Promises to Keep
Chapter 2
Duncan stood with his hands on his hips and smiled as he admired the way Sara's khaki shorts moved over the muscles of her thighs and the curves of bottom as she climbed. Though he'd only spent about fifteen conscious minutes with her, she'd enthralled him like no woman had since Tessa.
Regret and a twinge of guilt lapped over him in soft waves, as it did every time he thought about letting another woman into his life. But he'd felt the same way after Kern and the blue coats killed Little Deer. Then he had jumped into a Paris tour boat and into Tessa's life. One look at her beguiling smile, and he had forgotten all about his vow never to love again. As he watched Sara's boots disappear over the edge of the cliff, the sense of deja vu wrapped around him like a python. He took a deep breath to break its grasp, but it held fast.
"Another time, another place, MacLeod," he muttered as he grabbed the rope. His still-healing bones ached, and his muscles howled for mercy as he climbed. Getting killed twice in one day was hell, and who knew if that would be the last of it before the day was done.
When he reached the top, Sara stretched out her hand to help him up. Though smaller than his and slender, the strength in her grip surprised him. He dragged himself away from the edge and lay there for a moment to catch his breath. The warm soft pressure of a hand on his back made him turn his head.
"Are you okay, MacLeod," Sara asked, her voice gentle as a spring rain.
"I'm fine," he answered, rolling onto his back to look up at her.
"Good," she said, with a nod of her head. Her golden ponytail swayed enticingly. Duncan closed his eyes as something deep in his heart twisted in response. Standing, she brushed dirt and gravel from her knees. "I thought maybe you were dead, again."
She extended her hand to help him up, and he accepted, not because he needed help, but because he couldn't resist her touch.
"No," he said, standing before her. "Twice in one day is quite enough."
"Twice?"
"Yeah - you dropped me, remember?" He glared at her for effect. She didn't flinch. "My head was just starting to heal when a one woman rescue squad bounced it off a rock."
She lowered her head for a moment, then looked up. Green eyes, the rich color of jade, sparkled with amusement as she studied him. A crooked smile dimpled her cheek, and exposed a hint of regret, but not a trace of remorse. "Sorry about that, she said. "I was performing an act of mercy ... and I thought you were dead - remember? Last time I heard corpses don't feel any pain."
Her eyes clouded over as she reached up to touch the dried blood on his forehead. "Did it hurt much?"
It had hurt like hell. "No," he lied, "After 400 years you get used to it."
Sara's eyes widened as she gaped at him. "What do you mean - 400 hundred years? 400 years of what?"
Duncan smiled. He shouldn't have said that, but he still wasn't thinking clearly. No time to explain now. He glanced up at the cloudless sky for a moment than met her wide-eyed stare again. He placed his hand lightly on her shoulder. "Someday, I'll take you to dinner and thank you properly for what you tried to do. I'll explain it all, then, but right now, I've got to go."
"Okay," Sara said with a shrug, then she bent to retrieve the rope. "I can't wait to hear this one, but I guess I'll have to. My cabin's about three miles from here." She tilted her head to indicate a path at the edge of the small clearing. "I've got a Jeep so I can take you back to where I found you. You can try to pick up the trail from there."
Duncan shifted his bag so it hung out of the way. "I appreciate the offer, but I can find my own way back. Besides these men are dangerous criminals, you could get hurt."
Sara rolled her eyes, then she pinned him with an emerald scowl. "Don't pull that Mr. Macho stuff with me, MacLeod. I hate when guys do that. These thugs already threw you off a cliff - face it you need help, and I'm the only help available. Besides this is my land - I know it better than anyone."
Before Duncan could respond, she moved to block his way to the path. A good four inches shorter than he was, she stood with her hands on her hips, her feet placed wide. The straight line of her mouth, the icy determination blazing in her eyes and the squared shoulders left no doubt that getting by her would be a major hassle - more hassle than he needed right now. Even if he muscled his way past her, she would probably follow him. Better to have her with him, than on her own - one less thing to worry about.
"All right," he said with a sigh. "But if I tell you to do something, do it - don't argue. Your life could depend on it."
Sara relaxed her stance a bit, but she frowned. "I don't know what kind of women you're used to dealing with, MacLeod, but just so you know - I'm no helpless babe in the woods. I'm smart, strong, and quite capable of taking care of myself."
"So I've noticed," he said flashing her a smile of appeasement. "Now, can we please, get going."
"Right," Sara said. She saluted, then she spun on her heel and strode down the path. Duncan's katana swung from her backpack in rhythm.
"Aren't you forgetting something." he asked, catching up with her in two long strides.
