NOTES: This story takes place somewhere in the second half of the second season of 'Charmed' and somewhere in the second half of the fifth season of 'Highlander.' Please be kind its my first fan fiction. Comments welcome, but flames will be extinguished and happily ignored. This is part one of a three part series.

TIMELINE: This story takes place after Prue quits Buckland's and before Richie dies.

DISCLAIMER: The characters and concepts from Charmed belong to Constance M. Burge and Spelling Television Inc. The characters and concepts from Highlander: The Series belong to Gaumont Television, Davis Panzer Productions Inc. and Rysher Entertainment. Everything is made up.

Chapter 1

"Please be open, please be open, please be open," Phoebe Halliwell chanted like a mantra as she sped down the darkened street. She had been halfway home from her self-defense class when she realized she had forgotten the tax forms for P3 in her locker. When Piper and Prue couldn't pick up the documents from the nightclub's accountant, Phoebe convinced her sisters that she could get the papers before her class. Phoebe resented her reputation as being unreliable though even she had to admit that it was based in some truth.

But I've become much more responsible during the last 18 months, she insisted to herself as she ran a red light. Still, she knew she would never hear the end of it if she didn't come home with those darn forms.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Phoebe sighed with relief as she spotted her instructor's motorcycle by the gym's entrance. She parked her car with the slightest of skid marks and ran to the brick building. My luck must be changing, she thought when the doorknob turned easily in her hand.

Phoebe went straight to the women's locker room and found the papers right where she left them. She collapsed onto one of the benches to catch her breath. Her heart leapt to her throat when she heard a loud thud.

"Hello?" she called out nervously. The only response was another thud followed by a grunt. Uh-oh, here's the part in the horror movie that is my life where the villain comes out to play, Phoebe thought slowly getting to her feet. I knew things were going too well.

Darklighters, demons and warlocks, oh my, she thought as she tiptoed out of the locker room. She headed toward the gym and cautiously peered in to find her instructor squaring off against another man. Hmmmm, from horror flick to gladiator movie, Phoebe thought, cool.

Her instructor was the lanky, boy-next-door type with short, light reddish brown hair and mischievous eyes. His opponent looked like he stepped of the cover of a romance novel. He was tall and muscular with his long, dark hair tied back. Both were dressed in black tank tops and sweat pants. The men circled each other without noticing her and then began exchanging blows. Although she was still a novice, Phoebe could tell that the combatants knew each other's moves pretty well. She was impressed that her instructor was holding his own against someone who was bigger. Yoda's words from "The Empire Strikes Back" sprang into her mind as she watched the fight. "Size matters not." It only matters sometimes, Phoebe thought to herself devilishly. She was in awe at the speed at which they attacked and counter-attacked. Though the punches were not held back, neither man seemed to be suffering any ill effect.

However, as time goes on, inevitably mistakes are made. This time it was her instructor who made the error. Taking advantage of it, his opponent quickly pinned him on his back.

"That's three falls, Rich," the man said cheerfully. "You owe me a beer."

"Next time, Mac," Richie groaned. "I'll get you next time."

"Will we be learning those moves in class?" Phoebe asked startling the two men, "or are they from the intermediate level?"

"Phoebe," Richie said as 'Mac' let him up. "I thought you left."

"I did, but I forgot something in my locker," Phoebe replied then looked at the other man expectantly.

"Oh, sorry," Richie apologized. "Phoebe Halliwell, this is Duncan MacLeod, a friend and personal slave master. Mac, this is Phoebe Halliwell, one of my students."

"Charmed, I'm sure," Duncan said as he kissed her hand. Richie rolled his eyes.

"Likewise," Phoebe giggled at the irony of his choice of words. "Do you teach any of the classes here?"

"I pitch in once in a while," Duncan said when Phoebe noticed the clock over his shoulder.

"Oh man, I didn't realize it was so late," Phoebe said. "I've got to go. It was nice meeting you, Duncan."

"I assure you, the pleasure was all mine," he said.

"I'll walk you to your car," Richie said following her. "You never know who may be out there."

"Isn't that why I'm taking the self-defense course in the first place?" she teased.

"Just humour me, ok?" Richie said as they left the gym.

Duncan smiled as he watched Richie escort the impish brunette out of the gym. He grabbed some water from the cooler as he waited for his friend to come back. Although he missed Joe, he was glad he made the move to San Francisco. In Seacouver, it seemed like every week some immortal was in town looking for his head. Hopefully, I'll get some well-deserved rest here, he thought as he felt Richie return from the parking lot.

