is best. You should remember the consequences of your actions might not affect you alone.”

“What do you mean?” she demanded.

“I’m afraid Walter has gotten himself into a bit of trouble by assisting Michael and Nikita to arrange clandestine meetings. We haven’t been able to prove they’ve met, but we do have evidence that he’s passed along secret instructions from one to the other. Operations hasn’t decided how to punish him yet.”

Mahleah ground her teeth together before speaking, “Don’t do anything to him. I’m not rocking the boat.” Yet, she mentally added.

“Very good,” Madeline approved, and hung up.

Mahleah hung her head. Time had just run out.

**********

She walked slowly down the hall. Her hair was hanging loosely down the back of her robe. She might have to sleep with Alex, but she still couldn’t let him unbind her hair. She hadn’t even allowed Walter to do that.

A few feet from Alex’s door, she felt a touch on her shoulder and turned. MacLeod was standing behind her. She closed her eyes from the accusing look she saw. “Mac,” she whispered sadly.

“Mahleah,” he acknowledged. “Where are you going?”

She shook her head, “Don’t be coy, Mac, you know where I’m going and what I’m going to do.”

She started back down the hall, but again the touch of his hand made her pause. This time she didn’t turn, but just stood stock-still.

“Don’t do this, mhurninn,” he said softly.

Pain washed over her so intensely that it appeared deeply, lushly reddish-purple behind her eyelids. She wanted to wrap herself in it and disappear. Could she just stop being herself for a while? Just check out and leave all the decisions to someone else while she escaped from the drama of being the Immortal named Mahleah, Section One operative level three.

“Please,” his voice quivered, and his touch on her arm trembled.

Of course, she couldn’t. With a sigh, she opened her eyes and said, “I do what I must.”

As she knocked on the door, she heard his bitter final words, “The same consolation every whore uses to allow herself to sleep at night.”

The door swung open, and she smiled brightly at Alex, “May I come in?”

“Of course,” he said warmly, and she moved past him, not glancing into the shadows for a last look at her lover who could only stand silently as the door closed.

Chapter Thirteen

Michael studied Nikita’s face in profile as she slept in a seat across the plane from him. He had endeavored to allay her concerns about this mission but his own inner senses warned him they were moving into a trap.

This morning he had intended to say that they should pull back and resume the physical side of their relationship once the intense scrutiny of Madeline and Operations was attracted to someone, or something, else. Their emotional bond could survive, he felt, without the luxury of lovemaking. It had, indeed, endured for years without such contact or even the solace of understanding each other’s feelings.

Yet, when she had suggested the very thing he’d thought he wanted, he found himself unable to pull back. He’d known she was right, but he’d also instinctively felt that she was hoping he’d find a way around the problem. He sighed. The truth was that after years of suppressing his needs, his desire to be with her increased every time he looked into her sky-blue eyes.

Instead of saying, yes you’re right, we should maintain a discreet distance from each other, he’d kissed her, and promised to find a way for them to meet on this mission.

He would keep that promise, but he was left wondering what price they would have to pay for temporary happiness.

Just what lay beyond the doors of the Genefex labs?

*******

MacLeod lay on his bed all night without closing his eyes. Images constantly tumbled through his brain – conjured from both memory and imagination. Mahleah looking at him with that special glow in her eyes that told him more than words could say how she felt for him. Mahleah, at age 14, her head tossed back, challenging him in the flamenco even better than she did with a sword. Mahleah, her fingers laced in his hair, her own scattered across the pillow in a seemingly endless wave, pulling him out of a kiss to say…

He bit his lip impatiently. He’d deliberately shut off the tide of memories but that was when his imagination kicked into overdrive. He saw her once again – in Alex’s bed, whispering soft words into his ears, kissing him with those silky lips and pulling him out of an embrace to say…what?

He’d never thought of himself as a particularly jealous man, but this was choking him. Perhaps he was wrong. The closest thing he could compare it to was earlier in the summer when he’d seen her with Angel. There’d been a certain look in her eyes that he would never forget. He felt invisible fingers clutching his windpipe and a great-unseen force sitting on his chest.

He could tell himself that at least she didn’t love Alex, but that didn’t make him feel any better. Although Alex was his least favorite person in the world now, he had more than an inkling of the pain the young man would experience when he learned the truth about the situation.

What hurt him the most was the pain she was putting herself through. Despite her occasionally risqué behavior, Mahleah had never had sex wantonly. She’d always had a close bond with her partners – she’d loved all of them even if she wasn’t in love with them. With Alex, though, she couldn’t allow herself to form a deep bond because it would conflict with her assignment.

Involuntarily another image appeared. This time, he saw Alex reaching his climax as Mahleah pretended to reach her own. He saw Alex lying on her breast half-asleep, unaware of the suspicious glistening in her eyes.

MacLeod rose. It was starting to get light outside. He would go for a run – maybe the activity would erase his mind and ease this lump in his throat, which felt far too much like unshed tears.

********

Mahleah lay watching the night sky begin to lighten. Alex was curled up against her back with one of his arms slung carelessly across her body.

It’s odd, she thought in a detached way. I felt closer to Michael on the nights when we slept like this and he dreamed of Nikita than I do now with this man whom I’ve actually had sex with. I guess our friendship has always been based on things that I can’t share with Alex: respect, trust, and genuinely honest laughter. The only secret I’ve ever really had from Michael is my Immortality, which he partly knows about, while Alex knows practically nothing about the person I really am.

What does that say about you, Mahleah, when your platonic friends know more about you than your lover? Have you truly become the whore that Mac branded you?

Red-hot pain seared through her head at the recollection. Tension headache, she realized. I’m doing quite well, she thought mirthlessly. I’m an Immortal who is so stressed out I’m giving myself a headache and thinking about myself in the third person so I can distance myself from the events of the past few hours – try to pretend they happened to some other woman.

Unfortunately, they didn’t happen to someone else. They happened to me. You know, I never realized before tonight how much I need emotional closeness to my lovers. Without that bond, it’s just the mechanics of two people rubbing each other’s bodies. Without passion, kissing is reduced to a rather disgusting procedure where a man sticks his tongue in your mouth and you’re expected to like it, as for the other…well best not to think about it.

Alex had slept like the proverbial baby, while she’d closed her eyes only to simulate sleep for his benefit. Now the dead weight of his arm began to annoy her. Why couldn’t he have been the kind of man who rolled over to his side of the bed and curled up to his pillow instead of wanting to cuddle with her? While basking in the afterglow was usually something she enjoyed, it was even more unbearably intimate with Alex than the act of sex itself, and so she’d faked exhaustion.

She felt a sudden claustrophobia. The room seemed to be shrinking with every blink of her eyes, and their bed was getting smaller with every passing second. She had to leave before she started screaming hysterically.

She gently but firmly pushed Alex’s arm away and slipped out of bed. She was donning her robe when he sleepily opened his eyes.

“Hey,” he said hoarsely, “Where are you going?”

She cinched her belt tightly around her waist. “I thought I’d go for a run,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Lord, you have energy for jogging at this hour of the morning?” he groaned.

“It’s quite refreshing,” she lied. Not a morning person herself, she’d normally never rise this early for a workout. Today, though, it seemed like a blessed escape.

“Shall I come with you?” he made fumbling motions as if to rise.

She pushed him back down. “No,” she said soothingly. “It’s okay, go back to sleep and I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Luckily, it didn’t take much persuasion. She could hear him softly snoring as she turned the doorknob.

