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“And that’s it. I don’t remember anything else until Detective Wolfe here kicked my bed.”
“Oh, come on. You expect us to believe that?” Bert was incredulous. “I’ve read the report. No champagne glasses, no knife, and only your wife’s blood anywhere. How do you explain that?”
“I can’t. I’ve had lots of shrinks tell me about selective amnesia, temporary hysteria, and lots of other things. My lawyer found sleep experts who testified that I could have cleaned up in my sleep, too traumatized to pay attention to my wife lying there bleeding to death. Did she fall and hit her head? Did someone else come and drug me and kill her and then somehow put the suggestion in my mind? They didn’t know and neither do I. They all said I wouldn’t be convicted and I believed them. But no, Detective Wolfe’s evidence was taken above all those experts. The judge listened to him instead of them.”
Nick was incredulous. “Yeah, right. Maybe the old guy who waited a few hours to call it in because he thought you might be having loud sex? He was what? Around eighty, ninety?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember. But I do know that I loved her and wouldn’t hurt her. I loved her. I would never hurt her. In two hundred years, I had never felt such love. I’d rather see her alive without me than dead.”
“Mr. Reynolds, that’s a very sad story, and I’m very sorry your wife died, but why did you stay in jail? Why not fake your death and move away? Start over?” Amanda looked at the man whose face betrayed hurt, sorrow and anger.
“I stayed in jail in case I deserved it. In case I did kill my precious Laura. I thought Wolfe was an honorable man and would do that same thing. I was wrong.”
“Oh, he probably would have stayed,” replied Amanda. “Good thing he has less than honorable friends to knock some sense into him. But why did you go after him? All he did was his job based on what he saw. You didn’t have to stay in jail; you didn’t even need to go through the trial. Why did you kill Lucy? How could the death of an innocent woman possibly avenge your wife’s death?” Amanda kept the anger out of her voice.
“I wanted him to know what it felt like! I wanted to wipe that smug, confident look off his face! Oh, I knew he was a pre-immortal back then. I sat in my jail cell and thought of what I would do when I got out. I’d wait for him, or hunt him down and make him pay for what he did.” Spittle formed around his lips. Bert started to say something but Amanda stopped him.
Reynolds continued. “And it worked perfectly. I found out that you were working for Myers and set up the museum security job. You both fell for that very quickly. I sent Ms Becker a note about a security breach at the penthouse. I was going to kidnap her and leave you a note, but you showed up early, so I used the drugs on you as soon as you entered the lobby. Not enough to knock you out, just enough to make you woozy and cooperative. I was wearing the uniform of one of the guards for the building and told Ms Becker I had found you in the elevator, and did she know you? She was worried and let us into the apartment. From there it was easy. The right drugs at the right time, you always carry a gun and a quick clean up when I was finished. I would have liked to leave your fingerprints around, but it was important to get rid of mine.”
“Thanks for the confession,” said Bert. “I’m going to have your honorable ass back in jail by tonight.”
“Not this time,” said Nick though clenched teeth. “Jail is not an option.”
“But it would clear your name, Nick,” pleaded Bert.
“Avenging Lucy is more important than my name. We’re gonna do this the immortal way.” His sword appeared in his hand.
“You’re darn right we are.” Amanda took out her sword from behind her back.
“Go away Amanda. He’s mine.” Nick did not take his eyes off Reynolds.
“But Nick…” Amanda didn’t want to voice her concern that Nick was a fairly new immortal. She had no idea of his experience but if this guy was telling the truth, he had many more years of experience than Nick did. And she didn’t want to lose Nick so soon after finding him again.
“My challenge is to Wolfe. That was part of my plan. If he wasn’t immortal yet, I’d see he became immortal and take his head then and there. Whether now or when he got out of jail, I was willing to wait. Since he’s immortal, it will just be a little more entertaining,” Ted Reynolds pulled a sword from behind the door.
Amanda stepped between the two men.
“Amanda, go away. Go make sure Bert is safe,” ordered Nick more forcefully. “He did this to me.” Softening his voice, he added, “This is for Lucy for both of us. Please?”
“But what if...?”
“Bert! One of the rules of this game is no interference. Keep Amanda out of this. Shoot her if you have to.”
“Shoot her?” Bert’s voice hitched up a notch but he grabbed Amanda’s arm and dragged her back to the van.
“Ow,” protested Amanda. “Tough guy, huh?” She kept her eyes on the two combatants and her hand on her sword.
