A World that Burns
Kronos stood at the window in the dark. Genevieve could just make out his outline-she didn't like it when he left the bed silently like that-it made her worry. She rose, and put her arms around him.
"What are you thinking about?" she whispered, concerned.
"The plan."
Of course, he was thinking about the plan. It was brilliant, and she had assured him that it would work. But that didn't change that there was a part of him that wanted to do the job on a grander scale. They intended to only hit the Watcher European Headquarters-in some ways, he wanted to-
But looking at the light reflected in Genevieve's eyes just then, he knew that could wait. He would be patient, and then, when the time was right, they would begin the second part of it.
They would dismantle the world, piece by piece.
*****
Genevieve had a different way of looking at things from Kronos-she could live outside of the law, but she couldn't imagine a world in which it simply didn't exist. The more she listened to him, however, and the more she looked at the world through his eyes, the more she began to see what he meant.
The world was ripe for a change.
She didn't know if the change needed to be wide-scale destruction, but it needed something-a swift kick in the ass, maybe. Something to get it out of its rut. She came to this realization by paying attention to the news. It dawned on her that she had never really paid attention before-for her, instant access to world events was a given. Most of the information was filtered out based on its relative importance to her. She made the experiment of wondering how it would be for someone born a few thousand years before t.v. -someone who had actually traveled the world over. It occurred to her that something fifty years old-like t.v. news, may not seem that old at all to someone like that.
Trying (in her own, rational/lunatic way) to see things using his paradigm, she made a few discoveries.
She began to see the hopeless cynicism of all foreign policy-the compromising and ass kissing. She saw the brutality of larger nations and the pettiness of others. She could see the stagnated mind-sets that continuously fell back into the "us against them" pattern-endlessly, and she wondered what would happen if those borders were smashed, and the distinctions that were always made were simply rendered useless. A disaster of large proportions might do that, and they could pull it off. If she saw it that way, she could put a name to it-"revolution."
When she thought of it that way, she could see in Kronos something she wondered if he saw in himself. She saw idealism. For all of the violence, brutality, and insanity he could display-she was beginning to see a purpose to it.
It made her a little worried about herself, but there it was. Kronos was an idealist. His ideals simply weren't the same as everyone else's. Secretly, she thought of it all as a "New World Disorder." Pure and simple, he wanted anarchy, and he wanted it, now. And when she thought about what it meant-outside of the deaths of thousands, mind you, she kind of got off on it.
It meant freedom. And not that "Bill of Rights" freedom, subject to countless interpretations, all of them threatening to make the whole thing meaningless. The freedom this would bring about was the freedom to do anything and everything. It meant taking what one would, drinking what one would, smoking what one would, even fucking who one would. She saw nothing wrong with that. It was how she and Kronos lived. She was beginning to wonder if it wasn't, somehow, a right-even more important than the right to live itself-the right to choose one's way.
Having given it all of this thought, she was able to kiss his cheek, and whisper to him, "Kronos, the plan will be perfect. All of it will. And as for the rest of it-I'm ready."
He looked at her with a touch of surprise. "Ready?"
"I know the Headquarters is just the beginning. I know you don't want to stop there. And I don't want us to. You, me, Methos, and Galati-we can wipe out the Watchers…but then what? We're doing that for survival, but survival is not enough."
"You're starting to feel the hunger," he smiled.
"I always feel some kind of hunger when I'm with you," she answered, giving him a warm squeeze. Their lips met, and then she led her idealist back to the bed.
She let him lay her down on the bed and climb on top of her, and then she drew the blanket around them both. It never failed to surprise her how being with him always felt like "home." She held him close, knowing that sex wasn't really on either of their minds. She only wanted to bring him back to the bed so that he would sleep-and so that she could. The bed was very empty without him. She felt better when he was there.
Hearing the soft sounds of his breath as he slept, she began to fade herself. But before she did, she whispered, as she often did, "I love you, Kronos."
She never felt that she could tell or show him that often enough.
*****
"Wake up, Genevieve."
She knew damn well what was against her leg and damn well why he was waking her up. Not that she minded waking up to it. It certainly beat a clock radio. She did a quick self-check-breath, passable…willingness-yep, ready to go. She opened her eyes, stretched, and looked at him, then smiled.
"Aw, I was having this great dream," she began, and then kissed him, "but you're a better one."
"There's something downstairs for you."
"The cyclotron?"
"Better," he answered, and his eyes danced. That could only mean one thing.
"They sent another assassin?"
"Jacob got him a few hours ago-and Methos insisted he be kept alive. He's already been worked over, but they're going to be looking over the details…and since the research has been put on hold…"
She liked this idea so much she rolled over on top of him, kissing him deeply. "Tell me, is it another of the ones who say they want me? I love that."
"It's because you're so bad."
She liked that answer, although she didn't quite believe that was it. Sure, she was the one who developed the virus originally, and when the Evatech Corp. folded and all of the bank accounts were wiped out, they probably caught on the to fact that the corporation was hers. (Kronos was bowled over by the extent of her little organization, right down to its mob-ties. When she brought her resources in, they were in very nice shape.) But it bugged the hell out of her all the same.
She kissed him again, feeling very excited about what she would be getting to do-try out her new room. It was nice to have space to do a little torture in.
"Tell me how bad I am," she purred. He smiled and easily flipped her off of him, then pressed her hard against the bed. His mouth covered hers, and then, nudging her with his knees for her to spread her legs, he entered her.
"I'd tell you, but we don't have all day…"
She clenched her thighs against him, and sighed. "Oh, I think I could do this all day."
"There's an experiment worth making time for."
****
"Hey, baby, tell me about the new assassin," Genevieve smiled as she brushed her hand across Jacob's shoulders. He was making coffee, and she thanked the gods someone was. After what she'd just done with Kronos, she didn't know if she'd be quite competent to figure out coffee.
Jacob returned the smile. He began to see her as almost a particularly bratty younger sister-the kind who could goad a person into anything. She and Methos had taken him out recently, and while he couldn't actually remember half of what they had done-he vaguely remembered it being the time of his life. Occasionally, one or the other of them would make a comment to him about something he had done-and it dawned on him that he'd better get up his alcohol tolerance, or those two would have him for breakfast some morning. He handed her a cup.
"I think he's the same one that you thought had been following you."
"Told you I wasn't paranoid."
He gave her a look-just because she wasn't paranoid did not mean she wasn't crazy.
"So, going to see that musician of yours?" she ribbed, starting to figure out what the correct dosage of sugar would be. She figured-lots. Jacob could be heavy-handed with the coffee-not that she didn't like it strong.