She headed to her room. It was a tossup, which she wanted more: a hot shower or a long run. Eventually her overwhelming need to get out of the house won out and she changed into shorts, tee shirt and running shoes. Pulling her hair into a quick ponytail, she left as quickly as possible.

********

Outside the exercise allowed her to blissfully go blank for a time and just concentrate on moving and breathing. It was lovely here in the morning. The birds were beginning to sing already and it was a pleasant temperature. She was starting to enjoy a brief moment of freedom when she felt the tingle of an Immortal and saw Duncan coming toward her.

God, she thought, I’m not ready for this.

They both stopped a few paces from each other and stared silently. She could think of nothing to say.

Finally she told him, “If you’re just waiting to call me more names, please leave. I couldn’t take that this morning.”

His face softened and she saw sorrow in his liquid gaze. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

She laughed without amusement, “Sure, I’m Immortal, remember? All bruises heal quickly.”

He took an involuntary step forward, “He hurt you?”

“No, I was speaking facetiously. He was very gentle actually – treated me as if I were fragile.”

“You realize this is going to destroy his family, don’t you?” a thread of anger had crept back into his voice.

She crossed her arms, “Well, maybe Alex should have thought of that before he got involved with Blue Dusk.”

“If he’s involved,” he countered. “Your bosses aren’t the most reliable people in the world. Perhaps this is all some sort of test they’re putting you through.”

“It probably is,” she agreed. “They like to run psychological profiles on us while we’re on assignment. That doesn’t mean the job’s not real.”

“Mahleah, the Coffey’s are good people. I’ve known Malcolm for years. You like him, I can tell – just think of the grief you’re going to inflict upon him.”

Her arms moved to her hips and she cocked an eyebrow, “What about the grief Alex inflicts upon the families of his victims? Why aren’t you pleading for them?”

She was visibly angry now, but he persisted, “Do you have any idea how Alex is going to feel when you betray him?”

“Actually I do. Betrayal by a lover is something I know all too well, or are you forgetting about Kenneth, the boyfriend that tried to bleed me to death?”

He opened his mouth, but she interrupted before he could speak, “I’ve been awfully patient because I knew this was hurting you, but you know what? I’m beginning to think it’s nothing more than ego. You’re outraged that I could go so quickly from your arms to another man’s. I guess I was supposed to be in deep mourning and vow chastity until the far off day when the two of us might get back together? Well, I’ve got news for you my bonnie Highlander – it doesn’t work that way. I’m so sorry that I’m not crying off in some corner all alone and inconsolable but that’s the way it is.” She stepped very close to him, “One more thing. Don’t ever call me a whore again.”

She ran past him, eager to have more distance between herself and the mess she was stuck in.

Chapter Fourteen

Breakfast was tortuous for Duncan. He endured the hearty friendliness of Malcolm, the amiability of Laura, and the flirtatiousness of Marie with good grace although he felt like a traitor at their table. He could barely look at Alex and Mahleah, both of who smiled, laughed, and communicated like the new lovers they now were.

To his relief, Alex decided to take Mahleah and Marie out for the day. They planned to go to the aquarium and the Imax theatre and stop on the way back at a carnival that had moved in just down the road. Tonight Malcolm had a dinner party planned, so there was less chance of his having to see Mahleah.

He’d seriously considered leaving but ultimately decided that he owed it to the family to see them through the fallout Mahleah’s eventual departure would inevitably create. He suppressed any notion that he would stay for her. She had made that plain enough.

He was browsing through the books in the library and hoping that they would leave soon when Malcolm walked in with a contemplative look on his face.

“So old friend,” he began casually. “What were you doing in Paris?”

Duncan kept his tone as light as Malcolm’s, “I have a barge on the Seine and keep my eye out for antiques for clients. I don’t own a shop now, but I occasionally take commissions to acquire objects for collectors I know.”

“Sounds interesting,” Malcolm sat down in one of the comfortable reading chairs. “Tell me, was Mahleah a client or a collector’s item?”

He started involuntarily, “What are you talking about, Malcolm?”

“There’s been a strange vibe between the two of you since your first meeting. You tend to watch each other when you think no one’s looking. I might have put it down to your legendary charm but there’s a lot of anger between you as well. Then, of course, there’s the way the two of you dance together as if you’ve done so for years. She’s the reason you left Paris, isn’t she? She’s the ex-girlfriend you refuse to talk about.”

Duncan’s mind was whirling. What should he do? If he admitted the relationship, it would raise many questions. He could tell Malcolm everything he knew and perhaps the two of them could figure out what to do about Alex. Yet if he did and the boy really was a terrorist how many lives would he be endangering, and any mention of Section could very well put the whole family in jeopardy. For that matter, how many of Mahleah’s friends would suffer for her failure? What would happen to her?

He looked at Malcolm steadily, “I can honestly say that I’d never met Mahleah Collins until you introduced us. She’s a complete stranger to me.”

To herself as well, he suspected.

***********

After escaping the strained atmosphere around MacLeod, Mahleah had a pleasant day until she met the gypsy woman. They had spent hours covering every inch of the aquarium and enjoying the multitude of children oohing and awing over the sharks and other large fish. After lunch, they had gone over to the Imax Theatre to watch some 3-D movies. They were pleasant enough, but again the schoolchildren sitting in the row in front of her buoyed Mahleah’s spirits. They would inevitably reach out to grab whatever seemed to float by their heads and laugh with delight to discover thin air.

The only disturbing note during the day was the way Marie kept watching Mahleah surreptitiously as if expecting her to commit some egregious faux pas during the course of the day. She wasn’t sure why Alex’s sister was so suspicious of her. Could she possibly have noticed the tension with MacLeod? She certainly seemed interested in him.

By the time they reached the carnival, though, she had dismissed any concerns about Marie and decided to enjoy herself. She had made a mental note about one of Alex’s friends that was coming to the party tonight – he would be worth checking out for possible connections to Blue Dusk.

As they passed the fortuneteller’s tent, Alex joked about getting their palms read. Mahleah suppressed a shudder. She remembered the last time someone she knew had a fortune told. Tessa had been informed she needed to leave town or she would die. While her fate had not unfolded the way MacLeod feared, she had still died…shot by a mugger for pocket change. Mahleah had no wish to repeat the experience.

The gypsy woman was standing at the open flap of her tent, watching the crowd pass by. As Mahleah’s party neared her, she began a chorus of wheedling for their patronage.

“Come dearies, you know you want to hear your futures. It’s best to be prepared… all sorts of surprises could be coming your way. Don’t you want to hear the fate of your true love?”

Alex stopped with a smile, “What do you think, girls?” he inquired. “It might be fun.”

“I don’t think so,” Mahleah shook her head. “We all make our own destinies. What could she possibly tell us?”

The woman laughed, her earrings jangling merrily, “Much more than you think, my dear.” She eyed Mahleah with a sharp eye, “Sometimes a little inside information can prepare you to avoid disaster before it strikes.”

Looking into those dark, laughing irises, Mahleah felt an almost hypnotic pull. She was stepping into the tent before she realized what she was doing. Alex started to follow, but the gypsy held up her hand.

“Oh no, young man. I must insist on complete privacy for my clients. Your turn will come soon enough.” She closed the flap and turned to her new customer. “Have a seat.”

Mahleah obeyed, fighting the strange compulsion that had taken hold of her. Why was she doing this? Did the strange woman possess some sort of power or was it merely her own curiosity about the resolution of her mission that mesmerized her?

“Am I supposed to cross your palm with silver now?” she asked with more than a hint of sarcasm.

The fortuneteller smiled, “A bit of coin never did any harm, but I didn’t bring you here because of money. I was…curious.”