"She seems nice," Duncan said as his former student entered the gym.

"She is nice," he replied, "and don't give me that look. We have a strictly teacher-student relationship."

"How is she in class?" Duncan asked as Richie grabbed some water.

"She has potential and enthusiasm," Richie said as they walked to the benches at the other end of the gym. "All she needs to do is focus more."

"Now why does that sound familiar?" Mac chuckled remembering Richie's early lessons.

"Hey," Richie said indignantly though flushed slightly at the memories of how many times Duncan told him to focus and tossed him on his butt when he didn't.

"It's a good thing she saw us when she did," Duncan said as he took his katanna from his coat.

"I know," Richie said retrieving his own sword. "Don't worry. I locked the door. We shouldn't have anymore unexpected visitors."

They walked to the centre of the room and started to circle.

"First one whose blade touches the neck wins," Duncan said laying out the usual terms for the fight. "The loser buys the winner a beer."

"So long as we both clean up the mess afterwards," Richie said. "There's a new class starting at 8:00 tomorrow morning, and they might get nervous if they notice any bloodstains on the floor."

The sound of steel clashing against steel echoed throughout the night.

Chapter 2

Three nights later, Duncan and Richie stood outside P3. The bass of the music inside could be felt through the sidewalk. "I don't know about this," Duncan said looking at the entrance with misgivings.

"If I have to buy the beers, I get to select the place," Richie said enjoying his friend's slight discomfort. "The flyer at the gym said this place just opened. It's new in town. We're new in town. It's practically fate. C'mon, isn't Amanda always telling you to be more spontaneous?"

"Yeah, and the last time she was spontaneous, it cost me 50,000 francs in bail money," Duncan said cringing at the wave of noise that washed over him as they entered the club. Joe's, it's not, he thought thinking of his friend's Seacouver blues bar. He looked around and was surprised to find a familiar face. "Isn't that Phoebe?" he asked.

"Hey, yeah," Richie confirmed. "She must have seen the flyer too."

Phoebe sat at the bar and surveyed the night's crowd. Pretty decent turnout, she thought optimistically as she turned to find her sister muttering something about more swizzle sticks. Tapping Piper on the shoulder, she said, "Behind you."

Piper spun around almost knocking the box over. She thanked her sister smiling distractedly and hurried to the other end of the bar muttering something about napkins. Phoebe chuckled shaking her head knowing that Piper could always find something to fret about. Her smile grew as she spotted two men coming toward her.

"Richie, Duncan, hi!" she greeted.

"I guess you saw the flyer at the gym, too," Richie said.

"Not exactly. I'm the one who put it there," she explained. "I own this place. Well, actually my two sisters and I own it. What do you think?"

"It's great," Richie said turning to Duncan.

"It's, uh, very energetic," Duncan said looking at the dance floor.

"But not your cup of tea?" Phoebe asked smiling up at him.

"Mac's trying to be spontaneous," Richie enlightened Phoebe as he ordered two beers.

Phoebe saw Prue help Piper put some supplies in a cabinet behind the bar and motioned for them to come over.

"Richie, Duncan, these are my sisters Prue and Piper," she said introducing the newcomers. "Prue, Piper, this is Richie Ryan, my self-defense instructor, and his friend Duncan MacLeod. They saw one of the flyers I put up. I told you they would work."

Richie shook their hands then picked up the beers. Piper blushed slightly as Duncan kissed her hand and then Prue's.

"Why don't we sit down?" Phoebe suggested gesturing to a corner that had a plush couch and armchairs.

"I better not," Piper said hesitantly looking back at the bar.

Placing her hands on her sister's shoulders, Phoebe said, "Piper. Repeat after me. 'I'm the manager. I can take a break if I want to.'"

"I'm the manager. I can take a break if I want to," Piper repeated obediently as Prue gently pushed her toward the couch. Richie and Mac followed grinning.

"So, what do you think of San Francisco?" Phoebe asked the men as they sat down.

"It's really nice," Richie said, "though, ask me again after my first earthquake. How's business here?"

"Ok, I guess," Piper replied, "now that the renovations are finished, the supplies are arriving a few days late rather than a few weeks late, and some people, besides the city's inspectors, actually come back more than once."

"The joys of small business," Duncan said.