"You mean Claudia?"
"No, I mean Itzaak-frigging-Perlman. Of course, Claudia." She took a sip, and watched his face over the rim of the cup. She was delighted at what she saw-he just might be in love. She hated to admit it, but she was a terrible romantic-she loved to see people find each other. Also, she was glad to see that Jacob was at least trying-she worried about him.
The other thing was-she was fascinated by the idea of another woman in their group-especially one so close to her own age. Although she and Claudia Jardine had obviously very different backgrounds, it would be nice to have another woman around. Even though Jacob gave her every reason to believe that the woman was every bit the diva.
They both turned as Methos entered.
"I've got him knocked out," he explained. "He's a complete ass."
"He's a complete traitor, if that's what you mean," Jacob responded. Seeing the flush of anger on his face, Genevieve wondered just what was going on. He continued, "I can't see how any of us could work with those people. It's disgusting."
"He's like most of us-no trust. No faith. All he knows is the Game," Methos said, shaking his head.
"He's Immortal?" Genevieve gasped, appalled but fascinated. It seemed unthinkable.
"Worse than that-he's good," Methos said. "You should just kill him. If you won't, one of us will. I don't see why you insist…"
"I have to check him out. Who is he?"
"Xavier St. Cloud."
She vaguely knew that name, in the way Immortals, through the Game, generally did get to know of each other, but more than that-she knew his name through her organized-crime sources. He was a thief-and it surprised her that he would be taking a contract for her life, although not too terribly. She suspected he was-well, she didn't like to use this term, but it was the only one she had-a Game hag. He believed in the Game, and killed others hoping to win it. She could just about relate. She had a crazy aunt once who was addicted to lotteries.
"I want to see this character," she said, absently, and then began down the stairs to the basement, coffee still in hand.
"Genevieve…" Methos started, but then saw the pointlessness of it. If she wanted to see the guy, she would see him. She could be a very determined sort.
****
She appreciated the harmless look of the unconscious person chained in their basement-and secretly thanked herself for convincing Kronos that the submarine base he had picked out was a bit too dank. A castle suited her taste much more. Thanks to the miracle of compounded interest on whatever money Kronos actually managed to put into legitimate financial institutions, and Genevieve's freakish gift for the stock market-they actually managed to swing a down payment on a swell little estate. And up-dated what her sensitive modern American taste considered a truly archaic heating system. She actually felt downright cozy as she contemplated what to do with this St. Cloud person.
A very natural part of her just thought of killing him-taking his head and being done with the guy. But there was a part of her that was beginning to think there was a possible "Big Picture" to look at. Here was an Immortal. He was allegedly good at what he did. Why not recruit him to their side?
Taking a sip of coffee, she pulled the needle out of his neck. He stirred. Since he was chained, she didn't mind him being conscious-recruiting a person would certainly have to involve that person being conscious.
Calm, golden-brown eyes surveyed her. She thought he was a very attractive man, for a Game-hag. She rarely thought of people trying to kill her as being people, let alone being attractive people-but she did find him a bit attractive. She elected to say nothing, permitting him the luxury of putting his foot in it.
He did. "You're the Whore-the one I'm supposed to kill."
"You're the asshole chained in the basement of our base of operations-I'd seriously watch who I called a whore, if I were you."
He actually didn't blink at this, but instead responded with a question.
"Does the name fit?"
She smiled. It certainly did.
"That's what they call me. But you can call me Genevieve."
He blinked. Absolutely nothing in her tone seemed hostile-only very, very direct. He wasn't sure exactly how to regard the woman-he had been told she was vicious. She seemed like a child.
Genevieve continued. "I'm Public Enemy Numero Uno with the Watchers, among a few others. But that doesn't quite explain why another Immortal would take this particular job." She grinned then, and he saw just a touch of menace. "So tell me. Why are you being Horton's boy?"
Xavier returned the grin. "He offered me enough. And there is the matter of the Prize. I understand your lot doesn't seem to believe in the Prize."
She shook her head at that. Her definition of the Prize was complete and utter loneliness and getting snuffed out by the Watchers. Kronos and Methos seemed to have no use for it-they killed because it was what they did-and Jacob? He seemed to feel a loyalty to other Immortals that made the Game meaningless. And herself?
She knew she was young, and not terribly skilled. At her size and strength, she didn't believe her odds in the Game were that good. So she would rather not buy into it at all.
"I believe in a lot of things. I believe Horton wants us all dead, and sweetie-that will include you. I believe the world would be a better place if Horton were dead. And I don't believe in the Game-because the people I love and respect most are Immortal. Can you really imagine being the only one?"
"Of course. It's what we are." His voice was a little too confidant-and she knew that meant he would hear her. A person only sounds that confidant when he isn't sure.
"And Horton promised to help you be the only one?"
"He did mention that."
She smiled. It was perfectly idiotic for him to not see the weakness in that. He was in no position-and never had been-to believe that getting involved with the Watchers was going to get him the Prize. Now that he was chained up in front of the very person he was sent to kill-he was in even less of a position to accept that. Methos was right. He was a complete ass.
"The Game-and Horton, mean we all die. Maybe you could win the Prize-if there were one. But there is no winning if Horton and his people win. There's no winning for you-since you can't defend yourself right now. And think about this-in any scenario-whether you are the last one standing-or dead in the next hour or so-all Immortals would be dead. Any student you may have had-dead. Any teacher you may have had that still lives-dead. Any lover-dead. The Game means being alone. Are you saying you like what that means?"
Xavier's face twisted with emotion at that. Defensively, he answered, "It's not about what I would like. The Game is a fact."
"Okay. The Game is a fact. If it were you and me fighting-I'd be dead. If I unchained you right now, and we went at it-by the Rules, I'd have no chance in hell. Now, imagine me dead…"
"Oh, I've done that. I can picture you dead. I was promised quite a bit for it."
"There are three other Immortals in this house who would have no compunction against killing you. I'm the only person who thinks you should be allowed to live. Think about that."
She didn't bother even looking at his face to see what his response to that would be-she simply turned and went back up the stairs. Her coffee needed freshening, and she figured Kronos would be looking for her.
He didn't really like her out of his sight.
*****
"Methos, you did have this one pegged. Thoroughgoing cynic-total ass. He's a load of fun."
He looked up from the newspaper and rolled his eyes at her. "Leave it to you to find that fun. You haven't…"
She grinned at him, evilly, lifting the fresh cup to her lips. "Tortured him? I'm making him think. For most people-that is torture."
