INVISIBLE DARKNESS: An Elena Duran Story 1/4
Vi Moreau (vmoreau@ADELPHIA.NET)
Mon, 17 Dec 2001 08:21:02 -0500
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INVISIBLE DARKNESS
An Elena Duran Story
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By Vi Moreau and Janeen K. Grohsmeyer
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June 23, 2008
Monastery Beach, Carmel, California
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/!Carajo! Fire! I'm on fire!/
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/The pain is absolute--every burning atom of my body is stretched to the =
limit,=20
like on the rack. I always want to crawl into a hole and die, die =
quickly, and=20
never come back, because I can't ever stand this pain. I can still see =
the=20
light, burning my eyes even through tightly-closed lids, night turned =
into day,=20
darkness into brilliance./
=20
/Then the invasion, the violation, as Gavin Stuart--the damned drunken =
Scot who=20
followed me from the hospital and just would not take no for an =
answer--fills=20
me, looking for a fight. I scream during the unique =
aloneness-cum-fusion that=20
is the Quickening./
=20
/But I won! I'm alive! His life, my life--it doesn't matter. Light and =
life=20
and laughter fill me, drown me, bubble forth from me, a fountain more =
brilliant=20
than the lightning of before. Surely, there's enough life in me, and =
enough=20
energy and enough power, to light a small city. Will the corpses in the =
churchyard cemetery across the street suddenly burst forth from their =
graves and=20
scream their own joy at being alive?/
=20
Elena Duran's legs folded completely, limp and useless, her strong legs =
which=20
had kept her dancing close enough to cut Gavin Stuart, =
dancing--mostly--out of=20
the reach of his sharp blade, her legs which had kept her upright during =
the=20
Quickening, until now. She sank farther, right into the ground, =
pummeled again=20
and again by his energy, by his entity, by those brilliant bolts of =
searing=20
rage.
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Elena lay face down on the cold sand of Monastery Beach, reduced to a =
whimpering=20
mass of bruised and bleeding flesh and bone as his psyche sliced through =
her=20
mind, just as his sword had sliced through her body. This second battle =
was=20
always harder. She was so tired, and she hurt so much. She couldn't =
even cry=20
out with the pain; she just lay there squirming, a beetle pinned to a =
board.
=20
And he wanted his revenge. Damn it, no, Gavin Stuart wanted to live! =
He was=20
reaching into her brain, holding her heart in his hand, squeezing her =
very=20
existence out and trying to replace it with his own. He wanted *her.*
=20
No, not again! Elena could see them, all those she had killed during =
her four=20
hundred years of fighting and living and dying. A crowd of men and =
women=20
gibbered at her feet, their hands clutching at her, clawing at her, =
their long-
boned fingers groping blindly into her soul. Robert Trent was there, =
darkly=20
smiling, for he had hacked out a home inside her, taken her over, bent =
her to=20
his will. And Stuart there, on the top of the pile, still strong, and =
if even=20
one of the others touched her, Stuart would have a handhold, and he'd be =
able to=20
pull himself up, slither up all along her own body until he was face to =
face=20
with her. And then ...
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No. Elena closed her eyes and concentrated on ... on being herself. On =
pushing=20
him and the others out of her head, on grinding her teeth together, as =
though=20
that would make any difference. Stuart was a man of strong character. =
Damn=20
him! Why couldn't she be the one who culled the herd and got only the =
easy=20
ones? Why did she always get challenged by strong-willed, expert =
fencers?
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/Maybe *I* look like an easy kill./
=20
Sweat broke out all over her body, and her breathing hadn't slowed down =
yet. =20
No! No, it would *not* happen again, as it had with Robert Trent. It =
wouldn't=20
happen again because she had won! Stuart hadn't been strong enough with =
the=20
sword, and he wasn't strong enough now.
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/I am Mariaelena Conchita Duran y Agramonte, and I've beaten you, =
pendejo, and=20
you can't have me./
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Time flows invisibly in darkness.
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Elena had fainted, but she didn't know when. Her face lay in a hollow =
in the=20
ground, and she could taste the salty tang of sea air, feel the cool =
caress of a=20
heavy summer fog on her back. Sand grated under her cheek, but it was =
still=20
much better than cold concrete or the harsh gravel of pavement. She =
opened her=20
eyes and lifted her head, then rolled over onto her back, closing up =
that gash=20
in her ribs, easing the hurt in her right knee, the light taking the =
place of=20
the pain and of the hollow feeling, and leaving her full of herself. =
Herself,=20
not him. And not the others.