She slowed. "What?"
"My sword," he said. "You promised to return it."
She watched him with narrowed eyes for a moment "Yeah, okay ... I guess I did," she said, shrugging off the backpack. She dropped it on the ground and began to untie the sword.
He took one step back as she straightened, the katana grasped in her right hand. She held it at her side for a moment, lifted it slightly, then she twirled it once. Bringing it to rest on her open palms, she extended her hands and offered it to him.
A disquieting prickle lifted the hairs at his neck. "Where did you learn to do that?" he asked, shaken, more than he cared to admit. He took the sword carefully, then lowered it to his side inclining his head in a slight bow.
Sara shrugged, then settled her backpack onto her shoulders. "Why?"
"You handled it like you knew what you were doing."
Sara chuckled. "I do know a little about swords - enough to fake it - probably enough to be dangerous. Actually, I've got one very similar to yours. I spent some time in Japan researching a novel I never finished, and a friend gave it to me. He showed me some of the basics," she said with a grin, then she stepped back allowing him room to pass. "Guess he didn't want me loping off any essential body parts. After you ..."
"Since it's your territory," he said. "I'll follow your lead ... for now anyway."
Sara tossed him a grin lit with satisfaction, turned and jogged smoothly up the path. As Duncan followed, he wondered how much she knew. Did she know of her future? Could she know what she would one day become? And what of her Japanese friend? Was he an Immortal who knew as well? Had he told her? Or had he just wanted her to be prepared? Duncan suspected she didn't know, but he couldn't be certain.
Twenty minutes later, Sara slowed her pace. Duncan moved up to her side. "There's my cabin," she said pointing to the left. When Sara had said cabin, he had pictured a tiny one or two room dwelling, but the structure he glimpsed through the trees was a sizable house. "That's some cabin, he said, whistling in appreciation. "Writing must pay well."
"Depends on the writer," she said with a smirk. "I'm good. I do okay, but not that okay. The cabin was my Dad's - he built it himself. We spent a lot of time here when I was growing up."
She gazed off in the direction of the lake he could see shimmering in the distance beyond the house. "I inherited the cabin and all the land four years ago, when he and my Mother were killed in a plane crash."
"I'm sorry," he said.
Sara took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then she shrugged. "He lived his life the way he wanted," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "He lived it to the hilt, and he died doing something he loved - flying that damned plane."
Duncan wondered if she was talking to him or to herself until she turned to face him again. "What more can a person ask out of life?" He nodded agreement, and thought about making a comment, but she had already started walking toward the cabin. He followed.
She had taken only three or four steps when she stopped suddenly. He nearly tripped trying to avoid running into her. She held her hand out in a gesture of caution. "What--" he started to ask.
"Shhh ... Something's not right." She motioned him to her side, then eased a small branch out of her sight line. "See that window. It's in my bedroom." She pointed to the front of the house, then turned to him, her eyes wide with alarm. "I never close those blinds."
Duncan took a wary step forward. He saw a dark green Jeep Wrangler parked on a strip of blacktop and a large log house surrounded by wildflowers and evergreen shrubs. The blinds on the window were, indeed, closed. He stepped back and watched Sara dig through her backpack. "Are you sure you didn't just close them without thinking - maybe when you were dressing or because the sun was shining in?" He kept his voice low.
She pulled her hand out of the bag, producing a pair of binoculars. Her smile held a hint of indulgence for a foolish question. "I live alone in the middle of the woods, MacLeod. I could dance stark naked on the deck and no one would notice ... and I worship the sun. Trust me - I didn't close those blinds."
Duncan fought off the images her explanation conjured up by examining the house. He saw nothing amiss. "Then why have them at all?"
Sara laughed. The sound whispered soft as a breeze through the pines. "My mother did most of the decorating. My Dad built the cabin for her. She said if he insisted on dragging her into the woods, she insisted on having all the luxuries of home. She used to sit on the deck with a glass of wine and a book while we trekked off to commune with nature."
Sara lifted the binoculars to her eyes. "She had good taste, so I just left everything the way she had it." She watched the house for a long moment, then handed the binoculars to him . "I don't see anything else wrong, but I don't know how those blinds got closed ... and I don't like it."
Duncan took the binoculars and swept them slowly across the front of the house, then he detected a flicker of movement at the far corner of the porch. A man, wearing camouflage and carrying a gun, stepped out from the deep shadows cast by the overhang. A surge of adrenaline left his nerves tingling, as he turned and handed the binoculars to Sara. "Friend of yours?" he asked.