"Gen…you're not honestly thinking about…" Methos began, appalled.
Methos had a funny way of knowing what she was planning-just by looking at her. It was as if they operated on the same frequency, or something. Genevieve gave him a quick peck on the forehead.
"Of course I am."
"Of course you are what?" Kronos asked, entering the kitchen. He had gotten used to the friendly closeness between Methos and Genevieve-he saw them as being like best friends-no matter what they had done in the past. He had certainly expressed to the both of them what he thought about their relationship.
"The assassin is Immortal, Kronos," Genevieve said, softly. She knew he didn't necessarily share her views about this.
"And he's an idiot," Methos added, making his disagreement known.
"Oh, please," Genevieve responded, quickly. "I think I can turn him around. And he is supposed to be good at what he does. He doesn't seem hopeless."
Kronos pulled her close, regarding the look in her eyes. Sometimes he wondered where she got the idea that he might spare someone for her sake. Especially someone who had come looking to kill her and take her away from him. He had gotten very used to having her in his bed and in his life. But he knew something about her willfulness. She could be as stubborn as he was.
"I will be the judge of that," he said, his face giving nothing away.
All the same, Genevieve smiled. She kissed him, tenderly. "If I'm wrong, you can have him."
"Don't think I wouldn't. What's the bastard's name?"
"Xavier St. Cloud."
With that, he headed down, and Genevieve followed, fascinated to see what this confrontation would bring. They had worked over mortals before-but she had never seen him do anything but kill other Immortals. She wondered what he might have to say to St. Cloud.
*****
At least Kronos pretended to show an interest in the man before killing him. But it was St. Cloud's own fault, after all. He only listened for about ten minutes before he began looking at both of them strangely, and then sputtered-
"Your plan is, basically, 'Kill them all and nobody gets hurt?'"
Kronos' eyes lit up at that, and Genevieve smiled.
"I think he's got it," Genevieve commented, a bit relieved.
"That's insane. Worse…it's…" At that, his voice trailed off, and he simply looked at them. Something Horton had said about the two of them occurred to him at the moment. He had originally thought it was just Horton being his reactionary, anti-Immortal self. Hearing the way they casually spoke about death, he flashed on something he remembered hearing nearly a thousand years ago-before Horton even brought up the subject.
It was right before the battle where he had his first death-one of the Crusades. There had been a handful of Zoroastrians in his village-strange ducks, really. But they spoke of the same thing Horton brought up when speaking of Kronos-Ahriman, and the end of days. He seemed to think these two would bring about the end, and that was why he wanted them both dead-although he would settle for the woman. He was convinced that the two of them together were far more dangerous than either of them alone.
"It's the end of the world," he concluded.
"Okay, I guess he doesn't get it," Genevieve sighed.
"He won't, either."
"Well," she shrugged. "I did say you could have him. I'll make breakfast."
"I'll just be a minute," he responded.
She gave his shoulder a squeeze and then headed back upstairs. She didn't actually like to watch these things. Sure, it was interesting enough the first few times-but even Quickenings can get old. Well, watching other people getting them, anyway.
*****
"Ooh, you only rattle the pans like that when you're in a mood," Methos commented.
"I'm not…"
They both heard the sound of the explosion from the Quickening.
"I guess it didn't work."
"Damn, you're observant." She started measuring out the pancake mix. Methos knew better than to take it personally, but went on.
"You don't have to tear my head off."
"I…" she started, and then smiled at him. "Okay, yes, I'm in a mood. No, it isn't because Kronos is killing the assassin. And should I make you some?"
"And sausage, if you don't mind."
"Do you know where Jacob got to?"
"Preening, I think."
She didn't have to ask why. This woman, whatever her other talents might be, had certainly had an impact on Jacob's sense of style. In other words-he developed one. He was going to be seeing her for a "brunch date"-Genevieve found that fascinating. Lunch means "getting to know you." Dinner means "and then afterwards we might screw." And breakfast means "touchdown." What the hell does a brunch date mean? She got a little oil in the pan for starting the sausage, humming as she went along.
"Eggs?"
"I think so," Kronos said, appearing in the doorway.
Genevieve snorted. "Quickening munchies." She cranked the flame too high, and then fiddled with it, growling. Damn antiquated kitchen-that was the next thing she would have to work on.
"Listen to her. 'Quickening munchies.' 'Game hag.' And what are those other ones?" Methos asked, amused.
"Immortal-lite, Game-magnet, and Rule-Queen," she giggled. There didn't seem to be words for everything in the Immortal experience, so she came up with her own. It wasn't her fault they were all slangy.
"Next we'll be having a History month and a Pride parade."
"Bite me," she said, cheerfully. Then she looked at Kronos. He seemed-well, the way everyone seems after a good Quickening. Completely and inexplicably wiped out. It never made sense to her. After supposedly taking in someone else's power-one generally felt rotten and powerless. She went to him, and pulled out a chair.
"C'mon, sit down. I guess we'll be burying him after breakfast." She seemed completely calm about it. Just moments ago she had been talking about trying to recruit the man. He studied her face. It revealed nothing.
"You aren't…" he started.
"Disappointed?" she asked, and then kissed him. "Never. It's what we do."
"You don't believe that." He looked at her. Sometimes he wondered just what she did and didn't believe. The only thing he was certain of was that she believed in him.
"It's what we do," she repeated. "Until we don't." She said it very firmly.
It was just ambiguous enough to make sense. And he still had no idea what she believed. Not that it was important. He sat and watched her go back to the stove, wondering if she knew that she was one of the strangest people he had ever known.
She made everything seem normal.
*****
Kronos stopped to admire the view. He could add ditch digging to the list of things the little bitch did well. Feeling eyes on her rear, she paused.
"You know, you got to kill him. You could just be doing this by yourself."
He ignored her. "You do that like you were born to the work."
Genevieve rested on the shovel and glared. She knew he was just riding her, but her background was something she could be a little sensitive about. She got her composure together, and then shook her head.
"You know, over the years you had to have let something slip. I should pry Methos for info of what you were before the Horsemen," she threatened, playfully. He never really talked about that-what he was before. Not that she had to know every detail of his life-but…
He thought for a moment, and then smiled. "I was a king."
She blinked, then slapped her forehead. Her hand rested there, shielding her eyes.
"The worst part is, I'm sure you're not shitting me." He never ceased to amaze her. "Probably not some little backwater, either, huh?"