=20
/Just myself, thank you very much./
=20
/You're very welcome./
=20
She giggled, and it turned into a laugh. She was alive, and the =
headless Mr.=20
Gavin Stuart a few meters away was not. Fuck him. Her mind drifted for =
a=20
moment, for there was, in fact, someone else she'd like to fuck. Duncan =
MacLeod=20
was supposed to be entertaining their guests in her ocean-side home. =
But=20
Amanda, Methos, Richie, and Connor and his current lady-love Shannon (a =
redhead=20
of ample proportions) could find something else to do: play Scrabble or =
poker or=20
something. Maybe more music. There was still plenty of food. They'd =
all come=20
into town a few days ago to hear Joe Dawson play in the Monterey Blues =
Festival=20
yesterday, and afterwards Amanda and Methos had displayed unexpected =
musical=20
talent, Amanda being quite the chanteuse while Methos accompanied her on =
the=20
guitar. They'd obviously made music together before, probably in a =
variety of=20
ways.
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Elena was ready to make some music with Duncan. She didn't think Duncan =
would=20
be worried about her just yet; it wasn't even midnight yet, and she'd =
only been=20
gone a few hours. Her housekeeper, Marta Fernandez, had collapsed =
earlier that=20
night in the caretakers' apartment at Elena's house, giving Arturo, =
Marta's=20
husband of thirty-seven years, quite a shock. Elena had followed the =
ambulance=20
to make sure Marta would be well-taken care of. =20
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Earlier that night
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Arturo's hand was bony and cold in Elena's when she squeezed it and =
said,=20
"Remember, your salary continues and your jobs are secure, both of you, =
whenever=20
you're ready to come back."=20
=20
"You are very generous, Elena, as you always have been," Marta said =
softly from=20
her hospital bed, and Arturo nodded vigorously, his once-black mustache =
salt and=20
pepper now. Elena kissed Marta on the cheek and bade the couple =
goodnight, then=20
quickly walked out of the hospital. All hospitals smelled the same, =
even this=20
one with its lovely paintings on the walls and its ornamental fish pond =
in the=20
lobby near the gift shop. The elegant trappings couldn't hide the fact =
that=20
hospitals were places where mortals went to die.
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Two weeks ago, in a hospital in Argentina, Elena had leaned over =
another, older=20
woman, Carmela Onioco, and kissed her cheek for the last time. Carmela =
had been=20
the housekeeper--house manager, really--of Elena's estancia in =
Argentina, and=20
Carmela had also been one of her best friends--one of the few mortals =
who knew=20
Elena's secret. "I was at her mother's bedside when Carmela was born =
eighty=20
years ago, Duncan," Elena had told Duncan when he called later that day. =
=20
"Carmela's mother died at childbirth, and I held the newborn inside my =
shirt for=20
a few hours, giving her my warmth while they scrambled to find a =
nursemaid for=20
her. I've never forgotten that, and I won't forget her."
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"Nor should you," Duncan had said. "Do you want me to come down there =
to be=20
with you for the funeral?"
=20
"No. No, I'll be fine. Thank you."
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"Still coming to California on the eighteenth?"
=20
"Duncan, I'm not in the mood for that, not now."
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"Carmela would want you to go," Duncan had urged her, and Elena knew he =
was=20
right. "You've got tickets for the Blues Festival," Duncan had =
continued with=20
his reasons, "and you've already invited a houseful of people. Joe =
Dawson has=20
gotten better with age, and you'll enjoy it, you know."
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And Duncan had been right again. Elena had enjoyed the three-day =
festival, a=20
lot. And she did enjoy having people who knew and appreciated each =
other in her=20
home, the light and laughter and love.
=20
Outside the hospital, Elena stood on the steps, breathing deeply of the =
cool=20
evening air, catching hints of sweet jasmine and the sharper scent of =
pine. =20
Wisps of fog wreathed the dark branches, and the long summer day was =
fading into=20
twilight. Marta would recover, the doctors had said. It was =
hypertension,=20
easily controlled with medication. She would be fine.
=20
Of course, someday, Marta would die.
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Elena took another breath, then headed for her Mercedes in the visitor =
section=20
of the parking lot. She'd left the top down, and the seats were moist =
with the=20
evening dew. As she opened the car door she sensed the Immortal. Elena =
shrugged and slipped inside the car. "Not tonight, dear," she called =
out and=20
then muttered to herself, "I have a headache and I'm depressed as hell."
=20
The other Immortal's presence faded when she pulled out of the parking =
lot, but=20
she didn't relax until she was down the hill and past the town of =
Carmel, past=20
the traffic lights and traffic jams. She drove down the two-lane =
highway,=20
ignoring the dramatic sunset over the ocean off to her right, and she =
stopped at=20
the Carmelite Monastery to pray.
