Geometry

Chapter 17

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Cradling Marina's body tight against his chest to hide the bullet wounds, Methos jerked his head at Saladin, letting him duck out the warehouse door first after the detective shot the lock out. It'd been centuries since they'd fought together, and truthfully it startled Methos to see how readily Saladin took his lead. Still, his former liegeman's display in front of Marina revealed whatever else Salah was feeling -or doing- he still took the oath he'd made to Methos all those millennia dead seriously. As seriously as that blond cop Vecchio was taking Mina's shooting. He obviously didn't have a clue about Mina being an Immortal; his heart had been bleeding out on the floor as surely as she was.

The street wasn't clear, but when the driver of the black van parked across from his rental jerked and reached for a weapon at the sight of them running out of the warehouse, a hail of gunfire smashed through the window of a third-floor apartment across the street and riddled the front of the van with bullets. Methos and Saladin ducked behind the silver rental car and exchanged grim glances.

"Up the street two blocks, go right," Mina choked out, blood dribbling from her lips, her chest heaving as she struggled to talk with a lung pierced by a bullet. "Red Civic. Keys in my coat pocket."

A spray of blood splattered Methos' cheek as her heart skipped and faltered ominously, her breathing erratic and labored. The end was close now. Methos pressed a reassuring kiss against her forehead. "It'll be over in a moment, a ghra," he murmured, brushing his cheek against hers. "I promise you'll wake in my arms."

"Now, my lord!" Salah raised up and snapped off the last three shots in Mina's pistols, he'd snatched them up off the floor when they skittered from her hands after she was shot. The rain of fire from across the street was focused on the black van, not them, so Salah bolted forward up the street, away from the warehouse. Methos tightened his grip on Mina and followed, his shoulders hunched for the familiar feel of bullets tearing into flesh. Miraculously, none did, but not until they turned the corner and left the gunfight behind did Methos spare a thought for anything but running.

He wasn't even winded, Methos thought bitterly, Marina weighed damn near nothing. And damn Joe anyway for keeping all of this from him, from Duncan. Marina was their fledgling -Duncan would claim she was his alone, jealous git, but forget that- Mina had acknowledged his claim on her own not minutes ago, hadn't she? Still, he and Joe Dawson would have words on this matter when he returned- and very possibly blows, if he did not like the answers he got.

Spotting the red Civic was a profound relief. As they reached it Salah was at his side instantly, rummaging through Marina's coat pockets, and fished out a ring of keys with a small key remote attached. Seconds later they were speeding away and Marina managed one last sentence.

"Take me home," she murmured. Her eyes closed, her breathing stopped as Methos stroked her bloody hair away from her forehead, cradling her lifeless body close.

"I will, a ghra," Methos said, struggling for calm.

"My lord?" Saladin asked, his manner hesitant. Even knowing she would revive, watching her die was a wrench.

Methos gave him the address for the wharf mechanically, he'd memorized it on the plane flight here together with the rest of Mina's current identity information, and to his relief Salah appeared to know enough of Chicago to get them there.

"My lord?"

"Yes, Salah?"

"I'm sorry."