"What do you do?" Prue asked.

"I sell antiques," he answered.

Prue's blue-grey eyes widened slightly as Piper and Phoebe stole a quick glance at each other. Prue had been "between positions" ever since quitting her job at Buckland's after disagreeing with the new management's ethics.

"Oh, I love this song," Phoebe said. "C'mon, Richie, lets dance." Not waiting for a response, she grabbed his hand and dragged the unsuspecting man to the dance floor leaving Duncan with her sisters.

The sound of crashing glass took Piper's attention away from the departing twosome. "Break's over," she groaned excusing herself. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. MacLeod."

"Please call me Duncan," he said smiling. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

He watched the sweet brunette hurry back to the bar leaving him alone with Prue.

"So," Duncan said in the awkward silence.

"So," Prue repeated.

"Prue," he said slowly, "Halliwell. Did you by any chance work for Buckland's Auction House?"

"How did you know?" she asked in astonishment.

"The antique world is not that big, and it's worth knowing who the players are. If it's any consolation, I think you did the right thing by leaving Buckland's."

"Why's that?" she asked in spite of herself.

"Let's just say I have a feeling that Buckland's won't be a leading force in San Francisco's antique community for much longer. Finding work with a tarnished reputation could be problematic. However, from what I've learned, your professional reputation is unassailable. Do you plan on remaining in the field?"

Prue was momentarily taken aback by how much Duncan knew about her. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "Although for the most part I enjoyed my work at Buckland's, I actually just sort of fell into it. I'm thinking of trying something different."

Duncan looked at her and made a decision. "Would it be too much of an imposition to ask you to stop by the shop sometime? I would be very grateful to get your impression of the set-up."

"Well..." Prue began not quite sure what to say.

"No pressure," he reassured her, "it's just I could really use a second opinion on what I've done, and I don't know anyone else in town that could give me an honest, objective point of view. Please?"

Flattered, Prue said, "Ok, I'll try to stop by sometime."

Chapter 3

"You set me up," Prue accused her sister. She should have known something was up when Phoebe suggested they go shopping. They had been exploring several boutiques when she realized that her sister was leading her slowly but surely to Duncan's shop.

"I did not," Phoebe said with a look of innocence she had perfected during her misspent youth. "Can I help it if the crystal shop was a block away from Duncan's store?"

"Phoebe!"

"What? You promised you'd check out his collection. Now is as good a time as any."

"Phoebe!"

"Prue!"

"Fine."

Prue sighed letting her sister lead her down the street. She still wasn't sure why she agreed to give her opinion on the shop. She had told Duncan the truth about her desire to try something new. She once dreamed of becoming a professional photographer and even planned to go to the east coast to study. Grams, however, insisted she stay in San Francisco. Reluctantly she gave up her dream and dutifully stayed earning an art history degree, which eventually led to Buckland's.

The two women spotted the sign "Bay Street Antiques" and went into the store.

Duncan and Richie were moving a heavy Victorian cabinet when they heard the door's pleasant chime ring and found two familiar brunettes entering the store.

"Prue, Phoebe, you made it," Duncan greeted wincing slightly as his friend's grasp on the cabinet slipped causing it to drop to the floor. "What do you think of the place?"

"Your inventory is amazing," Prue said looking around. Clearly, she wasn't expecting such a varied collection.

"You sure have lots of weapons," Phoebe said motioning to a wall covered with swords, daggers and crossbows.

"During my research, I noticed that no one seemed to deal with antique arms," Duncan explained. "It's a void I'm hoping to fill."

"Boys' toys," Phoebe quipped.

Smiling at her words, Duncan wondered what she would think if she knew at least a quarter of the swords came from Amanda who occasionally sold the ones she had 'relieved' from other immortals. Noticing Prue's attention had been captured by an Art Deco vase, he asked, "how much do you think I should charge?"

After a moment, Prue suggested, "$7,000."

Duncan grinned as he saw Richie and Phoebe's jaws drop at the price. "Why's that?" he prompted.

"May I?" she asked lightly touching the glass.

"By all means," he encouraged eager to see how her mind work.

Picking up the vase carefully, Prue explained, "The glass is heavy, it's marked by R. Lalique who used this particular tone of blue, and has a model number."

"So that vase is worth more than my checking account," Phoebe said with a glazed look. "Well, that's unbelievably depressing. I need a happy. Frappacinos anyone?"