“Curious about what?” Mahleah was puzzled.

“I’ve only encountered an aura like yours once in my life – you interest me. There are forces surrounding you that are quite powerful. You are the type of person that attracts the strange and wonderful.”

“I’ll buy the strange part, but I don’t think I’d go so far as to say wonderful,” Mahleah muttered.

The gypsy sat in front of her, “My kind has already touched your life for good and bad, that much is obvious.”

“Your kind?”

Her question was ignored. “Let me see your palm, sweetie,” the woman crooned.

Cautiously Mahleah stretched out her hand.

The woman pored over it eagerly as if reading a juicy novel. After several long minutes’ perusal, Mahleah cleared her throat. “What do you see?” she asked.

“You will live a very long life,” the woman said in a hushed voice. “Your life line runs off the edge of your hand, but it’s strange. You see here,” she pointed to the line in question, “it almost appears to double back on itself.”

“What does that mean?” Mahleah asked, interested despite her skepticism.

“I’m not sure,” the gypsy admitted. “I’ve never seen this before. Perhaps you will get the chance to revisit your past and correct mistakes that were made in your youth. Your whole hand is a mass of contradictions, I’m afraid. Your life made a sudden divergence from the path you were supposed to take. The lines in your hand are beginning to change, but I can see that wherever you are now it is a different fate from the one originally planned.” Her bright eyes gleamed at Mahleah, “You are right that we determine our own fates to a certain extent. Whatever choice you made, set you on a completely different course than the one you were on before.”

“What was the one before? Can you tell?”

The woman frowned, “Marriage, I think. Yes, it is right there.” She pointed to some obscure point on Mahleah’s palm. “You were supposed to marry someone from your hometown.”

That would be Mark, Mahleah guessed. Too bad, he couldn’t handle Immortality. I guess his freaking out pushed me into Section somehow. That’s if all this lunacy can be believed.

“You broke up and that was according to plan, but you were supposed to reconcile,” the gypsy continued. “Instead something happened that sent you away from him forever. That’s what makes your hand so difficult to read, deary. It’s plainly marked that you will have great loves in your life. Four, I think but it’s a bit unclear. He was supposed to be one of them, but that line is fading out.”

Mahleah felt her mouth run dry, “Four?” she croaked.

Nodding her head, the fortuneteller continued, “Yes, four. Two are mortal…and two are not.” Her eyes widened, as she looked up into Mahleah’s face, “As you yourself are not. I’ve met your kind before. Immortals – that partly explains the lifeline.”

Mahleah was stunned. The old lady had known Immortals. What other secrets did she hold?

“Yes,” she nodded over Mahleah’s palm. “Two mortals, two not mortal. One is possibly neither – I’m not certain what he is. Yet one is not of your kind either. Quite puzzling, they are, especially since two of them have been cursed.”

“Cursed?” Mahleah’s head jerked up at the word. “What do you mean cursed?”

The woman frowned, “Both of the non-mortals have been cursed in some way by my kind. Powerful spells have been placed on them, but I’m afraid I can’t make out the details. They seem to be both good and bad at the same time.”

Chaos was forming in Mahleah’s brain. This couldn’t be happening. Yet she knew of an individual that she knew was cursed and she knew the relationship she’d had with him.

“What does the end bring?” she whispered.

“Ah, it’s difficult to say,” the old woman confessed. “There’s much that’s too hazy to make out. Everything around you is changing as we speak.” Her eyes twinkled. “Of the four, I can see that one is the key to your soul. That will never change – it’s plainly written on your hand and in your eyes. He’s not the man you’re with, though.”

Mahleah jerked her hand back as if it had been burned. “You have no idea about my feelings for Alex.”

“Don’t I?” the old woman laughed. “He’s not one of the four.”

Mahleah rose to her feet, and fumbled for some cash.

“Nay, I don’t need money, deary,” the gypsy told her. “It was excitement in an otherwise dull afternoon.”

Rushing out of the tent, Mahleah collided with Alex. He took one look at her face and demanded, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she lied. “It was a complete waste of time. Let’s go home.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw the old woman standing outside the tent once more, grinning at them as they walked away. Worse still, she saw Marie notice both the old woman and Mahleah’s scrutiny of her. It was shaping up to be an interesting evening.

Chapter Fifteen

After returning from their excursion, Mahleah excused herself to get ready for the party. Safely in her own room, she telephoned Section to check on one Terry Davidson, the friend of Alex’s she would meet later tonight.

When Birkoff heard her voice, he nearly jumped for joy, “Mahleah? Thank God.”

“What’s wrong?” she demanded.

“Everything’s gone to hell since you left,” he told her. “Michael and Nikita were nearly caught together and now Operations has forced Walter into retirement.”

“Why do I get the feeling that’s not a good thing?” she asked.

“Because you don’t exactly get 401 K and a gold watch,” he retorted. “Retirement is where they send people for radical medical experiments and weapons testing. It’s all my fault.”

She bit her lip until she tasted blood. “What do you mean?”

“I gave Madeline the proof she needed that Walter was helping Michael and Nikita. I should have known what they’d do.”

“Then fix it,” she said firmly.

“How? His replacement is already here.”

“You know the ways of Section better than anyone other than Walter himself. Fix it – you’ll think of a way. Remember he’d do the same thing for you.”

“True,” he admitted.

“Now, the reason I called is I need you to do a check on a Terry Davidson,” she rapidly gave him all the information she’d been able to glean from the family.

“I’ll get back to you as soon as I can,” he promised.

“Good,” she paused and then said, “I have confidence in you Birkoff. I know you won’t let anything happen to Walter.”

“I’ll do everything I can.”

She hung up and paced across the room. Finally deciding there was nothing more she could do for now, she began running water for a bath. She desperately needed to relax in a hot tub for a while. She poured a couple of capfuls of vanilla bubble bath into the water and inhaled deeply. Vanilla was such a relaxing scent for her. She let her hair down, stepped into the frothy water and slid down until only parts of her face were all that remained above water. Then sitting up just enough to keep her ears above the steaming suds, she let her mind slip away from it all.

All too soon, the water began cooling off. She sighed, let some of the tepid liquid go down the drain and refilled with hot. She grabbed her favorite peach scented bath gel, lathered, and washed. Draining the tub again, she pulled the shower curtain, rinsed the suds off her body, and washed her hair thoroughly.

Leaving the serenity of the tub, she pulled on a terrycloth robe hanging conveniently nearby and had just wrapped her hair in a towel when her cell-phone rang.

Hastily grabbing it, she heard Birkoff say warmly, “Someone wants to talk to you.”

A familiar gruff voice said, “How are you doing, Mahleah darlin’?”

“Walter!” she exclaimed happily. “I’m much better now that I’ve heard you. Are you okay? Both Birkoff and Madeline told me you were in trouble.”

“I’m fine,” he chuckled. “Thanks to Seymour here Operations decided he couldn’t get on without me. I had to tease him a little, but the truth is I was never so glad to see anyone in my life.”

She felt a wave of relief hit her so intensely she had to sit down on the bed. “I can’t tell you how good it is to hear your voice,” she told him warmly.

“Did you say Madeline informed you I was in trouble?” she could picture his scowl. “The only reason she’d do that would be to use it against you. What’s she up to, Mahleah?”

“Nothing,” she lied. “I’m fine.”

“Whatever it is tell her to go to hell,” he said fiercely. “My position here is stronger than it’s been in a long time, but I’d rather go back to retirement then let them use me against you. You hear me?”

“Yes,” she said smiling.

“So you get yourself out of whatever mess this is as fast as you can. Now, Birkoff’s got that info you needed.”

