Chapter 11a:  Mysterious and Reassuring

Tessa slowly opened her eyes to see the no-longer mysterious immortal crouching next to a small campfire just a few feet away from her.

"Padre Quintana?"

"Oh good, you're awake."

"You...you're..

"Immortal?"  He laughed.  "Yes, I am well aware of that fact."

"But how?  I mean..."

"I know what you mean, Tessa, but it's a long story and I'd rather not bore you with the details at the moment.  How's your wound?  Is it healing all right?"

Tessa reached around with her left hand and tentatively touched the spot where she'd been hit, hissing in pain as she did.  When she pulled the hand back, her fingertips were covered in blood.

"Not as well as I'd hoped."

"Well, you only passed out for a few minutes...why don't you move closer to the fire.  Let me take a look at it."  Keeping her right arm cradled close to her side she, with some effort, managed to pull herself away from the wall she'd collapsed against and scoot over next to the padre.  As soon as she was close, he pulled something off of her neck and over her head.  "How long were you planning on wearing this?" he asked, dangling the remains of the noose in front of her face.

"Well, getting shot pretty much took my mind off of anything else."

"Ah...."  He threw the noose into the fire, and Tessa watched in fascination as the hemp slowly curled and shriveled away to nothing.  "Now then," he said after a moment, "let's take a look at that wound, shall we?"  She nodded, her eyes still focused on the flames.  As soon as his hand touched her shoulder, she let out a pained hiss.  "Sorry.  I'll try to be a little gentler."  He examined her for several more minutes, the occasional pokes and prods forcing Tessa to bite her lip so she wouldn't cry out.  "Ah-ha!" the padre finally exclaimed.  "I think I found the problem.  It appears that the bullet is still in the wound."

She turned around and glared.  "No KIDDING.  I could've told you that much.  Besides, what's that got to do with anything?  It'll still heal, won't it?"

"Of course it will.  But, if I can get that bullet out, it'll heal a lot faster."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Let's just say I speak from personal experience.  Of course, it's up to you.  If you'd rather wait it out..."

"Do it."

"Very well, then."  He reached into his robe and pulled out a small flask.  "Here, drink this first."

"What is it?"

"Whiskey.  Trust me, it'll make this a lot easier on you."

Tessa held up her good hand in protest."No thanks.  I'll pass."

"You sure?"

"Positive," she said, nodding. "I never drink anything that strong."

"Alright," he shrugged, putting the flask away.  "Suit yourself."  Tessa watched as he pulled his knife once more and held the blade over the flames.

The young immortal frowned.  "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Of course I do.  I have been a doctor before.  Granted, it's been awhile since I practiced, but things couldn't have changed that much...I mean, they still use leeches, don't they?"

Shocked, Tessa opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by his soft laughter.

"Relax, Tessa...I'm kidding.  It was a joke.  I can assure you that I'm quite experienced at this.  Now, the first thing I'm going to do is cut away your shirt sleeve so I can get at the wound.  Don't worry; I'll replace the shirt as soon as I can.  Just try to hold still while I work."  Nodding, Tessa did just that, only flinching slightly when he pried the material away from the wound, where dried blood had stuck it to her skin.  "Alright, now for the hard part.  Again, I need you to hold still for me.  Think you can do that?"

"Yes, of--"  her reply was cut off by the sudden painful sensation of the hot knife going into the bullet wound.  Tessa cried out in pain and then let loose a string of expletives that would make even the most hardened sailor blush.  The knife was quickly pulled away, and Tessa turned to see the padre looking rather apologetic, and somehow amused at the same time.

"My, such language...and from a doņa, no less."

Tessa gave a half-hearted laugh."I haven't been a doņa for quite some time, padre.  And you could've warned me that it was going to hurt that much."

"Why do you think I offered you the whiskey?  Sure you don't want it now?"

"Hand it over."  The instant the flask touched her hand, Tessa took off the cap and downed the whole thing.  As the unfamiliar liquid burned its way down her throat, she could feel the pain grow more and more distant until it had almost disappeared entirely.  "Okay, now do it."  This time, the knife felt like little more than a pinprick.

"Got it!" he suddenly exclaimed.  It seemed to her that only a few seconds had passed since he'd started.

"Already?  That was quick."

"Like I said, I have a lot of experience.  And look, you're almost completely healed."  Tessa reached around with her left hand to check and sure enough, the bullet wound had already faded into a mere bruise.  And even that was quickly going away.  She turned to thank the padre for his help, only to find him staring at the bullet in the firelight, the far-off look in his eyes reminiscent of the way Duncan got when caught in a memory.

"You alright, padre?"  She gently touched his shoulder, bringing him back to reality.  Padre Quintana nodded, his gaze still fixed on the bullet.

