A Little Death
"Wait until you see what I've found-I think you'll like it," Kronos told him as they walked up the stairs.
"I can only imagine," Methos said, but inwardly, he was wondering, just what unnecessary outrage, now? It was good that they were together again, and it was a fine thing to kill the Hunters, but sometimes Kronos could still be excessive. He never changed, and Methos almost knew what to expect.
"This is something a little different," Kronos responded. They were at the door. As it opened, Methos' suspicion was confirmed-a victim, or rather, she looked every inch the victim. A pale, naked redhead was sprawled on the bed, with blue lips and fingernails, and a knife protruding from her chest. She seemed young, although who knew how old she might be? As she was "dead", no revealing "buzz" emanated from her.
"Immortal?" Methos asked.
"Definitely. I found her myself five years ago. She has certain talents that you might enjoy." Kronos' eyes were alight with the memory. "I certainly did."
"But why the…"
"The knife?" At this, he laughed. "She can be unpredictable. Do you want to know how I found her this last time? She was in a car-riddled with bullets. The Watchers had caught up with her, but she had her own Watcher in the car with her-she must have particularly hated him. When I pulled her dead body out of the car, she had this in her hand." He held up the little prize. It was a human eye, brown and very glazed from much handling.
"I'd hate to think what she might have done with the other…" Methos replied, understanding what Kronos might see in her.
Again, Kronos was moved to laughter. "I think she fed it to him-just what I'd expect from her. She has a little gift for viciousness." At this, he looked down on her with something almost approaching tenderness. "That's why I went looking for her." He pulled the knife out of her chest.
She gasped, and her eyes flew open. The sounds she made were horrible, but then, she had been stuck for quite some time. Her fingers clutched at the rapidly closing hole in her chest, and she doubled over, wheezing. When she became whole enough to breathe normally, she began wiping at the bit of blood on herself, as if completely unconcerned at the presence of two Immortals in the room with her, or with her own nudity. Methos thought, ruefully, that this might be the only good thing to come of Horton and his group-Immortal's minds were less on the Game.
She looked around, and he noticed the strange way her eyes seemed to hide in dark hollows, like she was haunted. For a young face, they looked old, and they were blue-the type of light blue one tends to notice. She fixed on Kronos, and the look that crossed her face was one of confusion mixed with delight.
"It can't be-Kronos! I didn't think I would ever see you again!" She breathed it with a catch in her voice, then rose and went to him. As she walked, he could see why Kronos must have first selected her-she was of a certain type, compact, muscular, large-breasted. He could pick a woman the way he did a horse.
She threw her arms around Kronos, and kissed him deeply. It was as if Methos were not in the room at all-she was so wrapped up in his "brother." She whispered so low that Methos could just catch the words. "Oh, I thought of you all the time, just hoping…"
He understood then-after a certain age, one gets used to it-and he knew now she was young, because that accent could only have been bred in the 20th century somewhere in the East Coast of the U. S. Kronos had completely thrown her over-taken her heart and soul-because he could. She knew what and who he was, and, of course, she was impressed. The poor thing, her heart would have been his for the taking.
Then, she turned and looked at him with a particularly probing discernment, and he sensed intelligence-and not the type of intelligence he'd have expected from her at first glance.
"I remember you--from the picture. Kronos, this is the one you rode with, isn't it? The one you talked about? The oldest-Methos?" It wasn't just that she knew who he was that bothered him, but the way she looked at him, as if she were very hungry, and seeing something very edible.
Another smile from Kronos, and then he quickly bowed his head to kiss her on the neck. His breath felt warm against her as he spoke-
"There was a time when my Brother and I would share everything."
She looked thoughtful. "Everything…" she echoed, as it dawned on her. She looked at Methos with interest, and almost seemed to be asking him when she repeated it.
"Everything?"
"Everything," Kronos responded, and she had a look so lewd that Methos realized the two of them might have the same sort of mind. As if by way of explanation, Kronos added, "She's a whore."
The woman took no slight offense at this. "Please. He knows I was-hello-a whore-and he probably doesn't even know my name yet. I'm Genevieve," she said, and offered her hand to him in that uniquely "Yank" sort of way. When Methos took her hand, however, she pulled him towards herself.
"The oldest, aren't you? Damn, I think I see how."
Whatever she meant by that, he felt flattered, and he felt a little something when she tilted her head up to graze her lips against his-the warmth of her touch and genuine excitement. She opened her lips just enough for him to realize that she was inviting him to do anything to her, and knew what Kronos meant by "whore." She was one of those women who was always ready to go. He found his tongue exploring her mouth with abandon.