“Mahleah, we’re nearly positive that Terry Davidson is a member of Blue Dusk. Find out all you can about him and see where he goes. You have trackers, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Tag him and if Alex goes someplace without you, tag him as well.”

“Fine,” she agreed. Hopefully this job would be over soon and she could get back to Paris – away from the Coffey family and Duncan MacLeod. God, his presence on this floor was nearly enough to make her scream in frustration.

********

Duncan intended to have another talk with Mahleah and had opened her door enough to see inside. She was standing with her back to the door, wrapped in a robe with her wet hair in a towel, talking on her cell-phone.

“Walter?” he heard the joy and relief in her voice.

Listening to the conversation, he realized Madeline had been threatening Walter’s life, but he was now safe. This was almost the reverse of the situation in Los Angeles with Angel. He quietly shut the door reflecting on the things that a person would do to save a friend or lover.

He went back to his own room without noticing Marie.

*******

At the dinner party, MacLeod knew he was in trouble the moment he saw Mahleah’s dress. Part of his mind thought, “How Jennifer Lopez!” while the other part bordered on short-circuiting. Obviously from Section’s wardrobe, she claimed the dress was borrowed from Nikita. It was shell pink silk bordered with gold and the skirt was floor-length and unexciting. From the waist up however she had every man’s attention and many women’s envy. The bodice consisted of a long piece of silk that draped diagonally across her breasts and down her shoulder. As far as he could tell, the only thing holding the damn dress up was the weight of the material cascading down her back. It was unnerving enough to see the sides of her breasts showing and the curve of her waist as one faced her, but when she turned around his mouth went dry and his breathing became shallow. Other than the trickle of silk coming over her shoulder, nothing covered her back down to her waist. That satiny expanse of flesh was driving him crazy – his desires to run his fingers up her spine and hear her gasp almost overwhelmed him.

Ironically, she seemed perfectly at ease. It was definitely a sink or swim dress and she was carrying it off effortlessly. Her head held high and ringlets dangling to her shoulders, she smiled and laughed comfortably. In fact, for the first time on this mission she seemed relaxed to him. He guessed she was still feeling the joy of that telephone call.

When asked what on earth was holding up the dress she laughed and teased, “Why the weight of y’all’s eyes, of course.”

Alex was unable to keep his eyes, or hands, off her. He noticed she kept up a running conversation with Alex’s friend Terry all during dinner. Terry himself was quite charismatic and joked about stealing her away. Alex would laugh but he would put a hand on the small of Mahleah’s back in a domineering manner that set MacLeod’s teeth on edge.

Malcolm, eyes glowing, laughed at the sensation she was causing. “Mahleah, my dear,” he told her teasingly, “I do believe you’ve captured the heart of every man here. Even Mac looks smitten.”

She turned and walked toward him smiling.

“She is the belle of the ball this evening,” Mac responded.

She drew near and said softly, “So Mac, you like my dress?”

“No,” he said tightly. Truthfully, he wanted to rip it off and ravage her despite the crowd.

Her lips quirked, understanding all he didn’t say. “Poor baby,” she whispered. Her dark eyes were twinkling with wicked delight. She turned to leave and his eyes were drawn irresistibly to her bare back, just as she ran a fingernail up his thigh to areas that were even more sensitive.

She heard his quick intake of breath and looked back grinning mischievously. “Come and get me if you dare,” her eyes seemed to taunt.

She walked away, leaving him – just a little – weak in the knees. I don’t know what your game is, he thought, you’re probably thinking that revenge is sweet, but two can play it.

Just then, Malcolm approached her and held a short conversation. He turned to his guests and announced, “My friends, Alex’s lovely new girlfriend doesn’t merely wear clothes well. She’s also a singer in a Parisian nightclub and has graciously agreed to gift us with a few tunes. As everyone here knows, my favorite music is Motown and she’s agreed to take requests, starting with my favorite Temptations’ song, ‘I Wish It Would Rain.’”

The guests chattered excitedly as Mahleah cleared her throat. He saw her hide a small look of anguish and knew her problem. Music left her exposed and vulnerable and if the first song was an indication of things to come, it was going to be a rough night.

Sunshine, blue skies, please go away

My girl has found another and gone away

With her went my future; my life is filled with gloom

So day after day, I stay locked up in my room

I know to you, it might sound strange

But I wish it would rain

She belted it out clear and fearlessly. He found himself proud of her. It was no doubt excruciating to reveal the pain she was feeling to strangers, but she had no choice. Music stripped her emotions to the bone.

’Cause so badly I want to go outside

But everyone knows that a man ain’t supposed to cry.

Listen, I gotta cry ‘cause cryin’ eases the pain, oh yeah

People this hurt I feel inside words can never explain

I just wish it would rain.

He noticed with disgust that Terry was fascinated by the sight of her stomach muscles flexing as she sang and the way her breathing swelled her breasts under the delicate fabric of her dress. Forget her body for the moment, he wordlessly urged, listen to her. Look at how she glows in a song she loves even if the lyrics bring her pain.

Day in, day out, my tear-stained face is pressed against the windowpane

I search the skies, desperately for rain

‘Cause raindrops will hide my teardrops

And no one will ever know

That I’m cryin’, cryin’, when I go outside

To the world outside my tears, I refuse to explain

Oh, I wish it would rain

She finished and the guests cheered and clapped. She ran through requests: “Dancing in the Streets,” “Shop Around” and “Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone” were all popular. Mahleah was looking at ease when Marie called out, “Someday We’ll Be Together.”

Mahleah blinked, but the murmurs of her audience assured her she’d have to go through with it. He saw her raise her chin and close her eyes.

You’re far away

From me my love

And just as sure my, my baby

As there are stars above

I wanna say, I wanna say, I wanna say

Someday we’ll be together

Yes we will, yes we will

Say, someday we’ll be together

I know, I know, I know.

She kept her eyes tightly shut as if afraid she might see him and break down. He could see her fists clenched at her sides.

My love is yours baby

Oh, right from the start

You, you, you possess my soul now honey,

And I know, I know you own my heart

And I wanna say…

He didn’t know how she was keeping it together. The mixture of sweetness and sorrow in her husky voice made him want to weep for all that was lost, but could still, perhaps, be regained.

He noticed from the corner of his eye that Malcolm was standing next to him, but it no longer mattered. Even though she wasn’t looking at him, had in fact closed her eyes to prevent the possibility that she might, he knew without a doubt that every note was for him.

Long time ago

My, my sweet thing

I made a big mistake, honey

I said, I said goodbye

Oh baby

Ever, ever, ever since that day

Now, now all I wanna do is cry, cry, cry

Malcolm moved in and softly said, “If a woman ever sang that way to me, I’d follow her to the ends of the earth.”

Hey, hey, hey

I long for you every night

Just to keep your sweet, sweet lips

Hold you ever, ever so tight

And I wanna say

Someday we’ll be together

Yes we will, yes we will.

He’d seen a tear slip from a closed lid and slide down her cheek.

Malcolm added, “I think I’d forgive whatever silly mistake she might have made. I’d definitely not let another man take her away.”

He looked, startled, at his friend who shrugged and said, “Call me a romantic but I want the girl to have the man she truly loves.”

He stood speechless as Malcolm nudged him, “Well, what are you waiting for? Surely I don’t need to draw you a diagram?”

He gripped Malcolm’s shoulder tightly for a moment, wordlessly thanking him for his understanding. He noticed that Alex and Terry had surrounded her. They appeared to be saying goodbye. Where were they going at this hour?