Sara peered through the binoculars again. She shook her head slowly as she adjusted the focus. "Never saw him before. Do you think it's one of those men you were chasing?"
"Could be," he said, watching over her shoulder. "I only got a look at the two who forced me off the cliff. Maybe, the sheriff sent one of his men out to make sure you were okay," he said, hoping that was the case.
"It's a very small town, and I know everyone. I don't know him." She lowered the binoculars, narrowed her eyes and shot him a lethal stare. "I think it's time you told me what we're up against, MacLeod."
He stepped off the trail and into the brush to stay out of sight, then leaned against a tree with his hands in his pockets. Scuffing his toe in the dirt, he studied his feet. He hadn't wanted to involve her, but since it appeared the men had taken over her house, she was involved whether he liked it or not. When he glanced up, she stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. Impatience shimmered around her like heat waves rising off asphalt in the summer sun.
Maybe he could persuade her to wait here while he handled the situation. As he sifted through valid arguments, determination jelled in her eyes. Fat chance.
"Where do you want me to begin?" he asked.
"How about the beginning?
He shook his head. "That's a long way back."
"Well, how did you get involved? Were you there when they attacked your friend?"
"No," he said, stepping away from the tree. He gazed off at the lake. Bright sun dappled dark water with gold and silver spangles. "I wish I had been. I should have been." He crouched down to pick up a twig. The memory of Danny Chou, lying in a circle of blood-soaked earth, devoured the tranquil image of the lake. He took a deep breath to chase it, but the disturbing vision clarified instead. The twig snapped into two jagged pieces. He let it slip from his fingers. "My car broke down on the way to meet him, so I got there late ... too late."
Sara's warm touch on his shoulder sent the memory back where it came from - back to the deep recesses of his mind. "Don't blame yourself, MacLeod. What could you have done - one man against a gang?"
He stood up, and gazed over her head. "I could have stopped them from taking Mei Lin and Kim. Or made sure a few of them paid for what they did to Danny."
Sara shook her head, and snorted her amazement at his boast. "You really have an overgrown ego, MacLeod - who do you think you are anyway? Do you Immortals have super human powers, as well?"
"No." He smiled as he looked at her, standing in front of him with her hands at her hips again. "Just a lot of time to take the normal ones to the next level. Don't judge until you've seen me in action."
Rolling her eyes skyward, Sara began to pace a short path. "Oh great." she exclaimed, flapping her arms as she walked. "I've got a gang of marauders camped out in my house, and I'm stuck with a dead guy who thinks he's come back as Rambo."
"Rambo? Who's Rambo?"
She stopped. Turned to face him. "You know ... Sylvester Stallone - The Rambo movies - all 47 of them!"
Duncan shook his head. He had no idea what she was talking about. "'Fraid not," he said. Friends, both mortal and Immortal alike, constantly told him he was out of touch with current events. But who could keep up with 400 years of pop culture? Apparently, this Rambo character was another bit he'd missed.
"Jeeze, MacLeod - where have you been living - a monastery in Tibet?"
"No," he said, chuckling. "I've been around. I just don't keep up with current film characters."
"Do you know who these guys are or where they came from?"
"According to your sheriff, they're survivalists with white supremacist leanings. They caused some trouble when they came through town earlier in the evening. He said they attacked the owner of the general store--"
"Oh no - not Jacob," Sara interrupted. "He's such a dear little man. He wouldn't harm a soul. Do you know if he was hurt?"
"No, I don't think so - not seriously anyway. Tanner said they had started to rough him up when their leader came along, said they had more important things to do, then he hustled them out of town. The store owner told Tanner that one of them had a Swastika tattoo, and someone else said they had a Nazi flag in the back window of their van."
"White supremacists? Neo-Nazi's? What's this world coming to when you can't even escape this kind of garbage in the wilderness?"
"You can't hide from evil," he said, remembering the times he had tried. "It always finds you. Danny Chou and his family learned that the hard way."
"Was he ... is he--"
"Dead," Duncan filled in the blank she left. "I don't know. He wasn't when I left him in town with the doctor. Danny lost a lot of blood, but the doctor still thought he would pull through. He put him on oxygen and started an IV before he called for the med-evac helicopter. I had to find Mei Lin and Kim - I couldn't wait with him."
Other images of Danny sparring with him at the dojo filtered through his mind, and ignited a smile. Despite the fact that Danny was five inches shorter, besting him always took considerable effort. "He's tougher than he looks ... and stubborn as hell."
Sara rested her hand on his arm. "Don't worry - he's in good hands. Joe Reynolds is a excellent doctor, and a very special man. He had offers from some of the best clinics and medical groups in the country, but he prefers to be needed, instead of wealthy."