"Sure," Richie said.

"None for me," Prue said.

"Why don't you two go," Duncan suggested. "There's a good coffee bar around the corner."

Richie took a last look at the vase, shook his head and followed Phoebe out the door leaving Prue and Duncan alone.

"So, you think Bay Street Antiques stands a chance?" Duncan asked.

"Once word gets out about your collection, you'll be well on your way," Prue assured him.

"Are you sure I can't interest you in a job? I know you meant what you said the other night, but still --"

"Duncan, I don't --"

"What about a part-time position? We could work around your schedule," he persisted giving her a sad-puppy dog look. "I really could use your help."

"You sure are tenacious," she said with a laugh.

"You have no idea," he said sensing that she was weakening. "How about a six month trial period? If it doesn't work out, no harm, no foul."

"Well," Prue said hesitantly, "ok. Six months."

"Six months," Duncan said quickly shaking her hand to seal the deal before she could change her mind.

Chapter 4

Two months later Duncan was browsing an estate sale in Massachusetts. With Prue's help, his reputation for quality merchandise was building at a nice pace. Once word got out that Prue was working for Bay Street Antiques, many of her Buckland clients became regulars.

True to his word, they worked out a schedule that allowed Prue time to take advantage of the early morning and late afternoon sunlight for taking pictures. Her passion for photography was clearly evident in the photos she showed him weekly. She had an instinct for looking at everyday scenes with a twist to reveal unusual points of view. Prue even combined her two loves by creating a comprehensive database of the store's inventory including photographic records which they converted into a catalogue.

Now that things were getting established, Duncan decided to go on a small buying tour. Prue agreed to watch the store telling him to have some fun but be back soon. While visiting Connor MacLeod, Duncan convinced his kinsman and fellow immortal to come to several estate sales. At the moment, Connor was examining an 18th-century walnut chest.

I wonder what Prue will think of the latest shipment of goods, Duncan thought checking his watch. After calculating the time difference, he took out his cell phone.

Prue just finished opening the shop when the phone rang. She smiled knowingly as she picked up the receiver.

"Bay Street Antiques," she answered.

"Hello, Prue," Duncan said.

"Hi! You're not checking up on me, are you?"

"Never. How are things there?"

"Things are fine. I sold the ceramic elephant yesterday."

"You sold Elmer?" Duncan repeated referring to the nickname Phoebe christened the unattractive statue that somehow appeared in the store's inventory. "I never thought we'd sell that piece. Prue, you're a gem. How can I repay you?"

"Hire another part-time person so I can concentrate on my photography."

"Depending how well we do with the shipment that should be arriving later today, you might get your wish."

"Will I like the new shipment?"

"Oh, I think you'll like it a lot," Duncan assured her. "Anyway, I've got to go now. Have fun."

"Bye, Duncan," Prue said and hung up the phone.

Things were progressing nicely over the past two months. The shop's reputation was steadily growing, and after selling Elmer yesterday, Prue felt like she could sell anything.

Although he valued her expertise, Duncan also knew how much she wanted to become a professional photographer and supported her efforts.

On a personal note, Duncan and Richie somehow became the brothers she and her sisters never had. None of them could quite figure out how or when it happened, but it seemed to work. They had established a pattern of having dinner together at the Halliwells' Victorian home twice a month. The men pitched in at P3 occasionally. Piper catered several dinner parties for Duncan and his clients. While trying to analyze Richie using the techniques she had learned in her psychology course, Phoebe convinced him to enroll in a few classes at the college. Phoebe even put up with Duncan's casual interrogations about her dates.

Thankfully, the three witches had few confrontations with evil recently, and neither man was around to witness it though they had come close. Hours before Duncan and Richie were due for supper, a demon attacked the women. They dispatched it with relative ease and cleaned up the evidence before their company arrived.

Still, the Halliwells knew it was only a matter of time before Duncan or Richie caught them using their powers. The witches felt a bit guilty about keeping secrets from the two men but saw little choice. They could only hope their friends would understand when the truth came out.

A few hours later, the shipment arrived. Prue's eyes lit up like a kid's at Christmas as she opened the first crate. She smiled as she took a quick inventory of the things Duncan had sent and did a rough estimate of the value. She was already making a list in her mind of potential buyers.