By the time he’d reached her, she’d kissed Alex goodnight and headed for the stairs.

Alex looked at Duncan, “She’s one in a million, isn’t she?”

“Even rarer,” he said dryly. “Why’s she leaving the party so soon?”

“The singing drained her, so she wants to go to bed early. It’s understandable – she’s phenomenal. Have you ever heard anyone like her?”

“Never.”

“Well I guess I’ll see you in the morning. There’s a small crisis brewing at the office and Terry thinks he knows a way of avoiding disaster.”

“Goodnight,” Mac said automatically, but his mind had moved on to other things. With Alex out of the way, Mahleah would be alone tonight. Would she welcome his company? His heart thundering beneath his ribs, he began climbing the staircase.

Marie watched him go thoughtfully.

Chapter Sixteen

Mahleah left the door to her room open. She was glad Alex had insisted on giving her the guestroom with a balcony. She walked out into the night air. It was noticeably cooler and a light breeze drifted through the curls she’d left partially loose. All that singing about rain seemed to have had some result.

She smiled, feeling glad that Alex had left on mysterious business tonight. She’d tagged both him and Terry with activated trackers. As she stood there, Birkoff would be ascertaining their location and all of this could be over. After the performance she’d been forced to give, the last thing she wanted was to share a bed with Alex. The very thought tainted her memory of the music.

She really should be changing clothes, contacting Birkoff, and following the trackers but she couldn’t move from the spot. She could feel his presence of course. Being the only two Immortals in the house, it was hard for her not to be aware of him, but the skin on her back seemed to feel molten – the same sensation she’d had all night from his gaze. Without lifting a finger, he’d had more effect on her than Alex who touched her back at every opportunity. Duncan was watching her now and she didn’t have to turn her head to confirm it.

A finger softly glided up her backbone and she shuddered. “Mac,” she whispered.

For an answer, he bit her bare shoulder lightly, then bent, and ran his tongue up the path his finger had already traced.

She gasped with the pleasure. His familiar fingers caressed every inch of skin her dress left exposed. When he reached her shoulders again, he pushed the extra fabric off, leaving her entire upper body uncovered. She shivered as the breeze touched her body like an extension of her lover.

His hands slid across her stomach as he kissed the back of her neck.

“That smell,” he murmured. “You’ve been driving every man in the house mad with desire tonight, cariad. I don’t know what was worse: this heavenly smell,” he nuzzled her hair and ears, “this tantalizing back,” he pressed himself against her and she moaned, “or these,” he drew his hands up to cup her breasts, “so artfully displayed.”

She arched her spine to increase the contact between them. “I don’t care what they thought,” she whispered. “I only wore this thing to make you crazy.”

He turned her finally to face him, and chuckled, “You’ve succeeded m’annsachd, beyond your wildest dreams.” His hands busily pulled all the pins out of her hair.

As he leaned in to kiss her, she matched his evil chuckle with one of her own saying, “I don’t know…my dreams are very wild.”

His touch was gentle at first, tender as a first embrace. When she opened her mouth and touched his lips with her tongue however, his restraint broke. His mouth branded hers in a rare fit of possessiveness that she understood all too well. The future was nebulous and uncertain but for this moment in time she was his. As long as he realized that the reverse was true as well she would encourage him with every kiss, every stroke, every bite, every scratch and every thrust.

*******

Much, much later Mac held a dozing Mahleah in his arms. His fingers caressed her back, barely skimming the top. He was exhausted himself, but he was fighting back sleep. Being no fool, he knew that their lovemaking was only a temporary arrangement. Nothing had changed except for a dissipation of the anger that had been between them.

He didn’t like what she had done, but he had gone to extraordinary lengths before to protect a friend. He knew her loyalty was one of the qualities he loved about her most. He had tried to apologize for his harsh words, but she’d said she understood. It had been his pain and jealousy talking. Although sternly warning him of the consequences if he behaved in such a way again, she had ultimately forgiven him.

When this assignment was over, she would return to Paris and he would be left alone again. For now, though, he could hold her and watch her sleep.

Outside in the hall he heard footsteps that paused outside Mahleah’s door. Alex, he realized. He involuntarily tensed and Mahleah sighed in protest.

Go away, he thought at the boy. Give us tonight. We may not have another for a very long time.

He breathed a sigh of gratitude when the footsteps started away from the door. Alex had apparently decided it was not wise to wake his love at this hour of the morning. Wise decision, he thought, repressing a chuckle. A man had to catch Mahleah before she went to sleep or as she was waking up if he wanted to fool around. She normally slept with Tora by her bed and a knife under her pillow. Any male foolish enough to think getting horny was a good reason to wake her out of a deep sleep was likely to be gelded.

Suddenly his ear caught the sound of a female voice stopping Alex before he went inside his room. It was Marie.

“Oh, dear brother of mine,” she said. “We need to have a chat.”

Damn, MacLeod thought. It would all be over soon. What was that old saying about a woman scorned?

Chapter Seventeen

Mahleah was experiencing the slumber of the physically satiated and the emotionally content. It was a rude shock to suddenly have her bedroom door bang open and an angry male voice shouting at her.

Her hands instinctively reached for weapons before her eyes opened. Finding nothing but naked skin beneath her, she blearily cracked her lids open to find out what the hell was going on and what moron was disturbing the best rest she’d had in weeks.

She discovered she was lying on top of MacLeod, which was good, and Alex Coffey was looming over them with fiery eyes yelling with every breath. This was bad. She struggled to get her thoughts in order. How much of her cover was blown? Speaking of covers, she reached down and grabbed a handful of bedspread to cover herself with. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Alex to shut the hell up and let everyone go back to sleep but that just didn’t seem like a viable option.

Beneath her, MacLeod frowned, “Why don’t you let us get dressed and we’ll meet you downstairs to discuss this like sensible adults,” he suggested.

Malcolm appeared at the doorway, “What’s all the commotion? Oh Mac, I see you took my advice. I don’t blame you a bit. Now, Alex, I know you’re upset but you’ll get over it in time. True love is not something that is found every day and if you get in its way you’ll get trampled.”

“Dad,” Alex wasn’t calming down any time soon. “I don’t understand a damn word you’re saying.”

So much for getting dressed, Mahleah thought tiredly.

“Alex, I’m sorry,” she said. “I told you when we met that I’d just broken up with someone.”

“MacLeod?” he sputtered. “So why did you come away with me? Why did you pretend you’d never met him?”

“She was on the rebound,” his father patiently said.

Mahleah threw him a grateful look, “Exactly. We were shocked to find each other here. He was hurt to see me with someone else and it just seemed natural at the time to act like strangers.”

“What about us?” Alex whispered.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I really am, but some things were never meant to be.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, and then walked out.

Mahleah looked at Malcolm, “Under the circumstances I think it’s best that I move to a hotel.”

“Nonsense,” Malcolm protested. “Alex will get over it. I’d hate to see you part on such bad terms.”

“I don’t see how we could do anything else,” she said sadly.

******

After checking into a moderately priced hotel, Mahleah telephoned Birkoff.

“Tell me you have a location,” she demanded.

“Of course I do,” he told her smugly. “I’ve had it for hours.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll check it out. Will there be a team available soon?”

He was quiet for a moment and she repeated, “Birkoff, will there be a team available?”

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I had another mission going on and it was about to look like we’d lost the leader. Yeah, I think Operations is planning to send you Michael, Davenport, Mentz, and Snow.”

“Sounds good,” she approved.

“Mahleah,” he sounded sad.

“Yeah, Birkoff?”

“Go easy on Michael, huh? Nikita nearly blew him up three minutes ago.”

