Yesterdays Gone (A Highlander FanFic)

Highlander: Yesterdays Gone ~ Part 1 "Time To Kill"

Bitter tears stung his eyes and burned his cheeks, just as the winter rain was freezing his flesh. He gazed down at the freshly turned earth and the solitary wreath, his heart clenching as he swore to avenge her murder. He would never forget the moment he had found her mutilated body and if it took a thousand years, he would find and punish the one responsible!

 Sulphurous grey smoke coiled from the tip of the cigarette. It glowed red for a moment as the nicotine was inhaled and burning white ash fluttered to the ground. For a moment, the flakes seemed half suspended before the snow bank opened to receive them and they melded into its’ icy depths. The expended filter tossed to the floor, joined them a moment later. Within a very few minutes the evening street in Downtown Vancouver bore no evidence that anyone had ever stood there, watching the unusual little shop. He smiled to himself as he walked, head down into the gathering snow storm. The woman had been enjoyable. He wished he could have had the pleasure of seeing the look on her husband’s face when he found her. Still, needs must and his next conquest would be a little more of a challenge – intellectually if not physically at least. He glanced up at the clock on the tram stop shelter. He would have to hurry if he were to make the Meeting in time.

South Coast of Cornwall, Near Falmouth, 1613

 The sails hung ragged from the three masts of the eighty foot Dutch Flute; beating madly in the howling gale that assailed the tiny ship. Waves crashed across the decks, drowning out the screams of both crew and passengers as the tide drove their ship inexorably towards shore. The Captain had long since given up on his desperate attempt to guide his vessel onto the relative but tentative safety of a sandbar. Below decks, timbers creaked and splintered ominously. The flat keel of the Flute had struck the wicked rocks that guarded this section of the coast like jealous sentinels. Wedged, the ship was helpless as the sheer ferocity of nature continued to pound her to pieces. By the time the sun rose, the storm had long gone. Of the ship, there was nothing left except a few pieces of floating timber, gradually carried onto the shore by the tide. One of these carried a passenger. A small boy clung to flotsam, all that was left of the foremast, his limbs stiffened by cold and fatigue. It was mere reflex that kept him holding on as a wave bore him up the beach. He had survived.

British Columbia, Early 21st Century

The mid December sun which shone weakly through the mountains and skyscrapers, upon the city of Vancouver served little to dispel the biting winter cold and harsh icy wind. The sky was clear and ice lay treacherous upon the unsalted pavements. Martin Penwarden shivered and turned up the collar of his black woollen coat against the chill, trying to tuck himself deeper into his scarf as he made his way towards the destination of his choice. In the midst of a block of otherwise ubiquitous storefronts lay one that had caught his eye. He remembered the name from the online store that he had briefly visited from the laptop in his hotel room a few days previously. It was an unusual place, with two distinct specialities - Sci Fi memorabilia and occult supplies. The shop was called “The Lion; the Witch and the Tardis”.

 As Penwarden came to the end of the street, he ran into a large crowd of people, lined up against police tape. They were eagerly gawking at the scene beyond the tape. Frowning slightly, Martin looked over the heads of the couple in front of him. The street was filled with scaffolding and what appeared to be camera equipment. A man was shouting instructions at both camera crews and (Martin assumed them to be) actors. Next to him a woman pushed through the observers to lean against the lamp post near him. The warm scent of very strong coffee reached his nostrils and almost despite himself, Martin glanced at her. A very faint shiver of... something touched his mind; seemed to whisper and then was gone. The girl – woman (he had to keep reminding himself) was certainly striking; crowned with a mane of black hair that seemed to glow like burning coal whenever the sun glinted off it.