"So, how is the incomparable Miss Halliwell?" Connor asked Duncan after catching the tail end of the phone call. He was still unsure of the wisdom of Duncan's relationship with the Halliwells. It had been his experience that forming close relationships with mortals tended to make matters unnecessarily complicated. It was a lesson Duncan never seemed to accept.

"Things are fine," Duncan said knowing Connor's feelings about his situation, "The store is well on its way to becoming a fixture in San Francisco's antique world thanks to Prue."

"Why is it that in 400 years you still have trouble acknowledging the value of a low profile?" Connor asked.

"Stop worrying," Duncan said looking at an oak desk with matching bookcases.

"Tell me how all this happened," Connor ordered.

"I'm not sure exactly how it happened," Duncan confessed. "I was hesitant at first, but the Halliwells treat Richie and I like part of the family, and it's a nice feeling. You should try it sometime."

Connor rolled his eyes as they walked in silence for a few minutes. "Ok," he said. "So tell me about this new family of yours."

"Well, I've already told you about Prue," Duncan said wondering why Connor didn't just drop the subject. "Piper, the middle sister, is one of the sweetest women I've met in a long time. Phoebe's the youngest. Her free spirit and energy remind me of Amanda. Heaven help San Francisco if those two were ever to get together. The resulting chaos would make the 1906 earthquake look like a tremor."

Shaking his head, Connor asked, "do they know?"

"No. Unlike Seacouver, San Francisco is fairly quiet," Duncan answered. Both he and Richie felt a bit guilty for keeping secrets from the women but saw little choice.

"It's inevitable, you know," Connor said pointing out the obvious. "It's simply a matter of time."

"We'll deal with it when it happens," Duncan assured his kinsman. Too be honest, however, he wasn't sure which of them was less convinced.

Chapter 5

"Owww!" Phoebe complained looking up at Richie.

She had been doing well in class but convinced Richie to spar with her off hours occasionally. He tended to be a little tougher on her when it was just the two of them. He explained that because he knew she was capable of more, he was going to push her until she pushed back. She was usually able to get him at least once per session but still spent most of the time on her butt.

"Up you get," Richie said hauling her to her feet. "One more time, and we'll call it a day."

Phoebe groaned but got ready. They started to circle slowly. Richie opened with a series of punches and kicks that Phoebe either dodged or deflected. She followed with several kicks, one of, which connected knocking the wind out of him for a moment. Phoebe pressed her advantage by grabbing his arm and flipping him to the mat. Yes! she thought then felt Richie sweep her legs out from under her causing her to fall to the mat.

"Owww," she groaned. "I don't think my ego can take this much longer."

"You're doing really well," he encouraged as they both sat up resting their elbows on their knees catching their breath.

"Let's just say I'm glad we don't have the same standing bet that you and Duncan have. I'd owe you a brewery by now. We better hit the showers. Prue's expecting us in 45 minutes."

Richie finished first and was waiting in the gym. Phoebe was giving him a ride to the antique store to get Duncan's car. Richie was due at the airport the next day to pick up his friend who was returning from New England. Suddenly, he felt a familiar static in his head warning him an immortal was nearby.

"No, not now," he groaned thinking of Phoebe. The buzz was quite faint so he figured he was relatively safe for the moment. Still, he headed for the office to get his sword.

Five minutes later, Phoebe entered the gym. She noticed Richie in the office. She was waiting by the benches when a vision assaulted her.

"No, not now," she moaned as she crashed to the bench with a thud. She caught a glimpse of Richie watching her through the office window before she was forced to close her eyes. Images of a mugging flashed through her mind. She recognized the place as an alley near the antique store. She saw two young men attacking a woman.

"Phoebe? You ok?" a voice asked startling her.

Phoebe gasped looking up to find a pair of concern-filled eyes returning her gaze. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said. "Just a little dizzy from the workout."

Richie stared at her skeptically as she got up too fast and immediately fell back down.

"Ok," he said. "Give me the keys. I'm driving."

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"Either give me the keys," he warned, "or I'll hotwire the car."

Phoebe regarded the determined look in his eyes then, with a sigh, gave him the keys. Ignoring his outstretched hand, she got up off the bench and headed toward the door.

Richie shook his head and followed her.

Phoebe and Richie entered Bay Street Antiques to find Prue finishing a sale. They watched as the woman left the shop happily clutching her purchase.

"Teapot?" Phoebe guessed.

"Clock," Prue corrected. "How'd the workout go?"

"Fine," Phoebe answered.