He paused, holding her in a touch of suspense. "Well, no. It was…"
She put her hands on his shoulders. "No, no, don't tell me. It was probably some serious, important, mind-blowing empire or something. Some kind of foundation-of-civilization-as-we-know-it shit. It's not even noon yet, and you're rocking my world, already."
"That's what I did before breakfast."
She took note of the look in his eyes, and was feeling weak. She shook it off.
"The body is going to get-unpleasant-if we don't take care of this."
"You like it out-of-doors, though."
"Tombs, cars, graves…yep, I ain't picky." She was sinking. "But I do like the smell of fresh soil…and I'm already filthy." She was beginning to rationalize it. Really, it was just a question of rolling the body in and covering it up. It wasn't like they were going to be at it for hours, or anything.
"Like your mind, Genevieve," he said, taking her in his arms.
Although being at it for hours wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing. She worked at her fly and kissed him.
"I'm not getting nekkid, though." The idea of rolling in dirt bare-assed didn't really float her boat.
"You will if I want you to." Two buttons of her denim shirt were undone, and the rest were being seriously compromised.
"Just let me get my boots off," she said, kneeling. She paused to contemplate the flies that settled on the now-mortal remains of Xavier St. Cloud. "You know-there wouldn't have been a graveyard at Bordeaux." She gestured at the surrounding area-the plot was part of the estate.
"Burials at sea."
"Can't fuck in the ocean."
Her shirt was off. "Scuba gear. Picture it." The boots followed. She was rising.
"Kronos-I swear…" She didn't get to finish that thought. He was already all over her, hands on her breasts, body pressed against hers, and lips covering her mouth, and she was sliding towards the dirt. It felt very nice-cool, soft, and completely fucked-up. Her jeans were going, going-gone.
"Friday…" he began. She knew what he meant.
"Methos is checking out the final details-I think. He said he would check the place out today." She slid her hands down his body, sliding his pants off. Her hands grabbed his cock-it felt wonderfully hard. "But we'll have no trouble-the only problem will be prophylaxis."
"The symptoms will take effect in a few hours-it would only be a matter of time…"
"Fight or flight, baby. Anyone reasonably asymptomatic will try to fly the coop. Instead of a localized mystery, we'll have the possibility of a much-harder-to-contain outbreak. I don't want to risk that yet. I'm with Methos."
"Start small and build," Kronos mimicked, employing a less-than-entirely macho sounding voice.
"I still say…we…control the perimeter," she tried to continue, but he was making it very difficult.
"Yes, your little store of Chinese-make AK-47's. Not really the best."
"Good enough for prophylaxis…containing the spread…" she continued gamely. She felt like she was melting. She gasped.
"I never had much use for it."
****
Jacob's heart pounded as he floored the gas. It was just a few miles to the compound. Just a few more miles and it didn't seem like anyone was following them. He didn't like to see Claudia in this condition-but he thanked God that he was conscious. If their positions were reversed, she would have no idea what to do. She was so young, and so naive, no matter how good a face she put on things.
He had no idea how they had tracked them down. It was all a blur, really. Bullets flying, people diving, and the very definite sense that it was very personal. And worst of all, Claudia was caught right in the middle.
He wondered if she could ever forgive him. He never really made it clear what he was a part of, except to tell her that she had to be careful, to keep her eye out for the men with the tattooed wrists, and for God's sake, he had tried to tell her-carry a sword. But she wouldn't listen.
At least this time, he could do something. He got her out of there. It wasn't like-
Irena. He wondered when that would ever go away-if it ever could. He could still feel the sick feeling of taking in her Quickening. He never wanted to know something like that again.
It was just a few more miles to the compound. He wasn't ready for her to meet the rest of them, but maybe it was time she knew. After all, she was Immortal, and they were the Immortals' last hope.
He just hoped Genevieve and Kronos weren't doing anything truly fucked-up when he made the introductions. He could understand their relationship-barely-but they certainly took some getting used to. All the killing, and screwing, and …repeating. Not to mention the fact they both might be a bit insane.
All the same, he envied them, a little. They seemed to find all of this so…easy.
He looked at Claudia's bloody, unconscious form again. He didn't know if he ever would.
*****
He had carried her into the parlor, and laid her down on one of the couches. She was beginning to stir, and she moaned softly as her head was laid against the arm of the couch. He knew she would be disoriented, but it couldn't be helped. She would need the bloody things off, but he didn't want to try stripping her-they hadn't quite gotten to the point where he would feel comfortable doing that. And she would be conscious soon enough.
"Claudia," he called, stroking her dark curls. He wondered if it wasn't perverse to find her so attractive this way-so close to death.
She awoke with a start and looked about her. Her face revealed so much panic that he thought at once to calm her-
"Claudia? Claudia, you're with me. It's okay. You're safe. This is the compound I was talking about. It's home."
"Jacob," she began, looking around her. It was not at all what she had pictured. He had explained it as being a compound-a base of operations. But she was in a fairly palatial estate-nothing like she expected. She took an estimate of the Persian rugs, art, and other furniture-tres cher. Someone certainly had taste.
The truth be told, they picked up the place already furnished.
But he could see the two of them-bearing shovels and looking typically like they had just been doing something fucked-up-on their way in. He felt fairly certain that they would not even realize how they seemed, and almost dreaded the introduction.
He stroked Claudia's face. "You're about to meet two of my friends. Kronos is our chief-and Genevieve is his…" and he thought about that. What to call her? "Whore" didn't quite seem proper. "Girlfriend" seemed a bit weak.
"His woman," he finished. The term sounded strange, but accurate.
And then she laid eyes on the odd couple. The man was filthy-scarred on one eye, imposing, but sexy. The woman was filthy, overdeveloped, and with hair that could not possibly be her real color.
"Jacob," the woman said, cheerfully. "This must be Claudia-and you have had a time of it."
"I was…" Claudia began, but then she looked down at herself. She hadn't realized it had been quite that bad. The woman, Genevieve, approached her.
"Jacob, really. She shouldn't still be in these clothes. I'll see her up to the bathroom, and get her some of mine-they might be a bit big-but they won't be so…nasty. C'mon, Claudia," she said, and reached out her hand. Her hand was rough, but warm. Claudia decided she liked the girl, even if she was a bit overdone.
But before she led her upstairs, the red head turned, looking at Jacob. "You've obviously had a run-in with Watchers. Kronos, I guess you'll want a briefing?"
"Yes, Jacob-tell me anything you noticed."
She then turned back to Claudia. "I can imagine what it was like-or rather, I don't have to. They do get bullet-happy."