She had taken on two men before, although in her memory, not two as exciting as this. She felt ready for anything. Her hand was already on Methos' fly-she wanted to strip him and see if he was as gorgeous without clothes-but she wouldn't. Methos looked at her with surprise-she was going to guide this, even though he and Kronos had, in their time, screwed countless like herself. She didn't seem to care. As if she had done this to any number of men, she pushed him against the slightly bloodstained bed she had just recently risen from. He could imagine she was good with a sword-with strength like that. She then said, "I guess you can find your way out of your clothes, can't you?"
He just looked at her and smiled. Kronos hung back, just behind her, amused by her forwardness-just how he thought she would be. She then turned to him.
"Ain't going to turn Watcher on me?"
He grabbed her roughly. "You bitch."
"I think the word was 'whore'."
He grabbed her wrist so tightly Methos thought he would snap it, and all the while Genevieve looked as if she was having the time of her life. "Kronos," she began, with lowered eyes-playing submissive, and fiddling with his fly, now. "Would you enjoy me while I show Methos what I can do?"
His eyes lit up-that was always a part of the plan. "Show him, then. But you know what part I'll take." At this, she only smiled.
"You obviously got old by being a frigging slacker," she said, turning back to Methos, and with a practiced touch, she skinned the jeans off of him. "Boxers, man-damn, you must be the oldest." With a less-practiced, and somewhat rougher, touch, she had these shed, and then she simply stared. She looked at his cock with a singular interest, and then shook her head.
"There is absolutely nothing good I have to say about evolution-five thousand years, how man hath declined-shit oh dear," she rambled. Then her mouth, pink, rose-bud-like, and lined with the sharpest, whitest teeth, enveloped the head of his prick, and, wetly, she slid her lips down and down, almost deep-throating him. She seemed to be gauging where he best liked this pleasure.
She licked at him, then, still looking for the key-and then she touched those sharp teeth just slightly below the head of his prick, and he shuddered, slightly. At a rhythmic pace, she began to suck right there, pulling on the head, lingering at the top, licking all the while. She had found the key.
She then seemed to shift position and to spread her legs. Kronos had come behind her, and from a certain intake of breath, he knew that Kronos had entered her from behind. He opened his eyes to take a look at her. The face of a woman in this act was always pleasant-she seemed in agony. He could tell that in this position-the position Kronos was taking her in-it was her wont to scream. She was holding back cries of pleasure, only to concentrate on his member. Thinking of how she must be twisting with excitement, he felt the familiar throbbing, and his eyes closed again.
He felt her hand tighten on the shaft of his prick, and she firmly moved her hand up and down, trying to speed up the inevitable. He could tell what was happening with her by the way that she writhed, her breasts brushing against his legs.
She left off of his prick, and then she began licking his balls. She gasped momentarily as she did, but it was nice, the way her breath was hot, and her tongue was so warm, passionate. She seemed to do this in a trance. It was beginning to happen. He saw the flush in her face, and she left off altogether. She grit her teeth, and he heard a small anguished sound. She was coming.
He wondered if it was a tear or sweat that he saw trickling down her face, but did not wonder long, as she went back to work on the head of his prick, and this time, she was going to work with a will. He came explosively, and she never let up-she swallowed, not unused to the taste. Her face was one of contentment, even as Kronos finally came, and she shuddered anew. This time, she rose herself up on her arms, and stretched herself back, almost thrusting her ass against Kronos' body with violence. A flicker of pain crossed her face-but it was the sort of pain she was well accustomed to, and it wasn't an unpleasant kind.
When he withdrew, she gasped again, looking over her shoulder. She smiled at Kronos with a touch of appreciation.
"Damn," was all she would say, and she settled herself on the bed alongside Methos. One hand began to play with his again-stiffening prick, and she beckoned to Kronos to come and lie on top of her. He practically slithered over her, and they were kissing again, consumed with each other. She then asked, quietly, "Should I, you know, have him?" And she bit her lip after asking, trying to seem shy. She could look very young and almost innocent, if she wanted to. Kronos knew her better than that.
"Go ahead-he'll have you before the night is out," he answered. "Of course, I would have you return the favor you showed him."
"Do I have any say in this?" Methos asked.
Genevieve turned and lay against him, and then kissed him. Her legs straddled him, and she seemed to be searching his face for something-he felt strangely as if they had known each other before. "Do you mind if I fuck you? I mean…" and she slid against him, "if I did this?" She took him inside of her, and then she said, "You know, there are worse things a girl could do."
"By all means," he answered, cupping one breast. She noticed how peaceful his face seemed, and she enjoyed looking at him. He fascinated her. She didn't know if she was so horny for him because he was the oldest-or if it was simply because he was so good-looking. Either made a good reason.