"It's amazing...back in my day, the only arms we could get any sort of distance with were arrows and spears.  And large as they were, this tiny lump of lead can do far more damage to the human body..."

"How...how old are you?"

He chuckled, tossing the now useless bullet aside.  "Old.  Too old, it seems some days."

"That doesn't tell me much.  Compared to me, most of you guys are pretty old."

"True.  But very few of us can count our age in millennia."

"Millennia?" she squeaked, the surprise evident in her voice.

"Aye.  Somewhere between two and three thousand years, to be exact."

"And you've spent all that time on holy ground?"

"Of course not.  Whatever gave you that idea?"

"I just...I mean...I kind of assumed that..."

"That because I'm a priest now I've always been one?"  She nodded.  "Well, that's true for some of us, but not in my case.  This identity--the one you've always known me as--is just one of many I've had over the centuries.  And to tell you the truth, it wasn't even supposed to last this long.  See, it all started about...oh...twenty-five years ago.  I've been living in this area off and on since...well...long before the Spaniards discovered it, and had just returned from a rather lengthy tour of Europe when I received a letter from an old friend of mine named Paul.  Paul--Brother Paul, I should say--is one of those immortals who did choose to spend their eternity in the service of a greater being.  Even founded his own order, as well as a sanctuary for our kind over in Italy.  Anyway, the letter said that one of the priests he'd trained was coming here to assist the aging padre that headed the church in Santa Elena.  He wanted me to meet the young priest and escort him into town, seeing as the natives weren't exactly thrilled about the Church's presence in California."

"No kidding.  But was that really necessary?  I mean, the indios I've met seem friendly enough."

"That's always been my experience, which is why I didn't exactly rush out to meet him.  My mistake.  By the time I reached the rendezvous point, he was dead.  Someone else had gotten there first, although I've never quite figured out who.  But it wasn't pretty.  Anyway, I took the body back to my place for a proper burial and spent the next few hours trying to figure out what to tell Brother Paul, not to mention the clergy in Santa Elena.  Then it hit me--I didn't have to tell anyone anything.  Not the locals, anyway.  No one knew what the young man had looked like, so I donned one of his spare robes and an old theatre wig, went straight to Santa Elena and introduced myself as Padre Quintana."

Tessa's eyes grew large."That's a wig?"

"Yeah," he said, taking it off to reveal a full head of short, golden locks.  "Little souvenir from the first production of Romeo and Juliet.  I played Friar Lawrence."

"You knew Shakespeare?"

"Absolutely.  In fact, I was his patron.  At least, until he got a partnership in the Chamberlain's men...damn that Burbage...but I'm getting a bit off topic here.  Where was I?"

"Introducing yourself as Padre Quintana...isn't that, I don't know...illegal?  Impersonating a priest, I mean."

"That it is.  And believe me; I had no intention of dragging it out this long.  I wrote letters upon letters to Brother Paul, begging his forgiveness for what happened to the real Quintana and pleading with him to send someone else so I could drop the charade."

"I'm guessing he said no."

"He felt it might be...beneficial for me to try things 'his' way for a while.  Thought it would help me to better deal with the demons that have haunted me for most of my life.  And Brother Paul is someone I've never been able to say no to.  If it weren't for him, I'd probably be dead now...or worse."

"What's worse than dying?"

"Trust me, Tessa..." he said, his expression darkening for a moment.  "...you really don't want to know."

She stood up and paced around the fire.  "Okay...so...tell me, just how is it possible that you've stuck around here for twenty-five years and no one's noticed that you weren't aging?"

"You'd be surprised at the lengths people will go to in order to rationalize the unexplainable.  Far as I know, the general consensus is that I've just been exceptionally blessed.  I don't know if I'd call this a blessing, exactly, but at least that explanation is better than the one where I'm secretly practicing the dark arts.  I've had that happen before, and it's not an experience I'd ever care to repeat."

"And in all this time, you've never thought of just 'killing' yourself and moving on?"

"Oh, I've thought about it.  Thought about it quite a bit during the first few years.  But then something happened that changed everything."

She stopped pacing and faced the old immortal. "What?"

"Well, one day, about two years after I'd officially 'settled in,' I was coming in to handle morning confession, and I came across this tiny bundle on the doorstep of the church.  As I approached, an all-too-familiar sensation washed over me, and I knew what the bundle was even before picking it up.  And the moment I lifted that bundle from the ground, I found myself face to face with the most beautiful baby I'd ever seen--and in three thousand years, that's saying a lot.  Looking at that tiny little life squirming in my arms, something inside me just clicked, and I knew I'd finally found my purpose for remaining in Santa Elena...

"I found you."

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