"I don't understand."
Genevieve squeezed her hand, realizing how little Jacob had really mentioned to her. "We watch the Watchers-the people who shot you. Jacob, me, Kronos-and Methos, who you'll meet later-we're trying to shut them down. They know what we are, and they are trying to wipe us out."
Claudia nodded. This much she understood.
"We are going to make sure we get them first."
*****
Methos looked out on the HQ-not much different from their last address, really. He had no sympathy for them-that had been bled out of him when Jillian and himself were gunned down. He was cynical before-imagining that Horton was one of the worst men living-but that moment had proved it, in his mind.
That didn't mean he entirely agreed with Genevieve and Kronos' plan. He didn't quite like the way Genevieve had led Kronos this way-he was used to being the advisor. That she had a plan-and that Kronos and that woman were so close-
He tried not to think about her. He knew she still thought about him. Both of them used the same words to try and cover it up-"just friends." "A moment in time." "It won't happen again."
He knew it wouldn't. Kronos had made that much clear.
He thought back-it was still like old times. He knew what they were planning this time was more deadly than anything they could have pulled off in the old days, but it was still the same idea-sweep down on them like a wolf on the fold. Destroy them all. He hadn't expected the taste for this to come roaring back, but it had. Kronos had been right: this was what he was meant to be.
It was true enough for him to regret having ever doubted him.
He went over the plan in his mind.
There would be a truck to deliver the food for the dinner that was planned-this type of meeting was usually a catered affair-but they did go cheap. Not a problem to take it over, and introduce the serum to the food. Anyone who ate-would be infected. They would show no immediate ill result. And then, during the night, the first cases would show. The symptoms would be severe enough for anyone to recognize where it came from-what it was. "Mysterium"-with a twist. And hopefully-Genevieve and Kronos would have decided on the prophylaxis approach.
The end result would be, as Gen put it-a total "cowboy" job. No question at all that it was intentional. No question to the rest of the Watcher group what it would mean. No question at all who had done it. Genevieve certainly had a point.
No reason not to take a mob-style approach. After all-the four of them were a mob.
It was almost like the old days.
Only with much, much better weapons. He knew what the plague would do-and unlike Kronos-he realized that the AK-47's were the best Genevieve could get on short notice-what with her "guys she knew from some, you know-guys."
They would do the job.
*****
"Why are you so, um…" Claudia began. That Genevieve seemed to be completely covered in dirt seemed unusual to say the least.
She looked down at herself, realizing she was a total mess. "Oh, well, Kronos and I were…" She paused, wondering if the truth was a good idea-or a thoroughly bad one. She decided that, since the woman had been sprayed with bullets and still seemed pretty together, she would be able to handle the truth. "We were disposing of a body."
Claudia's face went blank. "A person you killed?"
"Yes, a person we killed." Genevieve reached out and touched one soil-streaked finger to a bloody bullet-hole in Claudia's shirt. She looked her in the eye. "This is the kind of shit we're dealing with. Sometimes we have to kill people. It sucks, but there it is. If they succeeded in what they were doing, both you and Jacob would have been hit, and then beheaded. Just because of what you are. What we are."
"I see."
From the set look on her face, Genevieve could tell she wasn't just saying that. She did see, and was able to deal with the idea of the necessity of what they were doing. She was tougher than one would think to look at her. But there was one thing Genevieve had to remark on.
"Jacob tells me you don't carry a sword."
Claudia looked at the floor, feeling very uncomfortable. It was bad enough that the shirt was drying and sticking to her skin in a way that was driving her crazy-she so wanted a shower! But she certainly didn't want to explain why she didn't carry a sword. It was bad enough trying to defend her position to Jacob, but to have to make it clear to a stranger, especially at a moment like this-it wasn't the time.
"Look, I made a conscious decision that I didn't want to be a part of this. Immortals beheading other Immortals-it's insane. There are things more important to me than the Game," she began, but at that, Genevieve cut her short.
"Sure. The Game is crap. I'm not saying you should carry one, and I sure as hell won't defend the Game. I just wanted to tell you that what happened today, is not the last time it will happen. And we still live in a world where the Game is practiced. The four of us carry a gun and a sword-it's what we have to do. Jacob has real feelings for you. I just wanted you to know-if you don't carry it for yourself, carry it for someone who cares for you. You don't want to get yourself killed."
Genevieve went over the chest of drawers in the bedroom and found something for herself to change into-she could grab a quickie shower in the lab.
"Bathroom's through there-and you're welcome to whatever I have-these drawers are mine. Think about what I said." And with that, she made her exit.
Claudia stood, thinking for a moment, and then turned to enter the bathroom. She began pulling the shirt off, and winced at the way the dried blood made this difficult. She looked down in horror at what she saw-blood everywhere, dried streaks of it on her skin. It was bad enough to see the holes in her shirt, but to realize that there had been holes in her body-
She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, and saw a wreck. She had died one time at the hands of a stalker, and that experience had been bad enough. She intellectually knew that she would or could survive something like this, but to have actually done it was almost too much. She shed the rest of her clothes, started the water, and then climbed in, letting the water pelt her, and feeling thankful to get that blood off of her. But she couldn't stop thinking about it-the Watchers had done this to her because of what she was. They had wanted her and Jacob dead.
Before this happened, she had been prepared to reject it all, just as entirely as she rejected the Game. Now, she saw what it was about. She never really gave a thought to fighting for her own existence-but this was about all Immortals. Jacob had hinted that, if they succeeded, they might even find a way to end the Game itself.
That might be worth fighting for.
*****
She paced the lab, toweling off her hair. She sometimes went back over the plan in her mind, checking the samples, obsessing over the details. Even though she had assured Kronos that the plan was perfect, she knew nothing ever was really perfect. The trick was not to completely screw it all up.
Strange to remember that five years ago, this idea had completely disgusted her.
Of course, five years ago, the virus was her own creation. It was horribly vicious, fast acting, airborne, and it scared the hell out of her. And Kronos had scared the hell out of her, too. Now, they had worked on something together-a plague bacillus far more controllable than her original mistake. And now, she slept in his bed each night.
It all still scared the hell out of her. It felt perfect, but nothing was ever really perfect. They were flirting with Apocalypse-stuff. It could all go horribly wrong.
The signature hit her, and she smiled. He did the same thing-come in here and make sure everything seemed to be in order. But seeing that he was still a mess, she realized he was actually there for the shower. She forgot what she had been brooding about at the sight of him.
