"Let me get this straight. You're saying...your race is capable of coming back after beheading?" Duncan wondered if he sounded as dazed as he felt. Connor frowned. "Don't get me wrong. I've never heard of such a thing--and I'm sure Ramirez never did, or he would have told me. "But what could it be, if not the one difference I know of between me and most other Immortals?" No one had an answer for that. At last Duncan said, "Ramirez was beheaded. And you beheaded the Kurgan. They didn't come back to life...did they?" "No. But I've been thinking about that. Duncan, I can't believe you brought a body and severed head--secretly-- all the way from New York to the Highlands. What exactly did you bring?" Too late, Duncan saw where this was going. To a place he'd hoped never to visit again. In a choked voice, he said, "Ashes." "I think that's it," Connor breathed. "Even though I buried Ramirez's head and body in the same coffin-- placed the head on his shoulders--they were still separate. You had my remains cremated--" He made a strangled sound at that point, as if he'd just heard what he was saying. But then he swallowed hard and continued. "All the ashes were mingled together." They sat in shocked silence for five minutes, until Richie broke the spell by muttering, "But the ashes were in an urn. Buried..." Connor shrugged. "How do bullets get out of Immortals' bodies?" After more reflection, Richie spoke up again. "Is it possible *any* dead Immortal could be revived that way?" All three older men shook their heads. "Immortals are often cremated," Duncan told him. "If they were routinely coming back to life, we would have heard about it long ago. But something that only affects a small subgroup could have gone unnoticed." Connor said bitterly, "I wonder if I revived when I did because it was New Year's, or because it was my stupid *birthday*? For which I was, in a sense, appropriately dressed... "God. For all I know, my subspecies may all be born on New Year's. Or something like it in other cultures." "Connor..." Richie hesitated, then plunged ahead. "I have to ask. From our point of view, you were dead for two months. Did you experience anything on the other side?" Duncan winced. "Not a frigging thing. Or if I did, I can't remember it." Connor closed his eyes, but not before Duncan had glimpsed the pain in their depths. "I felt a hard hit to the side of my neck...just a stunning blow, no sensation of being cut. And next thing I knew I was sitting in the snow, buck naked, wondering how I'd gotten there. "I...I think, for the rest of my days, I'll be...trying to remember. To recall if I actually did see my bonny Heather... "Damn it, it's not fair!" This time it was his fist that crashed into the table, and sent cutlery flying. "Life is never *fair*."