Duncan nodded as he refrained from asking Sara just how special Joe Reynolds was, and what he meant to her. He wished she wasn't so damned attractive. Wished she didn't remind him of Tessa - even if the resemblance ended at the blonde hair and the determined cut of her jaw. He couldn't allow himself the distraction right now. He had to figure a way to get into that house and rescue Kim and Mei Lin ... if they were still alive. He pleaded with whichever gods were listening to let them be alive.
"So what do we do now?" Sara asked.
"We?" he replied moving a little closer to the edge of the wooded area. "I don't know what I'm going to do yet, but you're staying here." He heard Sara inhale deeply. She was preparing for another tirade - he knew it. "Don't argue," he cautioned.
Sara's searing stare told him he'd lost the argument before it had begun. It didn't take much guesswork to know that she wouldn't do what he told her to. She hadn't since they met; he didn't hold much hope that she would start now. He sighed. "Someone save me from stubborn women, " he muttered, looking up to the sky. "Okay, I give up - we are going to have to come up with a plan.
Sara smiled a long slow smile, then moved up to stand next to him. "How many guys are there?"
"I wish I knew. Tanner said there were four in the store, one driving the truck and the leader. That makes six, but they could have met up with more in the woods."
As they watched in silence, another man came out on the porch to join the first. Familiar chilling tentacles slithered over Duncan's skin. Before the sound of rushing wind could touch his ears, he jumped back, turned abruptly, then sprinted into thicker cover. His heart raced as he leaned against the far side of a large oak, and he hoped it would be enough to prevent the other Immortal from sensing him. It might already be too late.
"MacLeod!" Sara's voice hissed from behind him. "What the hell is the matter with you?"
He grabbed her arm as she stepped into view, and he pulled her around in front of him. She shook his hand free. "Are you crazy. Why did you run? Do you know that guy, or did you see a ghost?"
Venting his frustration, Duncan tipped his head back and banged it against the tree trunk. No time for lengthy explanations. He lowered his head and stared deep into her eyes. He needed her to believe him. "He's an Immortal."
"Like you? How do you know?"
"I sensed him. And if I could sense him, he may have sensed me. You were watching him. Did he look around at all, like maybe he heard something or felt something?"
"Sensed ... I don't understand--"
"You don't have to understand," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Did he look around?"
"I don't know. You startled me when you ran. I didn't stop to look, I just ran after you."
Duncan scowled at her again, willing her to understand. Willing her to trust him - and willing her to obey. "Can you see the house from here?"
Sara leaned to look around the tree. "No, not really."
"Is anyone coming?"
Sara rolled her eyes, and looked at him like he was an idiot. "MacLeod, if somebody was coming, I would have told you. I'm not stupid."
"I didn't think you were," he said quickly, to forestall another argument. He reached out and placed one hand on her shoulder. He tightened his grip. "This is very important. I can't go back there or he will know we're here. You'll have to go alone." He hadn't sensed her faint buzz until she was standing less than two feet from him. He hoped the other Immortal couldn't either. He had to chance it.
"Watch him. See if he is behaving normally - as though nothing strange happened. If he is, come right back. If he or any of the other men look like they are searching for something, run like your life depended on it. It will."
"Okay" Sara nodded, her eyes solemn. She shifted her backpack, then clutching her rifle, she stepped aside to move around the tree. "Be right back, she said with a wink.
As she moved, Duncan noticed the hatchet swinging from her belt. He thought of something else. It was too soon, but she had to know. "Sara," he said, stopping her.
She cast a questioning glance in his direction.
"If he comes at you and you can't get away, shoot him, then use the hatchet." He took a deep breath and a big chance. "And cut off his head."
Sara's eyes widened. He had pushed the boundaries of her credibility. He hoped they would hold. "Y-you want me to chop off his head?"
"Yes." He waited for the explosion.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Perfectly reasonable request, Sara," she muttered. "He wants you to cut off the guy's head." Turning on her heel, she strode away in the direction of the cabin. As her ponytail swung out of sight, he heard her mumbling. "I suppose he'll want me to drive a stake through his heart, as well."
Duncan sighed as he leaned back into the tree. "He's an Immortal, Sara, not a vampire," he said, knowing she couldn't hear him, but not if she believed him.
Sara had been gone longer than Duncan thought necessary. He stood still enough to feel his pulse throb in his throat. His ears ached with the effort of sifting through the natural forest sounds for the unnatural snap of a twig breaking or leaves crunching underfoot. He held his breath. Held his arms high. His hands gripped the hilt of his katana until the carvings cut into his palms. Like tightly compressed springs, his muscles tensed for instant action. And he waited for the whirring buzz that would alert him to the approach of another Immortal.