"Jacob thinks they're recruiting more-almost as if they were preparing for something. He said the group that attacked them was five in strength."
Genevieve thought about that. "Foot soldiers. They're preparing for a war."
"That's what they're going to get."
"The more they recruit, the more people know about us."
"And?"
He was right. There was no turning back, now. They would simply have to brace themselves against the consequences of what they were doing. She sighed.
"And it doesn't matter. We have the means to wipe out anything that stands in our way."
"Exactly," he said, pausing to kiss her. "Methos is back. He wants to talk with you."
For some reason, that made her very concerned. She tossed the towel over a stool, and left the lab, wondering what Methos wanted with her.
*****
"Helicopters?" she asked, incredulously. "
"Two of them. On the roof. Obviously, we were right-it's some kind of meeting, and Horton is definitely going to be there."
"But that means he could just as easily slip out-that's what you're getting at. You're trying to talk me out of it, as if I'm the one you have to convince." She shot him a wry look. "You know, you have known him longer. You are older." She grinned outright then. "Wiser, allegedly. Why talk to me?"
"Because Kronos doesn't trust me as much as he trusts you."
Bullshit, she thought to herself.
She looked down to hide her smile, wondering just what sort of a moron he thought she was. "I'm not doing it. I know why you're asking me. It doesn't matter. It still goes down. We'll take the machine guns-I'll see what I can do about getting something that will down a 'copter. And by the way-I don't have any second thoughts about this, any more than you do. You can't shit me, Methos. You know what we're on the verge of, and you like it."
He looked away, and laughed. "You're right. I just wanted to be sure."
"Why would I wuss out? It's my frigging idea. Well, and Kronos'."
Methos couldn't answer her. It wasn't that he didn't have an answer, but rather, the answer he had was something she didn't need to hear. He knew that if she backed out, pure and simple, she'd be dead. Whatever she thought her relationship with Kronos might be, he wouldn't think twice about killing her. He didn't want to tell her that, so he changed the subject.
"What do you make of Claudia?"
Genevieve looked at him, thoughtfully. "She's tough. They pumped her full of holes, and when she came to, she wasn't hysterical. She didn't cry or anything. She knows what we do and seems to accept that. She's all right."
"All right?"
"But none of this comes naturally to her. You know what Jacob said-she didn't even carry a sword. I told her about that."
"None of us get a choice," Methos shrugged. "She's going to have to. Or she will die."
"Don't I know it," Genevieve agreed. That was the stupid thing about Immortality after all. The moment you realize that you're Immortal, you end up thinking about death, constantly. But something in the way he said it made her think he had another meaning.
Classic Methos, she thought. She realized it was the things he didn't say that she had to listen to.
*****
"Keep your eyes closed," Jacob warned, with a smile.
"What is it?" Claudia laughed, but she was very puzzled. She wasn't exactly in the mood for surprises, given what had happened earlier, but Jacob seemed so excited when he thought of it, she felt fairly certain that it was something good. He led her into the room, and then stopped.
"Okay, you can open them now."
She looked at it and simply stared, elated. Then, she went to it.
"A piano? You guys have a piano?"
"It came with the place. I don't know why they put a piano in the library, but I knew you would like it. It probably isn't in tune, but…"
She tried a few keys. "It isn't. But it's something."
Jacob put his arms around her. "You're something."
She seemed so happy that he decided he wouldn't tell her about Friday, just yet. She would understand, he thought, but it would be wrong to spring it on her like that. He still wasn't sure just how much he wanted to let on about the plan to her, anyway. The one thing he wanted to make clear though-it was dangerous.
He had a bad feeling about it.
*****
"All's quiet along the Rhone."
"What the?"
"Sorry. Couldn't resist," Genevieve commented into the headphone. This was the most boring thing she could recall doing in this whole time. If people were inside of that building dying, you could have fooled her. The "What the?" came from Kronos, who was very tense.
"Hour four. The first case should have appeared by now," he said.
"Negative. Symptoms would have begun, but who knows when someone would be alerted to them?" she reminded him.
"What are the symptoms, anyway?" Jacob asked.
"You don't want to know," Methos answered.
They were each stationed about the perimeter of the HQ, equipped with an AK-47 and a headphone to keep in contact at the first sign of any "weirdness," to use Genevieve's very accurate term for it.
"No, really. You said they were grisly. I want to know."
"Ever see a dead body that's been left out for a few days?" Kronos asked.
""Sure," Jacob replied.
"Imagine that while you're still alive."
"Jesus."
Genevieve looked up at the night sky. The moon was full, illuminating the whole scene. She was very fond of the sight of the full moon-it was almost comforting. It was a very nice night for people to die, she thought. She never saw the results of the virus on a human being-her test subjects had been animals, back in the day. She hadn't wanted Kronos to try the bacillus on humans, but she relented, eventually. That had been an interesting month. Those trials had been done away from the compound-they were the only people who really would have appreciated the things they learned. She let Kronos handle the actual tests, though-only analyzing the blood samples afterwards. Her imagination did the rest.
And even now she wouldn't get to actually see what the disease did. She would just know that something was happening within the walls of the ivy-covered building before her.
Part of her thought it was a kind of cowardice not to see and know her victims. Another part of her was thankful for it. She might lose her nerve then-not that it wasn't too late. She went back to looking through the binoculars.
"Activity spotted, south end. I think it's started," Methos said.
The calmness with which he said it brought it home to her-it was going down. The sores to begin with, and the fever. And then the shakes, and the decay-she closed her eyes. She was responsible. Sure, all of them were involved. But thinking about what this would do to people made her realize that she was the one who reminded Kronos of this. She cursed herself for the momentary uncertainty.
Kronos wanted this. She wanted this. It was happening. End of story. Pissed at herself, she dug her nails into the palms of her hands until they bled. She told herself she was only wigging because she'd been watching for too long.
She wondered how the Watchers ever did it.
*****
Kronos half-envied Methos for seeing something on his end. He also wished he could be seeing the results up close. That was the one thing that could be said for the old days-the killing was always up-close and personal. One would come home with blood on his hands-blood up to the elbow, and know the day had been good. But it was enough to know that the morning would bring a mystery-something that would make Jonestown and Heaven's Gate look like nothing.
The Watchers would seem like a cult. But the way they died would hardly seem like a mass suicide-it would be a mass homicide. Depending on how much information escaped-this story would be big. The mortal world would be talking about it for a long time. And well they should.