********

Despite the tension, Duncan had chosen to stay at the Coffey’s house. He needed to talk to Alex about a few things without the presence of his father. It wasn’t easy as Alex disappeared for most of the day. Duncan could understand his anger but there was much more at stake than a broken heart.

When Alex finally walked back into the house, Duncan took him firmly by the arm and steered him to the library.

“We need to talk about a few things,” he said easily.

“Haven’t we said everything already,” Alex said a little bitterly.

Duncan leaned against a table and crossed his arms, “Not really. We sort of left out the part where you’re supplying money to terrorists.”

“What?” Alex frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The fact that you’re under investigation for your activities involving a group known as Blue Dusk,” Duncan informed him.

“Investigation?” he suddenly turned pale. “Mahleah? Is that why she was here?” His bitterness returned. “Just what exactly was she supposed to be investigating?”

“The organization she works for is intense and harsh,” Mac spoke sharply. “It leaves its operatives very little room for independent action.”

“So you’re saying she had no choice but to sleep with me? Oh, that makes me feel a whole lot better.”

MacLeod began getting impatient, “If you could get your mind off Mahleah for a moment, you’d see that you’re in a hell of a lot of trouble, Alex.”

“Why?” Alex laughed. “Blue Dusk is not a terrorist group. It’s a bunch of my friends who find jobs and homes for the underprivileged. It’s charity work for God’s sake. If they want to arrest me for charity work, let them go ahead – my lawyers will shred them like paper.”

Duncan shook his head, “You don’t understand. These people don’t bother with niceties like trials or lawyers, and I find it difficult to believe that they would go to this much trouble if there weren’t something going on that you don’t know about. Think Alex, what exactly do they do with the money you give them?”

“Whenever we find people who meet the criteria we help them out. Give them work and a place to stay. There’s really nothing to it.”

Duncan thought for a moment, “What are these criteria?”

“Well, it started in college for guys our age who didn’t have the advantages we’d been given.”

Mac nodded, it was starting to make sense, “Let me guess: young, single, few family ties, possibly even violent backgrounds?”

“Yes,” Alex still wasn’t seeing the big picture. “We were willing to take a chance with men that society had given up on.”

Duncan raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you get it, Alex? You’ve been used. The men you recruited were turned into mercenaries and the money you donated was spent on weapons.”

Alex sat down hard. Duncan could see the facts clicking into place in his mind. As he ran through everything he knew, he stood up again.

“Duncan,” he said in a ghastly whisper, “Marie.”

“What about her?” Duncan felt his heart speed up.

“She’s with Terry right now. They used to date for a while, but after they broke up, they remained good friends. She was supposed to drop off a check for Blue Dusk. Mac, if they’re mercenaries and she finds out, she could be in danger.”

“And not just from the terrorists,” Duncan added grimly.

Chapter Eighteen

Arriving in Chattanooga, Michael didn’t ever remember feeling so weary. The lack of sleep and jetlag weren’t weighing him down though – rather the soul numbing suspicion that something had happened to Nikita. He wasn’t able to put his finger on it yet, but she was different.

He’d felt that strangeness after she missed their rendezvous together at Genefex. A few hours ago she’d nearly killed him. It could be argued that she knew he was clear or counted on him getting clear before she detonated the explosion but that was pointless. He’d seen her eyes on the ride back to Section and they fluctuated between being eerily cold and deeply troubled.

He’d had no opportunity to talk to her about it. He and this team were immediately dispatched to Tennessee. His comrades had managed to sleep for a few hours on the plane, but his mind refused to let him rest. What was going on?

Mahleah took one look at him and stepped forward saying, “Musashi?” in a quiet voice.

He’d thought he had his defensive armor in place, but obviously, it wasn’t enough. He ignored her gentle looks to get down to the business at hand.

“There seem to be fifty people in the building?” he tersely questioned her.

“Yes,” she replied. “Luckily they’re scattered throughout the place. If we split up into smaller teams, we should be able to take them all.”

“Where is their money and information stored?”

“The best I can tell, it’s on the third level,” she showed him on the screen of a laptop. “It’s a large room that takes up nearly the whole floor. There’s a small window at one end. Actually, this building doesn’t have a lot of illumination.”

He understood, “We’ll take out their lights,” he said grimly.

*******

MacLeod had Alex drive him to the headquarters of Blue Dusk, but after arriving, they argued vehemently over Alex’s insistence on coming with the Highlander. Finally realizing that by the time that he reasoned with the well-intentioned young man Marie could be dead, Mac shut up. As Alex passed him to start toward the building though, he knocked him in the head with the hilt of his katana.

He stuffed the lad into the trunk of the car and left, looking for trouble but knowing it would find him all too soon.

*******

Everything was going according to plan. First Team took out the power in the building and split up. Mahleah found herself clad in black mission gear, a balaclava over her face, infrared goggles over her eyes, automatic in hand, following Michael toward the heart of Blue Dusk.

*******

Duncan had just found Marie when the lights went out. She’d been shocked to see him, “Mac, what are you doing here?”

“Getting you out of trouble,” he’d managed to say before they were plunged into a shadowy haze.

“I can take care of myself,” she told him.

“Like hell you can,” he replied. “You don’t know what you’re up against.”

“I do,” she said coolly. “I’ve known for years. Terry taught me a long time ago.”

He blinked at her, “You’re a member of Blue Dusk.”

“Why should that surprise you?” she asked tauntingly. “I gathered you like tough women.”

“Strong women,” he corrected. “Mahleah has honor – you’re a mercenary.”

“How honorable was it to sleep with my brother and then you?” she asked scornfully.

“We can debate this later,” he said grimly. He’d just felt the presence of not one but two Immortals in the building. Terrorist or Section, this couldn’t be good news. He’d hand Marie over to the police.

“Wait,” she said suddenly. “We need to go this way.”

“Are you sure?”

“I know this place well,” she said. “Follow me.”

*******

After a skirmish with three Blue Dusk members, Michael turned to Mahleah, “Are you okay?”

She started to speak and realized that her last encounter had been more violent than she’d supposed. She’d taken a hard blow to the throat that had nearly incapacitated her. In a rough whisper she replied, “I’ll be fine.”

He nodded and they moved on.

********

Mac was disgusted to discover that instead of leading them out of the building Marie had gone for a safe. Money, he thought, at a time like this she goes for the money. I hope even Amanda would have more sense.

She fumbled with the combination in the gloom. The scant light from the window wasn’t nearly enough to allow her to see the numbers well. The sunny summer weather had ended last night with rain and today had been mostly cloudy. When the moon wasn’t covered with clouds a few wan beams peeked through the room, but it wasn’t enough.

MacLeod’s ears detected noises at the other end of the room and he saw two figures enter with visors over their eyes.

One stepped toward him and the other turned to Marie. He was certain one of them was Immortal. Were they friends or foes?

His answer came with a swift kick to the chest that sent him reeling. He fought back, trying to get close to the woman he was protecting. His opponent was skilled and taking all of his attention. This was bad for Marie so he pulled out his katana.

His opponent backed off a little but still pressed him. He managed to cut the dark figure deeply along the arm and was preparing to go for a more vital area when another blocked his blade.

********

Mahleah had been heading for Marie – hardly surprising she was at the bottom of all this – when she realized that the man Michael was fighting was Duncan.

She was frozen in horror for a moment, then tried to yell at him to stop. Her throat, which had never failed her before, only managed a faint croak that was not heard by either fighter. With a dawning terror she understood that she’d nearly had her windpipe crushed and her body was still healing itself.

