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Confident that is until the proximity of another immortal swarmed into his head. Nick increased his speed, all pretense gone, working his way in the opposite direction of the buzzing sensation, his gloved hand reaching into his coat to wrap around the grip of his trusty Colt 1911. Cursing the lack of natural cover, he moved as quickly as he could, hoping to get back to the hotel where he could get into the afternoon session and avoid confrontation. He’d check out and get away from this place as soon as possible. His excellent plan dissolved when a slight figure, clothed in the same dark clothing as the security stepped out from between a shed and a pile of snow directly in front of him.
Keeping her eyes on him, she spoke in Swedish into her microphone. She listened to a few protests before repeating herself, adding, “Because I’m the boss.” in English. She clicked the tiny device off, pulling it off her ear and tucking it into a pocket.
She pulled out a sword and paced towards Nick. “You ready?” she said in English.
“Come on, you don’t want to fight me,” protested Nick, looking down at her. Wisps of blonde hair escaped from the hood of her long parka.
“Of course I do. You’re a threat to my job. Get rid of you and I can sleep at night.” Her brown eyes showed no fear, and her voice was all confidence. With one hand she unzipped the coat and shrugged it off.
“I’m really sorry about this,” said Nick. “But I know you’ll live.” In one fluid move, he extracted his gun and shot at her. He watched in amazement as she ducked and flung something his way. The well-aimed dagger glinted in the midday sunlight as it flew through the air, penetrating the layers of his clothing to find the exact space between his second and third ribs to sink deep into his heart. Staggering once, Nick fell to his knees in the snow before toppling over onto his face.
***
Life came back slowly. Cold had seeped through his clothes into his body and through to his bones. His heart healed, and he sat up suddenly and gasped painfully in the grey light of the shed.
“Good, you’re back. I really didn’t want you to freeze to death.” Her voice came to him from behind him, but he felt the colder steel of her blade at his neck.
“If I’m such a threat, why didn’t you take my head?” He kept his voice cocky despite his feelings.
“Oh, I was going to, and I still might, but curiosity got the better of me, so I dragged you here so I could ask you a few questions first.”
“I guess I don’t have much choice,” answered Nick, noticing that he had been thoroughly searched while he was dead. He was glad that she had dragged him into the shed but wondered how such a slip of a girl had managed that.
“Why the hell don’t you have a sword? Shooting? Isn’t that a little beneath you?” She pressed the blade a little more, causing him to pull back a little. She paused as if something just occurred to her. “You do know what you are and about the game, don’t you?”
For a moment, he thought he’d lie and pretend not to know all the rules of the deadly game immortals participated in. Not really knowing why, he admitted “I don’t want to fight.”
“A big strong boy like you?” mocked his opponent.
“Did you enjoy yourself searching me?” Nick grinned despite the sword at his neck. There was no reaction from his captor, so he added, “Can I get up, or are you going to finish the job?” To his surprise his mind was working furiously on how to disarm this woman.
“I should finish you off, but I’d hate to go down as someone who killed a newbie.” Deciding he was not enough of a threat to dispatch immediately, she removed the blade and watched him stand up. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
Nick fingered the holes in the layers of his clothes to buy some time before replying. “I’m posing as a scientist at the conference at the hotel. I work security, just like you, and my boss and I decided it was easier to pose as him rather than try to protect him while he was here. One is cheaper than two or three. He paused, wanting to gain the upper hand.
Frowning, she walked around him to look at him. “That’s not an option in my case. Has anyone made an attempt yet?”
“You mean other than you?”
“You don’t think I’m the assassin you’re looking for?” Her eyes shone with incredulity.”You wouldn’t have told me all those facts if you thought I was the assassin would you?”
He shrugged. “You could be, but I doubt it. If you really wanted the guy dead, you’d have done so when you found my wallet, immortal or no. If it’s all a ruse to call me out to fight, you’d have killed me as well. Since you haven’t taken the chances you’ve had, I think Dr. Charleston is safe from you.” He paused. “Besides I solved the case this morning. I just decided to look around.”
She laughed at his logic. “Look, newbie Alexander, or whatever your name is, get a teacher and learn to fight properly. Don’t deny what you are. I’m going to let you go, but under a few conditions. Go back to your conference and do your job. My charge is arriving in a few hours for a party at the Icehotel. Don’t come over there while we’re there. I’ll know you’re there and I will kill you. Understand?” She passed him his wallet, pocket knife and gun.
“Perfectly,” said Nick dryly. “Don’t worry, I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
“Good.” The woman hid her sword in her long coat and walked to the door. Her hand on the doorknob, she paused. “Good bye Newbie.”
“It’s Nick Wolfe,” he answered. “And you are?”
“Older and wiser and better than you, Nick Wolfe. Hope you live a long life and you get some training. You could be fun. In more ways than one.” She grinned over her shoulder, opened the door and left. Nick stood in the door and watched her stride back towards the Icehotel. She was good; very, very good. He was intrigued.
***
Pacing the floor of his room as restless as a caged wolf, Nick wished he could go down to the gym to work out. Only through extreme physical activity could he clear his mind to analyze the myriad thoughts tumbling through his mind. However he did not want to be around people right now as he had too much to think about. To his surprise, when that woman was holding the sword to his throat, he wanted to live. He had felt such an urge to leap up and draw his nonexistent sword and duel with her. It had felt so necessary, so primal.
Stripping down to his underwear, he did pushups, then dug out his rope from his bag and skipped until the sweat poured from his body. Since he came to life after dying in the French warehouse, killed by a bullet from his own gun courtesy of Amanda, he had raged against his immortality. He had loved and trusted her and she had betrayed him. After seeing how she had to live, he had wanted none of it. After spitting many angry words at her, he had left, and had not seen her since. Convinced that immortality was not for him, he had pushed it to the back of his mind. His gun had served him faithfully. If confronted by an immortal, he would shoot and get out of town.
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