He saw lights going on in different rooms of the HQ, and realized he was seeing the beginnings of the panic, himself. It brought a smile to his face, knowing they were beginning to die-knowing they were beginning to wonder what had happened. This had been what he wanted. It was good to bring terror to people like this. First-these Watchers, and then-perhaps the world. Or rather-not the whole world, but just enough of it to bring about the change.
He wasn't sure what the change would be. He only knew he wanted to see it. He wanted the world to know what they were, though-he, Methos, Jacob and Genevieve. They weren't the Horsemen, but they were his.
The whole world might be his: the way things were going. It was only a matter of time.
He paused to look at the moon for a second. It hung like an omen, or like a god, watching them. He couldn't shake the feeling that the time had come. This was a legacy worth having-terror.
First this-then the world.
*****
Methos looked calmly on the scene-someone had thrown himself out of the bloody window. It was almost an amusing response to what was happening. After all-a mere two stories' drop wasn't likely to kill a mortal, only injure him. For a person witnessing himself rapidly decaying-what good would getting seriously injured do? Make his death more unpleasant? It was ridiculous.
The man never rose. He was going nowhere. Methos could imagine him lying there and dying, horribly. What sensations did the man know, lying there like that? Pain, obviously, and fear? Or did he have a good angel on his side? Was he knocked unconscious, to die like a coward in his sleep? He didn't know. He could only stare at the small figure of a man lying there.
Good for him-lying there was good. If he had risen, he'd have been shot.
He wondered, briefly, how Genevieve had talked Kronos into this plan. The plague part was pure Kronos-a new art of killing, tremendously grisly? Of course Kronos loved the idea. But the thought of keeping it to this one area-localized and controlled?
He knew what Kronos' dreams were. Kronos thought big-and always had. He would torch a village just to watch it burn. There was a day when any outrage pleased him. He remembered that Kronos lived for the screams of fright and the cries for a mercy that would never come. Nothing about him had changed. This was a new method, but the same urge fueled it. That urge was power.
He couldn't call himself immune to it, anymore. He was remembering himself-he made people scream like that. He could remember people on their knees, begging him for mercy.
There was something he didn't quite like though. Those helicopters meant an escape plan. He knew the Watchers were certainly aware of them and their activities-the assassins, most of them claiming, amusingly enough, to be after Genevieve, proved that. But what if they somehow had an idea that this was the plan? It was strange-he had a sense that he couldn't shake.
The building seemed full of people ready to die.
*****
Claudia would never understand this.
Jacob looked through the binoculars, but nothing was happening. He had told her only that they were going to be wiping out a nest of the bastards. He never mentioned what he darkly suspected.
These people-his friends-were going to go further.
He didn't need them to draw him a picture. Kronos was, for all his talk, a killer. It was his element, and no matter what admirable qualities he might show: that was what he not only did, but what he wanted to do. Even if there was no reason behind it-he sensed Kronos would still be a killer. He tried to see it from the point of view Genevieve laid out for him-she pointed out that he was more than a few thousand years old, and that his time and place had been different. It changed nothing.
Not that killers weren't needed. Not that he wasn't one of the few people he had ever known who seemed to have the balls to do something when he felt the need. He could admire the killer instinct in Kronos-if it meant the destruction of the Watchers.
What about Genevieve? She lived up to her nickname in the first few moments of his meeting her-being in bed with Methos one moment and then pledging her eternal love to Kronos the next. But he knew she loved Kronos. He wondered how much of what she did was for his sake, and how much was her own need for revenge-and? There was something else there-maybe not something he could understand. She was some kind of genius-and Claudia liked her a great deal-but that didn't change that he thought there was something wrong about her.
And then there was Methos. He had learned that Methos was the Oldest one of them-and he always would think of the term "Oldest" with a capital "O". He looked up to the man, but knew Methos always seemed to be in on some joke that no one else knew. He also knew, even though Methos would deny it-that what he had witnessed between himself and Genevieve had meant something to him. The two of them looked at each other with meaningful looks, shared private conversations, and seemed, to all eyes, to be friends. But he could see they cared for each other. Methos was doing this almost because there was nothing else to do. There was obvious tension between Methos and Kronos-something that went well beyond the woman. It seemed as if Methos was doing this to make something up to Kronos. As if there was a debt he couldn't quite repay.
Sometimes he thought that the only person he could be comfortable with was Claudia. She was a few years older than Genevieve was-but a few years younger, in terms of Immortal experience. But even she seemed "contaminated" by the strange air they all breathed.
She had begun carrying a sword, and asking him for lessons on how to use it. She also asked Genevieve about guns.
Something was definitely in the air.
*****
Genevieve saw the wisp of smoke, and knew what it meant. They were ready to die-she had killed enough of them herself to know that. But the wisp of smoke was coming from the west side-and that meant they were beginning to light the fires right in front of Kronos.
They were lighting fires to set the place ablaze-to decontaminate it. Also, they were doing it so that their bodies would be hard to recognize. There were a thousand reasons why they might be doing it, but none of them were as important to her as what Kronos might be seeing. They had not planned for this. The authorities would see only charred bodies-they would not investigate further to know about the terror that made them commit suicide.
Instinctively, she began walking towards the west. She knew he had to be looking at this. She could only imagine what he would be feeling. This was something he had invested some time into.
"Kronos-come in. I see the smoke, over."
She got dead silence, and then she broke into a run. The moon still looked out over the trees, calm as ever. The night was still beautiful.
"Kronos-damn it-speak to me!"
"What is going on?" Methos' voice asked. She paused.
"All hell is breaking loose. They're setting themselves on fire," she responded.
"Shit," she heard. But still, there was nothing from Kronos, and she began running again, and then she saw him. He was also running, but he was running toward the burning building. She didn't know what he was thinking of doing-she only knew she had to stop him.
She thought, momentarily, of using her rifle-but the idea appalled her. She sped up, and felt her lungs burning in the cool of the night air. Her legs felt like they were made of lead, but she ran.
"Kronos!"
He heard her. He stopped for a moment, and she managed to put on speed. He was moving again. She uttered a brief, "Motherfucker," under her breath, and continued. And before she knew, it, the rifle was raised, and she shot him-she didn't know what she hit, but he went down. She kept the pace, running towards him as if she was running for her own life.
She knelt down beside him, and saw she had got him in the back-the exit wound in his chest was scary-but the bullet didn't pass through anything critical. He wasn't in that near-death stage, he even seemed to be healing.
"They can't do this!"
"Shh, Kronos, no."
"They are destroying the evidence! No one will know what we've done!"