Studying the fight a split second, she put herself in Duncan’s place and foresaw deadly consequences for Michael. As Duncan brought his katana around for a lethal blow, she countered with Tora.

********

Well, now he knew which one was Immortal. He was good too, Duncan grudgingly admitted. The only mistake he made was not pressing any advantage he would gain in the fight. MacLeod was backing the strange Immortal into the pale light of the window when something distracted both fighters’ attention.

The Immortal’s comrade was struggling to staunch the bleeding shoulder left by Mac’s katana. Marie had finally gotten the safe open and drawn out a gun. She was about to fire at the man on the floor who had his back turned away from her.

Duncan saw his opponent’s mouth drop open and a hand suddenly held a knife blade. With an uneasy feeling, he knew what would happen. As the man threw, he thrust and the katana slid into his opponent’s chest just below the heart.

He stumbled and fell. As his sword dropped, Duncan watched with sick fascination as it rolled into the cloudy light of the window. It was Tora.

“No!” he heard as if from far away.

The man he’d fought earlier brushed past him. He’d removed his headgear and Duncan could now see it was Michael.

He looked up at Mac, anger, and bewilderment across his face. “As you got nearer the light, I could tell it was you. Didn’t you know it was her?”

He gently cradled the barely breathing body before him, pushing off her goggles and mask.

Duncan groaned and fell to his knees. “Mahleah.”

She looked at him dazedly, “Duncan? That’s twice you’ve killed…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes glazed over.

“I’m sorry, mhuirnin,” he breathed, and then looked into the face of death.

Michael’s eyes were gleaming with a deadly predator-like gaze. He was obviously about to retaliate. Duncan could do little. He felt the other Immortal, or was it pre-Immortal, getting closer to their location. He leaned in and kissed Mahleah’s lips. Suddenly he felt the unmistakable sensation of sharp metal against his skin.

“Say goodbye,” Michael said coldly, holding Tora.

“Listen to me,” Duncan urged. “There’s not much time. You’re going to have to protect her. No one can know what’s happened.”

“How can I do that?” Michael demanded. “She’s dead.”

“She won’t be for long,” Duncan sighed. “Please Michael, you’re the only chance she’s got right now. If I could save her I would, but I don’t know how she’ll react to me now.”

“What can I possibly do?”

They both looked down as the dead woman suddenly drew in a deep breath and coughed.

Backing away from a stunned operative, MacLeod advised, “Don’t let them see she was ever hurt. Say the blood’s yours.”

“But what’s going on?” Michael protested.

Mahleah grabbed his leg, “I’ll tell you later Musashi,” she rasped. “Let him go.”

Michael rarely ever swore, but this was the most bizarre situation he’d ever seen.

“Mahleah, what the hell are you?” he asked.

“There’s no time for that now. I promise that the first opportunity we get without third parties listening I’ll tell you everything.”

*********

Duncan disappeared from their sight, but he had to make sure Mahleah’s secret wouldn’t be discovered. Michael, he saw, was a man of his word. When Mentz, Davenport, and Snow burst in a few minutes later, they found Mahleah supposedly helping a wounded Michael stand. As the moments went on, she healed, and he lost blood, it became the truth.

They examined Marie’s still body, and left with a hard drive, the cash, and Terry Davidson. They were welcome to him, Mac thought soberly. He now had the gruesome task of informing Alex and his father of both the fate and secret identity of Marie Coffey.

*********

On the plane ride home, Mahleah was unusually quiet. While Mentz and Snow tried to coax her into singing for them, she claimed her throat was still sore.

After finishing his report, Michael felt a shadow fall across his keyboard and looked up. Mahleah, pale and somber, sat down beside him.

“Musashi,” she said without looking at him. “I know you have troubles of your own, and don’t want to be bothered, but can I…” she stopped.

He looked at for a long time, then set aside his computer and pulled her down until her head was in his lap. Putting an arm around her, he gently said, “Sleep.”

Chapter Nineteen

When Michael returned to Section, he debriefed, made a quick trip to the MedLab, and looked for Nikita. She knew he would be looking for him, but was nowhere to be found. Apparently, she hadn’t even waited to find out if his team had succeeded or if there had been any wounded or casualties. Considering he had been wounded, her blatant disregard stung.

He left to find her. If it was a violation of the Type One Directive, he didn’t care. She was repainting her apartment it seemed, and confusion reigned on her face when he attempted to talk to her. She didn’t respond to his words, answered his questions in a daze, and pulled away when he tried to touch her.

Michael had been shot numerous times, stabbed, cut, beat up, and drugged and tortured by “creative” interrogators. Nothing ever hit him with the same force as the one simple sentence that came from her mouth now: “I don’t love you anymore.”

His eyes had closed from the pain and he’d still felt blind when he opened them and walked away. The only thing he could feel was the overwhelming sensation that again Section had managed to take away the thing he cared for most. As he staggered down the hallway, he felt punch-drunk like a boxer who’d taken one too many blows to the head. “I won’t let them do this,” he kept thinking. “I won’t let them do this.” It was a chorus that echoed in his ears repeatedly and gave him the strength to get to his car.

As he pulled away from the curb, he drove without conscious thought – no real destination in mind. When he found himself in the Place Stalingrad however, he knew where his subconscious had taken him: to the one person who could possibly understand what he felt.

As he entered The Copperhead, he saw Mahleah up on stage. She had an acoustic guitar and was strumming it furiously. When her vocal began, the rest of the band kicked in as well.

Lover had to leave me

‘Cross the desert plain

Turned to me his lady

Tell me “lover wait”

Calling Jesus, please

Send his love to me

Her voice was at its huskiest and most intense. He sat down at Tony’s bar to listen. The bartender took one look at him, and pushed a glass over. He drank without looking at it – and though the contents burned his throat, he didn’t even bother to try to identify it.

Oh, wind and rain they haunt me

Look to the North and pray

Send me, please, his kisses

Send them home today

I’m begging, Jesus, please

Send his love to me

He still didn’t know what had happened back in Tennessee. She had stopped breathing, and he’d found no pulse...she was dead, but minutes later she was breathing again. By the time they’d made it out to the van, there was no sign of her fatal wound left except the blood that had soaked into her clothes. Thank God, they were black, and she could cover the rip left by the sword thrust with a jacket. Davenport and the others had easily accepted that he was the one wounded and not she. The team mentioned the fact in their reports, so he had fulfilled MacLeod’s request.

Left alone in desert

This house becomes a hell

This love becomes a tether

This room becomes a cell

Mommy, daddy, please

Send him back to me

That still didn’t tell him what she was, but he would get his answer tonight. No more half-truths, no more evasions…he was in no mood for them. She would have to give him a full explanation no matter how painful it might be.

How long must I suffer?

Dear God, I’ve served my time

This love becomes my torture

This love, my only crime

Oh lover please release me

My arms too weak to grip

My eyes too dry for weeping

My lips too dry to kiss

Calling Jesus, please

Send his love to me

I’m begging Jesus please

Send his love to me

How appropriate -- Love was their only crime indeed. By Section standards, all of their success and completed missions meant nothing if they displayed weakness and love was the greatest of them all.

Had Mahleah forgiven MacLeod for killing her? What did she mean with her words, “That’s twice you’ve killed…”? Had he hurt her before? He didn’t seem to be the type. He nearly chuckled. Lord, he’d thought he and Nikita had a strange and twisted relationship.

Mahleah had finished the song she was singing, put down the guitar, and went straight into another song by P.J. Harvey. It, too, struck nerves that were freshly jangled for him and he suspected for her as well.