“Whatever it takes. She’ll come back!” Nick continued to size up his opponent, his Viking blade steady in both hands. “Come on Reynolds.”
Without saying another word, Reynolds stabbed at Nick’s throat. Reynolds’ sword was an Italian swept-hilt rapier, its blade thinner than Nick’s but with a deadly whip when swung through the air. Lighter and easier to maneuver, Nick barely got his own heavier blade up in time, a slanted parry that managed to deflect Reynolds’ blow. While he was off-balance, Nick retreated one step before beginning a series of quick advances, forcing Reynolds back as their swords continually met with the signature peal of metal on metal.
“Come on Nick.” Amanda’s voice was barely a whisper and to Bert sounded more like a prayer.
Nick worked his opponent back, working quickly until Reynolds stumbled over a slight rise in the ground. Nick’s focus was completely on the fight, reading his opponent, looking for weaknesses. Amanda marveled at his skill, asking herself again who his teacher had been. Nick raised his sword in a mighty double-handed downward swing, Reynolds moved to the right, raising his sword to deflect the blade and punched Nick in the jaw with his left fist.
“Ha ha,” taunted the Italian, his arms wide. “No chance, Kid.”
Stepping back two steps, Nick rubbed his jaw warily. He should have seen that coming. Reynolds now attacked in a flurry of lunges, ending with a move designed to envelop and disarm Nick. He had worked hard since he got out of prison, waiting for this moment. However, he had not expected Nick to be this well-trained. In his heart, he still thought of Nick as a pre-immortal. Honorable or not, he had hoped to take Nick’s head without a fight. Nick blocked every move, holding his ground until he caught Reynolds’ sword arm with his hand. The two men paused, faces close together, until Nick pushed him away, bringing his sword down in another large double-handed sweep. Reynolds ducked in time, the broadsword’s blade shaving off a few of his hairs from his head. He recovered and brought his rapier up to Nick’s throat again.
“Never mess with a master,” he sneered, buying time. He was strong, and as big as Nick, but there was something Nick had that he didn’t. Nick had a cold fury which was controlled but simmering beneath the surface. He ignored the taunt, stepped back and swung again. The sneer left Reynolds’ face as he once again dropped and rolled away from Nick. Nick thrust hard at the felled man, but Reynolds parried expertly, moving his lighter sword quickly.
Amanda took a step forward. Bert took her arm. “No, Amanda, or I’ll shoot you.”
“With what?” asked Amanda, her face all innocence.
Bert reached for his gun, and came up empty. “Give it back Amanda.”
“Oh shh,” she replied.
Reynolds was tiring. His arms were beginning to slow down as he blocked Nick’s attacks. Nick knew this and played with him, wearing him down. Trying to buy some time, he thrust at Nick’s midsection drawing blood and then moved quickly back, hoping to go in for the kill. Nick was too fast though as he ignored the pain, kicked again sending Reynolds reeling around.
Nick was ready. As Reynolds turned back to face him, Nick’s sword sliced through the air and Reynolds’ raised rapier. Reynolds looked at the stump of his sword for one second before his head joined the blade on the ground.
Wisps of steam rose from the body, snaking to the head and the fallen blade. Nick sought Amanda’s eyes. “For Lucy,” he said holding her gaze.
She nodded, tears running down her face. Choking back a sob, she repeated, “For Lucy.” Bert put an arm around her shoulders and she grasped his hand thankfully.
Together they watched as the first flashes of electricity honed in on Nick. Like a lightning rod, the arcs zapped him, pulling him around. He bore it silently, his fists raised, he sword aloft. Colors filled the air, as windows in the house blew out, the glass tinkling to the ground. In the barn, a horse whinnied; nervous of the storm. Bert was glad of his arm around Amanda; he thought perhaps he needed the physical support as much as she needed the emotional contact. Nick fell to his knees, clinging to his sword to keep from falling on his face.
When the last crackle faded away, Bert asked, “What the hell was that?”
“My dear Bert, that was a quickening.” Amanda spoke gently, but her eyes didn’t leave Nick, panting on his knees.
“Does it always happen?”
Amanda removed his arm and smiled over her shoulder as she started on her way to Nick. “Only when you win.” She knelt beside Nick, heedless of the dirt. Brushing the hair from his forehead, she looked into his eyes.
“Now, will you stop worrying about me?” His voice was raspy and charged with emotion. He got to his feet leaning on his sword, opening one arm to hug her to him. “For Lucy,” he said again.
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