"You're driving home," Richie told Prue as he handed her the car keys. "Phoebe had a dizzy spell at the gym."

Prue looked at her sister as though to ask "vision?" Phoebe nodded slightly.

"It's fifteen minutes until closing. Why don't you two go," Richie said. "I'll lock up."

"Are you sure?" Prue asked.

"Go on," he insisted. "I'll see you tomorrow, Phoebe. Get some rest."

As they left the shop, Phoebe explained what happened in the gym to Prue. They looked around as they cautiously walked toward the alley that appeared in the vision.

"That was close," Prue said.

"I know. At least, Richie bought my story. I hate lying to him."

"So do I, but what else can we do?"

"Prue, there they are," Phoebe whispered pointing at two men who were coming up behind an unsuspecting young woman.

Unaware they were being followed, the men grabbed their victim dragging her into the alley. Prue and Phoebe ran after them. When they reached the scene, the men had the terrified woman pinned against a wall.

"Hey!" Prue shouted distracting them. With a motion of her hand, she used her telekinesis to send the men sprawling.

Phoebe went to the victim and pushed her toward the entrance of the alley. "Get help," she ordered the crying woman and left to help her sister.

One of the would-be thieves was getting to his feet when Phoebe kicked him in the back of the knee. She followed with a kick to the head for good measure causing the man to fall to the ground inert.

The other man was foolish enough to pull a knife on Prue. Stepping forward, she used her power to slam the man against the wall knocking him unconscious. She turned around to find two police officers running toward her. She went to her sister.

"Did they see?" Prue whispered referring to the cops.

"I don't think so," Phoebe answered in a low voice.

A small crowd waited for them as they headed for the sidewalk.

"Just a quiet day in the city," Prue muttered.

Suddenly Phoebe tensed and started scanning the crowd.

"What is it?" Prue asked.

"I don't know," Phoebe answered distractedly still searching the faces around them. "I just got the feeling like we're being watched, and not in a good way."

Chapter 6

After locking up the shop, Richie decided to grab some coffee before heading home. As he left the coffee bar, he noticed a group of people and a police car. He also spotted two familiar faces and ran to the women.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"We stopped a mugging," Phoebe said matter-of-factly.

"Are you ok?"

"We're fine, Richie," Prue assured him.

"Are you allowed to leave?" he asked eyeing the cops.

"Yeah," Phoebe said. "We just finished giving out statements. Apparently, the guys were wanted for several other muggings in the area."

"I'll walk you to your car," Richie said.

"It's only three blocks away," Prue said. "We'll be fine."

"I'll walk you to your car," he repeated in a determined tone.

The Halliwells looked at each other then at Richie.

"Ok," Prue said.

"Sure," Phoebe said. "Fine."

As they started back toward the car, Richie felt the presence of another immortal. This time the static was stronger. His hand instinctively went to the sword in his coat.

"What's wrong?" Phoebe asked.

"Just felt like we were being watched," Richie said trying to relax but failing miserably.

"You too, huh?" Phoebe asked earning a strange look from Richie.

"You're both being paranoid," Prue commented.

"Just because you're paranoid, it doesn't mean someone isn't after you," he replied as the tell-tale buzz slowly faded. The immortal had left the immediate area. Still, he would be much happier when his friends were on their way home.

They reached the car without any further incident. Richie watched the women drive off with a wave and a smile. He headed for the antique store to get Duncan's car.

Richie was a little worried. He knew it was only a matter of time before he was challenged but wished that none of the Halliwells would be nearby when it happened. Today was too close for comfort. Suddenly he felt an immortal presence.

Richie kept walking hoping either to lose his stalker or to lure the other immortal to a more isolated locale for their confrontation. The sun had almost set as Richie went toward the warehouses several blocks from the shop. The static buzzing in his head told him that he was still being followed. Few people were along the street when he ducked into an alley and entered one of the warehouse.

As the buzzing grew stronger, Richie took a deep breath and drew out his sword. Where are you? he thought searching for the other immortal. He didn't have to wait long.

A tall somewhat slender man appeared in a doorway and walked toward him taking out a sword from his trench coat. He looked to be in his mid-thirties but in reality could be anywhere from 60 to 1,000 years old. From the way the man held his sword, Richie could tell he was no newcomer to the Game.

"I do believe introductions are in order," the man said slowly walking toward Richie. "The name's Marcus Sinclair."