=20
Unfortunately, that Immortal, obnoxious and insistent, was waiting for =
her when=20
she came off Holy Ground, and so she sighed and crossed the highway on =
foot to=20
fight him on the windswept seashore, hidden from view of passing cars by =
sand=20
dunes and the gathering darkness. Then she took his head.
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Now that Gavin Stuart was dead, Elena wanted to go home. If Duncan had =
started=20
to fret, she could put him right at ease. Or put him right in bed. =
Elena did a=20
pushup to get to a sitting position, then stood, feeling the strength =
coursing=20
back. She picked up her sword and her coat, then trudged through the =
sand back=20
to the highway, where she paused to look both ways for cars. People =
drove like=20
maniacs on this stretch of road, and the darkness was nearly complete, =
this far=20
from town. The moon wouldn't be up for another hour or so.
=20
No cars were coming, but what the hell was that? A noise, or just a bad =
feeling? Or paranoia? Her Watcher, the blond-haired man with the =
glasses? Or=20
her imagination? No. Elena never ignored feelings like these, and she =
didn't=20
think she was just being silly. Adrenaline started pumping as she =
gripped the=20
handle of her sword and looked around sharply, listening, staring off =
into the=20
night, her one eye straining to see ...
=20
She heard nothing. But she saw it, that flash of light streaking toward =
her=20
before the darkness took her again, before the bullets slammed into her =
chest=20
and through her, shattering her ribs. She actually felt her heart =
tremble and=20
stop, so that she died again, by the sea this time, close to a convent =
and to a=20
cemetery full of somber corpses, not so far from an already-beheaded =
man.
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Elena revived, but there was no sand against her cheek this time, no =
smell of=20
the sea. A cold metal chair, cold shudders through her body ... cold, =
so cold,=20
and she couldn't move, couldn't move at all! She was tied down, =
strapped down,=20
tight metal bands at her waist and ankles and wrists, and oh my God, NO! =
Not=20
him! Not this. Not again!
=20
She started to scream, but her chest hurt; Bethel must have shot her or =
stabbed=20
her, and she couldn't get the words out. Gasping, trying to scream--but =
she=20
knew it wouldn't help. It never helped. He never listened, never =
stopped. =20
Bethel had her; he'd trapped her again and strapped her to that cold =
metal chair=20
in his basement, his torture basement, her torture chair ...
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"I'm going to break you,"
=20
Madre de Dios, NO! He was right there, whispering in her ear, and he =
was going=20
to break her, she knew it. He was going to break her again, he was =
going to=20
hurt her, he was going to break her bones and fuck her and burn her and =
rape her=20
and cut her and fuck her again and again, GodohGod no!
=20
Her chest started to heal, but she continued to thrash and struggle in =
fear and=20
agony, knowing it was hopeless. Knew she was hopeless. She knew what =
would=20
happen, what he'd do to her, now that he'd caught her again. Not again! =
Now=20
that she could talk, she screamed out, "!No, os lo pido, tened piedad, =
no por=20
favor, os lo suplico, no! No, no me quemeis, noooo!"
=20
"What toy shall we use today, Elena?"
=20
That voice again, close by her ear, amused, cold, vicious. She started =
begging=20
now, whimpering, not even trying to escape anymore. "!No! !No, Bethel, =
por el=20
amor de Dios, no! !Matame de una vez, os lo suplico! Just kill me, =
please!" she=20
screamed impotently.
=20
The empty space in her eye socket throbbed with remembered agony as she =
pleaded,=20
alone and naked in the cold and dark. "!No, por favor, no me quemeis, =
Bethel,=20
no, matame!" she finally whispered brokenly, knowing it wouldn't do any =
good,=20
knowing she was completely helpless, knowing he would torture her =
anyway, no=20
matter what she said or did.
=20
"I'm going to turn out the lights, Elena, so you will know what being in =
total=20
darkness is really like."
=20
She knew. !Carajo!, she knew. In the dark, there is no time. In the =
dark,=20
there is no hope. Only pain and fear, and despair--total blind despair.
=20
Except ...
=20
Except, it wasn't dark. Dim fluorescent bulbs flickered above, and a =
small high=20
window glowed silver with moonlight. A window? There weren't any =
windows in=20
Bethel's basement, so she couldn't be there. And ... and she wasn't in =
the=20
metal chair, either. She was sitting on a cold, concrete floor, and =
that was=20
duct tape on her wrists, not metal straps. She even had her clothes on. =
She=20
wasn't naked.