My love will stay ‘till the riverbed run dry

And my love lasts long as the sunshine blue sky

I love him longer as each damn day goes

The man is gone and heaven only knows

‘Cause I’ve cried days, I’ve cried nights

For the lord just to send me home some sign

Is he near? Is he far?

Bring peace to my black and empty heart

So long day, so long night

Oh Lord, be near me tonight

Is he near? Is he far?

Bring peace to my black and empty heart.

*******

After the show, he offered to drive her home and she refused.

“Thanks anyway, Michael, but I need to walk,” she told him.

“I’ll join you,” he said decisively. “We need to talk.”

“Fine,” she nodded. “I’ll get my coat.”

He was beginning to understand that she always had a coat with her because that was where she tended to keep Tora. They walked in silence. He had nothing really to say and was waiting to see when she would decide to open up. After a considerable distance, he realized where they were headed. Sure enough, the spires of Notre Dame loomed ahead.

They scampered over the gate and sat down on her usual bench. He looked at her expectantly, and she sighed.

“I guess this is as good a place as any.”

“Tell me the truth, Mahleah,” he warned.

“Musashi, I’ve never lied to you,” she said simply. “I just held back some things you weren’t ready to deal with yet.”

“So, what are you?”

“We’re called Immortals and you’ve already seen that we can’t be killed unless…”

“Someone cuts off your head,” he finished. Pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place. He thought this over for a moment. “If you can only die that way, then how long can you live?”

She smiled ruefully, “A very, very, very long time. The oldest living Immortal I know of is over five thousand years old.”

He inhaled sharply. “How old are you?”

She laughed feebly, a pale imitation of her usual mirth, “A few years younger than you… I’m a child as far as my kind are concerned.”

“And MacLeod?”

Her mouth tightened, “He was born in 1592 – you do the math.”

He swallowed, “That’s over four hundred years.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

“So, why does your kind hunt each other? Because they can?” he guessed.

“Pretty close to the truth,” she admitted. “Whenever an Immortal kills another, he or she receives that Immortal’s essence called the Quickening. All of that Immortal’s power, strength, and knowledge become your own. Whether we like it or not, we are all involved in The Game. Like any other game, it has rules, though. Two Immortals cannot gang up on one, no one is allowed to interfere with an accepted challenge, and fighting on Holy Ground is strictly prohibited.”

“And if you win the Game?” he asked.

She stared at him soberly, “The last one left in the end will possess the power of all the Immortals who’ve ever lived.”

A chill ran through him, “So you fight to stay alive and to prevent that power from falling into the wrong hands?”

“That pretty much sums it up,” she fell silent.

He was stunned. It was an incredible story that sounded wildly improbable but he believed her. He recalled Kassim’s death when he’d thought she’d been struck by lightening – which was a Quickening he realized. It explained why her people always knew when another was around – a natural warning system. So, Kassim and Claire had been Immortal as well as MacLeod. His mind was reeling from the implications.

She looked at him, “So, are you going to tell me your news?”

“What news?”

“What’s going on with you and Nikita? Why did you look like a man on his last legs when you walked in tonight?”

Now he was the one to grimace, “They’ve done something to her,” he finally said.

“To Nikita? Who has, Section?”

“Yes, on our last mission together something happened. We were split up and when I found her again she was different. We were sent in to blow up a factory and she detonated the blast before she could have known if I was clear.”

She swallowed convulsively, “Well, Michael…”

He held up his hand, “Before I came to The Copperhead I went to see her. She couldn’t stand my touch and she said,” his voice dropped to the barest of whispers, “that she didn’t love me anymore.”

“Musashi,” her voice held an empathy he couldn’t bear right now. He stood and turned away but looked back when she spoke.

Grim amusement in her voice she declared, “Love sucks, but life goes on.”

“Since you’re going to live forever, you’d better get used to it,” he informed her, his tone matching hers.

“I have a punching bag and a dummy. I’ll flip you to see who gets to use them first,” she offered.

 He raised an eyebrow. “I call heads.”

Chapter Twenty

Michael cautiously approached the man watching the children sailing their toy boats. He sat down at his table and stared at the chessboard. The pieces hadn’t been touched.

“I know when I’m in check,” the man said.

He put a tape player between them, and hit play. Music poured out of the tiny speaker and the dark haired man flinched as he heard Mahleah singing “Hawkmoon 269.” It was queued up to the moment when she wailed, “Like a Phoenix rising needs a holy tree/Like the sweet revenge of a bitter enemy/I need your love.”

“How is she?” he asked.

“She’s singing a lot of P.J. Harvey, but she’s a survivor,” Michael responded. He pulled another item from his pocket and laid it before Mahleah’s Immortal lover.

MacLeod stared at the bit of braided hair. “She cut her hair?” he finally asked.

Michael nodded. “It’s not short,” he offered. “She only had about six inches cut off the end. It hits her about mid-back instead of the waist now. She says that’s a better length for her lifestyle.”

Mac picked up the token. “Was there a message with this?” he inquired.

“You’re to hold it in trust for the future – whenever or wherever that may be,” Michael told him.

Duncan closed his eyes in both pain and relief. “She’s forgiven me?”

“She forgave you not long after it happened, but she says she needs time to process everything.”

Nodding, the Scot closed his fist around the soft braid. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it was her,” he said sadly.

Michael studied him. He’d been prepared to dislike Duncan after his actions in Chattanooga, but the genuine remorse in his voice hit a resonant chord within the operative.

“You have a long time to work things out,” he said and began to rise.

“Wait. She told you then, what we are?”

At the other man’s nod, MacLeod rose as well. “Please look after her.”

“She can take care of herself better than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Physical threats, yes,” Duncan agreed. “What she’s not used to dealing with are the kinds of insidious corruption your organization thrives on. Don’t let her become…”

“Like me?” Michael finished the sentence bitterly.

Duncan laid a hand on the Frenchman’s shoulder, “I didn’t say that. There’s a lot of good in you. Mahleah sees it and so do I. Don’t give up on yourself.”

Michael gave a short nod, “Watch your head,” he said quietly.

Duncan smiled in appreciation. As Michael walked away, Duncan sat back down and picked up the small tape player.

Is it getting better or do you feel the same?

Will it make it easier on you now you’ve got some one to blame?

You say: one love, one life

When it’s one need in the night.

One love, but we’re not the same

We get to carry each other, carry each other…one.

He settled back to listen to Mahleah singing her favorite song and knew that this was the end for possibly a long time, but there was still hope for the distant future.

********

”Is everything on target?”

“Yes. Nikita will no longer cause us any concerns.”

“And Michael?”

“I suspect it will be a difficult transition. Luckily our contingency is already in place.”

“He did behave as predicted. Will Mahleah cooperate?”

“Not at first, but with the right leverage she won’t resist….”

Song List:

“Like a Virgin” , “Promise to Try” and “Sooner or Later” by Madonna

“Loose Ends” by Bruce Springsteen

“American Woman” as performed by Lennie Kravitz

“Behind Blue Eyes” by The Who

“The Ground Beneath Her Feet”, “The First Time”, “Hawkmoon 269”, and “One” by U2

“I Wish It Would Rain” by The Temptations

“Someday We’ll Be Together” by The Supremes

“Send His Love to Me” and “The Dancer” by P. J. Harvey

Author’s Note: Despite the reference to Jennifer Lopez, the inspiration for Mahleah’s dress was actually from an old classic Star Trek episode, “Who Mourns for Adonis?” If you’ve seen the episode you know the dress I’m referring to which I’ve always thought quite beautiful and very daring for its time.

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