"Richie Ryan," the young immortal said hoping to defuse the situation. "We don't have to do this."

"Of course we do. It's what defines us," the man replied with a smirk then quickly lunged.

So much for that idea, Richie thought bringing up his sword to deflect the blow.

Clashing steel rang throughout the abandoned building as the men fought. Richie could tell the man was surprised that he was holding his own. Though he was a young immortal, Richie probably had been in more fights than those twice his age. He managed to put his opponent on the defensive forcing him out of the warehouse and into the night.

Blood seeped from wounds as the battle continued. The other immortal made a fatal mistake, which Richie exploited. Swinging his sword in a downward arch, he sliced the man's chest. Using his momentum, he spun around severing the man's head with a single stroke.

Everything was still. Richie heard a mournful foghorn in the distance but ignored it. He watched as a ghostly vapour rose from his fallen opponent to envelop him. The air swirled into a maelstrom with him at the center. Lightning slashed through the darkening sky striking Richie forcing him to his knees.

The quickening stopped as suddenly as it had started leaving Richie gasping for breath. He looked around and was relieved to find himself alone. He got up sheathing his sword, took one last look at the body and left.

Chapter 7

Richie found Duncan waiting for his garment bag at a luggage carousel. He already had his sword case over his shoulder. One of the benefits of being an antique dealer was that Duncan didn't have to be separated from whatever antiques he may be transporting including his katanna which was over 200 years old.

"Hey, Mac. How was the trip?"

"Hey, Rich," Duncan greeted grabbing his bag off of the conveyor belt. "The trip was good. Got some really great pieces for the store."

"How's Connor?" Richie asked as they walked out of the airport and toward the car.

"Cynical as usual. I told him about the girls."

"What did he say?"

"He thinks we're both nuts for complicating an already complex situation."

"Aww, he's just jealous."

"I agree. So how are things here?"

Richie waited until they were in the car before answering. "Well, Prue and Phoebe stopped a mugging."

"Are they ok?"

"They're fine. I wonder if we should give Prue and Piper some self-defense lessons especially with Piper working late at the club."

"Not a bad idea," Duncan said pulling the car out of the parkade and into traffic.

"After the mugging attempt, I walked them to their car. I felt an immortal, a guy named Marcus Sinclair."

"And?"

"Prue thought I was being paranoid. Luckily they left before the guy came after me. I tried to lose him, but--"

"You did what you had to do."

"Mac, I felt an immortal after my workout with Phoebe. I think it was Sinclair. He seemed to like stalking me when I was with the girls."

"You were inside the gym when you felt the immortal the first time, but you think he was outside?"

"Yeah."

"Then I doubt it was Sinclair. Amanda told me about him once. He was relatively young. As you know, the more heads you take, the stronger your quickening and presence becomes. Only the presence of a very strong immortal can be felt through buildings. From Amanda's description, Sinclair wasn't that strong."

"So you're telling me I probably sensed a different immortal?"

"Probably."

"What if he had challenged me at the gym, and Phoebe walked in? Man, I hate this."

"So do I, but it's not like we have a lot of options."

"Sometimes I wonder if Connor's right. Just be a loner."

"Do you want to walk away from them?" Duncan asked softly.

Richie sat quietly watching the old San Francisco Victorian mansions fly by. He thought of his life as a street kid before meeting Duncan and Tessa who had given him his first real home. He remembered the emptiness in his heart when Tessa was killed and knew that Duncan felt infinitely worse. "No," he whispered, "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because they're like family."

"Exactly."

The men drove in silence for a few moments.

"When you're with the girls, do you ever feel like there's more to them than meets the eye?" Richie asked.

"Sometimes, but that can be said about almost any woman," Duncan replied dryly. "Do you have something specific in mind?"

"When I felt Sinclair as we walked to the car, Phoebe was acting as though she could feel him too."

"That's not possible. Even if she were a pre-immortal, which she is not, she wouldn't be able to feel him. It was probably just the adrenalin from the mugging."

"I guess, but it seemed awfully coincidental."

After dropping Richie off at the young man's apartment, Duncan returned home. On the way, he thought about what his friend had said concerning the girls. He had to acknowledge that something was just a little unusual about the Halliwells, but he couldn't figure out what. Maybe Richie was right. Maybe the women had secrets of their own. He shook himself from his musings. So they had secrets. Everyone does, Duncan thought. In comparison to mine, how bad could theirs possibly be?