=20
But she also wasn't alone.
=20
"Elena Duran." It was a woman's voice, a woman standing in front of =
her,=20
calling her by name.
=20
Not an Immortal, Elena felt no sensation of one of her kind nearby. She =
slowed=20
her mind down a little, just a little, gasping now in relief instead of =
terror,=20
because Bethel wasn't there. Bethel was dead, she remembered that now. =
It=20
couldn't be Bethel, Bethel was dead. Completely and permanently. Elena =
had=20
buried his head in her garden, nearly a dozen years ago. Connor had =
given the=20
head to her as a present, and Bethel was dead.
=20
/No B-Bethel, no Bethel, my God! He's--no, he's dead. It's not him, =
and I'm=20
not chained in his torture chamber, in his basement, and he can't hurt =
me=20
anymore! Bethel is dead, !gracias a Dios!/
=20
She needed to catch her breath. Deep breathing, in through the nose, =
out=20
through the nose. Calm. Pain. Peace. Breathing into the belly. But =
Bethel=20
had worked with a mortal, she thought suddenly, and the cold panic and =
the cold=20
sweats started again ... But no! It wasn't Bethel, it couldn't be =
Bethel. =20
Bethel was dead. Dead.
=20
But Elena was still frightened, because the woman knew Elena's name, and =
Elena=20
was completely helpless at her feet. The healing was almost finished, =
and Elena=20
clamped down on the moans of pain she was making--/a little late, =
Elena!/--and=20
then she focused on the woman standing impassively before her. The =
moonlight=20
from the tiny window slanted across her face, highlighting a snub nose =
and firm=20
chin. Moonlight? Elena shook her head in confusion. For the moon to =
be that=20
high, it had to be two, maybe three in the morning. Had this woman kept =
her=20
dead for hours? Why?
=20
Elena went back to evaluating her captor: mid-forties, slender, maybe a =
head=20
shorter than Elena herself, tendrils of blonde hair escaping from a pony =
tail, a=20
flowered print dress under a beige coat. But Elena didn't have her coat =
on=20
anymore. She didn't have her sword, either; it was lying on the floor, =
next to=20
the blonde's feet. The woman's blue eyes were searing into Elena with =
rage,=20
just as Gavin Stuart's lightning had done.
=20
Who the hell was she? Why was she so angry? Elena had never seen her =
before in=20
her life, so why had the woman shot her? Elena looked around slowly, =
allowing=20
the last remnants of panic and pain to leave her, taking those long =
abdominal=20
breaths, assessing her situation. The walls of the building were =
horizontal=20
wooden planks, the floor cold concrete, and a musty smell of animals and =
a moldy=20
smell of old hay lingered in the air. The scattered pieces of a tractor =
or a=20
car or something lay in the far corner. Maybe a barn or a storage shed =
of some=20
kind? Elena was tied--strapped, actually, with duct tape--to some metal =
pipes=20
that ran down the side of the wall. Had the woman dragged her in here? =
She=20
didn't look strong enough.
=20
/What the hell is going on?/ The woman stood rigidly, jaw tensed, then=20
carefully took a gun out of her coat pocket, holding it almost gingerly =
in her=20
right hand. Angry, yes, but nervous--and scared. Definitely not a =
professional=20
killer. That didn't make Elena feel a hell of a lot better. Elena =
shifted,=20
trying to get comfortable, but her right elbow throbbed with a steady, =
sharp=20
beat. Everything else had healed but that.
=20
The woman began, "You--"
=20
"Who are you?" Elena interrupted, staring right at her captor. It was =
as good a=20
question as any, and Elena wanted to take the initiative, to get some =
answers=20
and *some* measure of control over the situation. Her right elbow was =
twisted=20
funny and hurt like hell, probably dislocated, but Elena didn't think =
the woman=20
knew or would care. Elena would just have to ignore the pain. She'd =
done that=20
before. But it wasn't Bethel, thank God. Anyone, *anything* was better =
than=20
that.
=20
But then the woman lifted the gun and pointed it at her, and Elena saw =
the hated=20
circular tattoo on the woman's wrist. /!Madre de Dios! A Hunter. =
Carajo, I'm=20
fucked./
=20
"Who am I?" the woman repeated, her voice thin and trembling a bit with =
anger--
or maybe with fear? "I am your worst nightmare, Elena Duran."