Kronos came up behind her, and squeezed her other tit-almost twisting the nipple uncomfortably, chastising her. "You promised," he reminded, and she smiled. She didn't mind this after all. It was as if she lived just for this. With one hand, she braced herself against Methos' chest and raised herself up, and then swung one leg over. She still straddled Methos, but faced the other direction. She now faced Kronos, who knelt between Methos' spread legs. She could see what he wanted out of her-the favor she'd be returning. She licked the head of his cock, and then licked her lips.
She looked up, slyly, a grin crossing her features. "Did I ever mention that I like the taste of you?"
He grabbed the back of her head, forcing her face down upon him. Before she found his entire cock in her mouth, she said one thing-"Bastard!" But she closed her lips around it, and began. His eyes closed, and he smiled-she was always such a willing slut, and that wasn't the half of it.
She did what she had to do-but somewhere between grinding herself against Methos and coating Kronos' dick with her spit, her eyes rolled in her head, and she fell forward, unconscious. It had been a long time since she had slept, other than the sleep of death, or eaten. She was exhausted. Kronos wrapped his hand under her jaw, lifting her face.
"Damn," he cursed. She slumped to the side, pulling away from Methos, who was now rising to see what had happened.
"What?" Methos asked, concerned.
"The little bitch passed out. Well, there is an answer for that," he said, draping her over his arm, and dragging her off the side of the bed. He slapped her face gently, but she was out of it. She made a moaning sound, low and throaty, but she didn't seem to wake.
"I've seen her do this before-when she was…"
"She's catatonic. How long had she been dead?" Methos asked.
"A day," Kronos answered, beginning to drag her towards the bathroom. He paused. "She was-disturbed-when I let her live. Like this," and he gestured at her, "at times. And she talked of the Watchers…I don't know," he said, and Methos thought he saw concern on Kronos' face. There was a first.
She was dumped into the shower, and the water was turned on-cold. Her eyes fluttered, and she didn't seem surprised at what had happened. She even smiled. Methos turned the shower off.
"I could use a drink," she said. "When I get like this, I seriously want a drink."
"What we're getting you, is a solid meal," Methos said. "You haven't even taken care of yourself-how long has it been?"
"Since the Watchers blew up my husband," she began, rambling. "He just wanted to take my car to work for a change. I knew they were out there, but I never thought they would do that. They threatened me-the rest of my family, but I never… I couldn't let it go. Maybe five months, I've done this. I drink, mostly. Sometimes I stop, but…"
"Kronos, for God's sake, look at her."
He did, and realizing Methos was right, he left.
Methos knelt.
"You hid it very well."
"I always have," she answered. She sniffed, and seemed to be holding back tears. "It was good though-to feel contact. To know I wasn't alone. That was the worst thing-being alone."
Methos held her for a moment, letting her cry against him. He suddenly thought she would understand. "I almost married a mortal-Jillian. A Watcher, but not one of them. She died because of me. She died because she loved me."
Genevieve squeezed him, and sighed. "This whole thing is a sorry fucking waste-worse than the Game-worse than anything we could come up with. Methos-I love Kronos, but he expects the world of me."
"Why is that?" he asked. She was puzzling, but Kronos did seem to treat her differently from any other woman.
She pulled away from him, and the look she gave him was one of complete despair. "You mean you don't know? He didn't explain? Oh, God, that's why the Watchers hate me most of all."
She gathered herself together, settling into a fetal position there in the shower. She seemed younger and smaller than before. "I know a way to kill the world, and I've thought about it-I could do it. Kronos and I-I created a virus, and he wanted to use it. It would be our legacy. But it would, you know, destroy everything."
She looked at him then, with tears standing in her eyes, suddenly fierce. "I never wanted that!"
And then she rose, damply glistening.
"You didn't see where Kronos put my fucking clothes, did you?"
Methos stood aside as she reached for a towel, suddenly tough and strong. He realized she might be something to be reckoned with-whatever she was. Weak one moment-in charge the next. Once in a towel, she was all motion-looking for her bloody clothes-and completely beautiful.
"He might have disposed of them. They would have been full of blood-he said you were riddled with bullets," Methos said, following her, and feeling like a total shit. Of course, she had to remember what she had been doing. How could she not remember that?
"I…was." She looked blank. She seemed to be thinking hard about this-very hard. "I had killed that Watcher-he came particularly for me. He waited until I had a fight-and a Quickening-so he could kill me. But they only sent one! The fucks! Those bastards! I'm young, but I fucking count!" She fumed. "One guy, to take me out. I wasn't having it-it was an insult. That prick, Richardson."
"You've had a busy-time," Methos said, lamely. He even realized that, in her parlance, he was being lame. But he didn't know if she would mind that.
"Does Kronos have his eye? I took that."