The rasping whisper came without warning - and way too close for any safety margin. "Psst, MacLeod ... It's me, Sara."
Centuries of conditioned response triggered a chain reaction. Every muscle in his body answered the call, and only Herculean effort stopped his arm from completing the arc that would have sliced through her neck.
Ducking, Sara jumped back out of range, as the sword whistled through the air. Scrambling backwards, she tripped, then landed hard in the underbrush. "Jeeze, MacLeod.., you almost killed me!"
All the air rushed out of Duncan's lungs. Completely drained of every ounce of energy, he sank back against the tree, his eyes closed, katana loose at his side. Sara scrambled to her feet, devouring air in great gulps. She bent over to rest her hands on her knees. "I didn't think you were serious," she gasped between labored breaths, "a-about all this decapitation stuff ... but I guess I was wrong."
Duncan moved with the swiftness of striking cobra. He grabbed Sara's arm and held it until his fingers sank into unyielding muscle. He pulled her to him with a force that dragged her off her feet. "Don't ever sneak up on me like that again!" The words rang like hammer blows on steel.
Sara stared, her eyes wide pools of emerald terror. Duncan watched anger surge up to replace the fear. She struggled to break his grip.
"Let go of me! You're crazy," She kicked him hard in the shins, then brought her knee up, aiming it at his groin. Instinct more than conscious thought made him step to the side, avoiding the blow. He lost his balance and fell, taking her with him. He landed on his back knocking the breath and most of his anger out of him. But Sara still fought, punching him soundly in the jaw. He finally managed to grasp both of her hands in his. He pulled them down to his side, and tucked them between his arms and his body, then he wrapped his arms around her.
He held her for a moment staring into eyes that blazed with anger forged in fear. Sliding his hand up to the back of her head, he pulled her to him, then kissed her. She struggled against him for a second, then he felt her relax. Her lips softened, as she accepted his kiss and returned it.
After a moment, his brain finally caught up with what his body was doing; he released her.
With her hands pressed against his chest. Sara pushed herself up. She stared down at him with a long analyzing look, then she spoke softly. "You're beyond crazy, MacLeod. You're downright certifiable." She stood, then took a few steps away from him.
He rolled to a sitting position. "Sara, I'm sorry ... I didn't mean--"
She slipped her hands into her pockets, then turned her back to him. "It's okay, you don't have to apologize. Coming up from behind you like that was stupid - really stupid. I just didn't think."
She lowered her head and scuffed the toe of her hiking boot in the dirt. "I'm rapidly finding out that there's a big gap between writing about these situations and actually living them," she said, lifting her shoulders as she sighed. "I'd never let one of my heroines do something that dumb, but all I could think of was telling you that it looked like those guys don't know we're here."
He got up, then moved to stand behind her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he let his thumbs caress the soft skin of her neck, then he turned her to face him with a gentle pressure. "You know, you're very good. I didn't hear you coming until you were on top of me."
Sara smiled. "I've had lots of practice stalking animals. My father taught me."
Duncan raised an eyebrow. "You're a hunter?" She hadn't seemed the type.
"No, of course not! I love animals. I only shoot them with a camera. You can't make any noise or you scare them off. Kind of ruins the picture." She grinned.
He took her hand and led her back to the tree, wanting its mass between him and the other Immortal just in case. Sara's fingers trembled in his hand, and he knew she was still fearful. She hid it well - he had to give her that.
"Did you get a good look at them?"
Sara nodded. "The one that seems to be the leader - the one you think is ...ah, like you - is one scary-looking dude."
Duncan frowned. Hard to tell if he knew him from that description. He knew lots of Immortals who could fit scary-looking. "Can you describe him?"
Sara smiled. "I can do better than that." She reached into one of the pockets of her vest and produced a Polaroid picture.
Duncan couldn't believe it. "You took his picture?"
"Yeah ... well, I had the camera. I always carry one. It doesn't have a telephoto lens, so it's not very clear, but I thought if we had to give the police descriptions ... well, you know what they say about pictures."
"Better than a thousand words," he mumbled, holding the photo up to examine it. Even though the images were slightly out of focus, an icy terror slithered down his spine as he recognized the man standing at the porch railing. That face had haunted his worst nightmares for decades. Fear congealed in his stomach, and an overwhelming sense of impending doom threatened to suffocate him. The photo slipped from his fingers, as he slipped back in time to 1940.