=20
Elena almost burst into semi-hysterical laughter at the high campiness =
of it,=20
the laugh you laugh after you've just escaped a horrible, terrible fate. =
She=20
would have laughed, too, except she figured it would be a quick way to =
suicide. =20
The woman would probably behead her anyway--that's what Hunters =
did--behead her=20
with her own sword in a dirty shed, while Elena was helpless, strapped =
to metal=20
pipes, not even fighting another Immortal. Duncan would never know, and =
her=20
essence would be lost to murdering Hunters.
=20
But ... the woman hadn't killed her yet. Did she want to gloat? Why? =
Elena=20
took yet another cleansing breath and focused on the woman again. Maybe =
she=20
could live through this after all. "I've had bad nightmares before," =
Elena=20
answered as calmly as she could, trying not to move her elbow. "Some of =
them=20
were even real." She started asking questions again. "What do you want =
from=20
me? And why don't you tell me your name, since you know mine."
=20
The gun didn't waver. "Pamela Johnson, not that it would mean anything =
to you."
=20
"You are right; the name means nothing to me," Elena said, still =
controlled, but=20
she was cursing to herself, because the use of a name meant a lot to =
her. It=20
meant that Pamela Johnson was indeed going to kill her, otherwise she =
wouldn't=20
have given Elena her name and risked having Elena find her later. =
/!Carajo!/ =20
Elena forcibly calmed herself, let the peace take over her mind and =
spirit. =20
Keep Pamela talking. The more she talked, the more chance Elena had of=20
surviving. Maybe.
=20
Of course, dying--even permanently--was not, Elena absolutely knew, the =
worst=20
thing that could happen to her. "Who are you, Pamela Johnson?" she =
asked, again=20
as calmly as possible.
=20
Pamela's eyes flashed with renewed anger. "Who did you think I was =
before, when=20
you were begging and pleading for your life? Bethel? He tortured you, =
didn't=20
he? He got you sobbing, 'No, please don't hurt me!' My Spanish is =
rusty, but=20
terror is the same in any language," Pamela said maliciously, staring =
down at=20
Elena.
=20
Oh, yeah. Elena had provided Pamela Johnson with quite a show, hadn't =
she? All=20
unknowingly, Pamela had tapped into Elena's greatest fear. Perfect, =
just=20
perfect, Elena thought in disgust, then reminded herself to keep cool. =
Never=20
lose your temper in a duel. And this was definitely a duel, a duel to =
the=20
death, and Elena's only weapon was words.
=20
Elena tilted her head to one side, considering her best approach, her =
most=20
effective attack. Pamela was obviously determined--obsessed--for some =
reason,=20
and Elena had to find out why. But Elena decided to risk having Pamela =
erupt=20
into more violence by trying to make the Watcher see she was out of her =
element. =20
And first, Elena had to answer Pamela's question, to prove her own =
strength.
=20
Casually, Elena said, "You reminded me of ... a situation I was in, with =
someone, but he's dead. He was an Immortal. You are not. He was a =
monster and=20
a sadist, who refined the art of torture over decades of hurting people =
for fun,=20
and he hurt me, a lot."
=20
"You think I can't torture you?" Pamela challenged.
=20
Elena smiled ruefully. Torture was definitely not something Pamela had =
done=20
before, no matter how much she hated Immortals, even if she was a =
Hunter. There=20
was bravado in Pamela's words and in her stance, in the gun she was =
gripping as=20
a lifeline, or for protection. Elena pulled experimentally against her =
bonds,=20
left hand only, and found that the claims of duct tape manufacturers =
were=20
completely true. No escaping that way. However, the pipe her left hand =
was=20
strapped to seemed loose, looser than the right. It came further away =
from the=20
wall, and although Elena didn't dare turn her head to examine it, maybe =
she=20
could pull it off in one hard yank, if she got her legs under her and =
if--a big=20
if--Pamela didn't notice, and if Pamela let her guard down and didn't =
just shoot=20
her the minute Elena tried anything. =20
=20
It was still worth a try. She wrapped her hand around the pipe and =
carefully,=20
surreptitiously, began to apply pressure against it, back and forth. =
Meanwhile,=20
more words were called for. Elena countered with a question of her own. =
"Is=20
that why you didn't take my head after you shot me? So you could =
torture me?"
=20
Pamela started to answer, and Elena cut in again, with a mixture of =
conviction=20
and dismissal, "No. Not you. Very few people are capable of =
deliberately=20
inflicting pain on another person like that, and enjoying it." Elena's =
voice=20
was cool and sure, all trace of her panic vanished. "You are not one of =
them,=20
and you know it."
=20
"You're right," Pamela agreed, sharp and brittle, the nervousness =
swallowed by=20
anger once again. "But I also know that you *are* a torturer and a =
murderer,=20
Elena Duran, and that is why I am going to kill you."