She seemed like a warlord of a forgotten age in her anger. She twitched with anger-it was apparent she felt rage. She seemed royally pissed. He was looking at a little killer-no wonder Kronos liked her.
"He has it-he was proud of you."
"Fine." She found a pair of jeans. They belonged to Kronos, and they rode low on her hips. She cuffed the legs. She then went looking for a shirt. She really needed a bra-but she made do by tying a tee shirt tightly below her breasts. The effect was interesting. She sighed and sat at the edge of the bed.
"You and Kronos-you hunt the Hunters?"
"Yes, we do now. They deserve it."
"I was once appalled at what you were-the Horsemen. Not now-the times call for it. And if you kill them-I'm with you, because I can't stand to just-stand by, and let them wipe us out."
He nodded, and he knew she would be ready-she didn't seem to know hesitation.
Kronos entered-he had pulled on a pair of jogging pants before he left and looked bizarre in them. They didn't seem to meet his natural pose of ancient menace and Genevieve felt a wave of affection for him-and amusement. Methos caught her look of amusement, and smiled at her. He felt the same way. Kronos had brought fast food, and she found it comforting. They spoke of what they needed to do-and Genevieve had her own ideas.
She whispered something into Kronos' ear that seemed to please him. Methos didn't catch the flavor of it-but knowing them both by now-he realized what they might be planning.
"But, first Dawson-then Horton?" Kronos asked.
"Yes," Genevieve answered. Killing a Watcher was not a problem for her-and she knew she had to prove herself. That would be her way. And besides-she had been a killer since she was-twenty, at least.
Methos thought grimly about his young protégé-Richie. The boy couldn't even bring himself to kill one man-a cripple! But he didn't think this would make Genevieve pause. Not by the way she licked her lips over the thought of murder-especially of Watchers.
He wondered if her association with Kronos made her this way-violent.
That night, she slept in Kronos' bed, and he knew for certain. It was Kronos. She belonged to him-and would do anything to please him. She might as well have been made in his image-ready for any outrage.
He didn't know that it hadn't always been that way. There was a time when she had refused Kronos' offer to join him.
She promised herself she would never make a mistake like that again.
*****
"Are you ready?" Methos asked, urgently. He didn't know why-but he felt concerned for her. He knew she had killed before, but he didn't know if she would pass this test.
"I was born ready," she answered, not with bravado-but out of honesty. She knew what this was about, and it felt good.
She kissed Kronos before she went-as much for luck as to remind herself why she was doing this. He had reminded her of the fake name she had given him all those years ago-and she still thought it fit her. In a corner, she would be vicious, and she felt like she was in a corner right now, as a matter of fact. She had her gun at the ready-a .45, loaded with Black Rhinos-cop killers, they were called. If she wanted a man down, a man would be down. She learned this in the neighborhood, and it bore out in the rest of the world-have the right ammo, and you can cope with anything.
She silently glided up the stairs and her heart pounded at the idea of claiming a man she did not know. She knew she had to do it though-this was her initiation. Hell, some gangs had beat-downs, and for women, there was the ever-popular being passed-around. She shuddered at these. To kill a Watcher-even some used-up guy? This was nothing.
She saw the man in the chair-he seemed a little like her old man. He was screwed up in 'Nam, too. Her old man had taught her how to fight-he did. He had held a knife on her just to see what she would do. Her father had his legs; he just didn't have his right mind. But maybe this guy was better off dead. She didn't think about it-she took aim, ignoring how he looked at her. She shot before he could speak. Two shells fired, and he was dead.
Out of nowhere, another man appeared-a man with tan skin and soft brown eyes.
"This all wrong. I don't know you."
"I don't know you either," she said. "I just know that you're dead." She fired a few more shots, and the man was laid out before her. She took note of how muscular and fit he seemed. He could almost have been an Immortal-but he was a dead guy, now.
She had a few gifts for the crime-scene-she had a few incendiary devices stowed in her purse. All it would take would be-twenty minutes, tops. Just about the length of time Kronos and Methos had given her. Then she would be free and clear-and this place would be en fuego.
*****
She was laughing as she entered the car. "I blew it up-I blew it up good," she said, gleeful. "That was a cowboy-style hit-they will be thinking about that one!"
"I see. Very nice touch," Methos added.
"I wonder-what will we do next?" Kronos asked.
"I know!" she squealed, feeling the rush of a fresh kill. She whispered into Kronos' adorable ear. She thought he had adorable ears, and realized she was such a whore-she loved every inch of him. Kronos smiled at what she had to say, and this made her happy. She lived to see him smile like that.
"What's the plan?" Methos asked, tensely.
Genevieve laughed, and Kronos was all smiles.
"Death, Methos. A plague, of course. We ride."