She cradled him in her arms, terrified for him. She knew what this meant to him. It meant everything to him. She touched his face, feeling miserable, but knowing it couldn't be helped. This was the one thing they hadn't counted on. The Watchers had free will, and could chose to do something like this.
"Shh, sweetie, there will be a next time. We can do this the next time. Please, Kronos-there's nothing else we can do."
"You shot me."
"I love you. There's nothing we can do-I wouldn't have you trying to-damn! Fuck it all! Damn it-I love you!" She held him tighter. "What the hell would you do? Put out the fires? Stop them from killing themselves? You can't-it's over."
He looked up at her, finally knowing what she felt for him.
"The next time?"
She heard the voice in her ears-she had never lowered the headphones. "We've lost prophylaxis."
"Methos?"
"The helicopters. They've taken off. I'm-heading in your direction."
Silently, she thanked her stars.
Another voice came through-Jacob. "I'm in range-I could bring them down."
Her heart skipped. She made sure that there was at least one anti-air device-a bazooka-archaic, but sufficient. Jacob got the draw on that. She cursed at herself, but she knew how she had to respond.
"Negative. Do not attempt downing the 'copter."
"What?" Kronos asked.
"Helicopters-there are Watchers escaping. They will carry the tale, Kronos. They may even carry the disease. It can still be all right."
"What?" she heard through the earphones.
"We should let them go. Let them go. We'll-be caught, otherwise. I don't want this to be seen as a terrorist attack. Recon, west side."
"Wilco."
She turned to Kronos. He had recovered, and was sitting up, watching the flames. She couldn't imagine what this meant to him; she only kept her arms around him. She buried her face in his shoulder.
"We have to let it burn, Kronos. Let it burn. They will all die. Isn't that enough?"
"They might spread the disease."
"Only through body fluids. Spirochetic-your idea, remember? Slower to spread, and more deadly?"
"It might mean the world."
"Kronos-let it burn."
*****
Methos looked at the two of them-Genevieve on her knees and Kronos in her arms. It practically looked like a Pieta. Her head was bowed, and he could only imagine what was taking place between them. He only knew the helicopters were out of range, now, and that Horton was probably on one of them. He hoped he was dying even as he stood-but part of him thought it wasn't as simple as that.
"They've gone," he said simply, once he was close enough.
"I know," Genevieve said. "It was a shame…but this is how it has to be."
"It could spread."
"No. I don't think so," Kronos said, rising. He held out his hand once he was on his feet, and helped Genevieve to hers. "If they have it-they are dying. And if they don't-they can't."
"But…" Methos started.
"The plan was fool proof," Genevieve said, and her face gave nothing away, even as Jacob appeared, coming from the east side.
"Fool proof?"
"We killed the Watchers-they are burning. And the others will carry the tale."
"Genevieve, this is a disaster, and you know it," Methos whispered. She wasn't listening.
Looking up at Jacob, who was now standing by their side, she said, "It might be time to head home."
"Yes," he echoed. "Let's head home."
*****
"If she doesn't stop that-I may break her fingers," Kronos commented.
"She's freaking out-but you can't blame her. She's young, and she wasn't prepared for this. This is how she relaxes-it's what she likes to do."
"I know," Kronos said. "And I know you want to pop open that champagne and get-what is your word?"
"Wasted."
"It is a waste. Genevieve, this was perfect."
Genevieve let her robe drop to the floor.
"I don't want to get wasted. I want to be with you. This was everything I hoped for, Kronos. We did it."
He viewed her naked form. She stood there, as if she was offering him everything-he knew she would. She would give him everything.
He had made a fire, and she joined him in front of it, on the floor of the bedroom. She lowered herself behind him, and then kissed him on the neck. She had her arms around him, and felt that all was right with the world.
"You know what could happen, don't you?" he said, after a length of time. "They might retaliate. They could get Interpol after us. They could do any number of things. They might know where we live."
"So? We'll move."
He turned to look at her. She smiled, evilly. "We could, you know. This place isn't paid for, and I have something else lined up. Never you worry, baby."
"Genevieve?"
"I had an uncle who said property is theft. Well, this place was a steal."
She saw his look of surprise, and grinned. "Do you know how a place like this is bought?"
He shook his head, wanting to hear what she had to say.
"What you have to do, is prove you can afford to live here. Money had little to do with it. And on paper-we could abundantly afford it. We had all the right paper. I was a corporate magnate-and you, obviously, came from some very old money. They were glad to see us pick up this place.
"But no money ever changed hands-only paper. And the paper we bought this place with is useless. Worthless. Has been, ever since I started playing with the debts-etcetera."
"Genevieve?"
"We've been gloriously squatting here. And, I'm afraid, Dr. and Mrs. Melvin Koren, not to be confused with the Wild West bandit of the same name, are quite bankrupt."
"Is that so?"
"And soon, they might be quite dead. Albeit accidentally. I mean, it will look like an accident. But anyway-their wealth-if you want to call it that-was for the most part taken over by a British national name of Gwen Vickson. She's unmarried, but quite eligible."
"Is she, now? Eligible?"
"Who do you want to be today, Kronos?" Genevieve smiled.
"How?"
"With the help of my solicitor," she answered, simply.
He shook his head at that. "You and Methos work together better than I had ever dreamed. He had a big part in this?"
Genevieve smiled. "I could never have done it without him. We are a good team-we have similar goals."
Kronos looked at her-almost as if he was seeing her for the first time. There was something about her he wanted to know. He turned, and wrapped his fingers in her blood-red hair.
"What are your goals-Miss Gwen Vickson?"
Genevieve's face seemed pensive in the glow of the firelight. "Remember when I gave you the plan for 'Mysterium'? I had a thought-a bad thought-I thought you might be killed. I thought I would never see you again. And for five years, I ate myself alive over that. I wished I were with you.
"Over those five years, anything could have happened. Either of us could have been killed. But we both lived-and somehow-you found me. As if it were fate. Kronos-I had five years of my life without you-that I should have spent with you. Years I can't get back. Years I regret. When I'm with you, I feel like I'm really alive. So I want to give you everything. Everything you want. I love you, Kronos."
"Genevieve…I didn't…"
There was a pause, and her whole life hung from that pause. She waited, wondering what he might say.
He didn't say anything, only continued looking at her. She wished he would tell her he loved her, but knew better than to expect it. She didn't know if he could give her that-so she kissed him. It didn't matter if he said it or didn't say it. Being loved was a demand she felt she had no right to make. It was enough to have him with her.
It was worth the world to her.