The Hex

By Karahkwa

Codes: Highlander DM

Rating: PG to R(for language)

Disclaimer: See Main Fan Fic Page

Summary: Taking the head of a witch has more consequences than Duncan realizes.

Duncan MacLeod sighed as he sunk onto the bed. He'd just returned to the barge and it was nearly dawn. Whoever had said midnight was he witching hour had met the witch he'd beheaded with morning.

Catus Adorgan had been a six-hundred-year-old Gypsy who believed in and practiced the Black Arts. She's even tired to put a hex on him while they'd fought. When he'd finally felt her quickening, he'd practically been sick. He hated to take the heads of truly dark immortals. Their dark essence would surround him for a few days.

At these times he was almost glad Tessa and Richie were gone. It didn't matter if he opened the shop of if he even got out of bed.

Bed... Now that sounded nice....


Boom! "Hey, Mac." Boom!

Duncan rolled over and stared at the clock. He'd didn't remember actually going to bed but unless he’d slept through a whole day he'd only been asleep for about three minutes.

"Mac!" Knock! Knock!

Who the hell would be calling on him at dawn? He knew that voice but his sleepy mind refused to figure it out. So he stumbled to the door and opened it. Before it stood... Tessa...

"Thanks, honey, I forgot my keys."

Keys? Tessa? What the- "Tessa, wha-?"

"Oh, I know you're made because I went to that party with Richie. But I swear nothing happened. You know that I'm faithful to you." With that she steeped forward and just as her lips would have met his, Duncan jerked away and...

Duncan sat straight up in bed. He swore softly as he ran his hands over his face. It had been months since he'd dreamt of Tessa or Richie even though he thought of them daily.

As he listened to his ragged breath slow, he noticed the sunlight streaming through the barge’s portholes. Looking at the clock, he realized tat it wasn't much after dawn. He'd only gotten about an hour of shut eye if he was lucky. Sighing, he laid back and waited for sleep's gentle hands to carry him away again.

An hour later, Duncan drug his butt into the shower. He'd tried every possible position and had ended up staring at the ceiling. Obviously he wasn't meant to sleep his day away.

Duncan adjusted the water to the warm temperature he enjoyed the most and climbed in under the spray. He stood letting he water cascade over him for a long moment before reaching for the shampoo. He lathered his hair and stuck his had under the spray to rinse.

Mmm. That felt so...


"Shit!" The water had gone ice cold without any warning.

Mac rinsed his hair with the most speed he could muster and then went to check his water heater. While no plumber, he thought he knew enough to know that the think the damn thing was working. Still as tired and as foggy as his brain was, he probably should call a real plumber.

Sighing, he headed for the kitchen. It looked like he would be opening the shop today after all. Sighing, he set about making himself breakfast.

As he waited for his egg to fry, he popped some toast in. To Duncan, there was no better breakfast than fried egg sandwiches. Tessa had gotten him hooked on them.

Tessa. He couldn't stop thinking about her today. He' could almost hear her voice. He loved the way she'd say his name in that sweet accent. "Mac" had become a caress when it came from her lips.

Everything about Tessa was wonderful. Her hair was like silk, her skin like the finest ivory, her smell... like burnt toast...

Burnt toast! "Shit!" And burnt eggs. "Damn!"

Duncan sighed. For a split second, he considered making himself some more eggs, but then he thought, What the hell; I've food poisoned myself before.


"Hey MacLeod!"

Duncan turned from the door of his shop to see "Adam Pierceson" striding up the street towards him. "Adam," whose really name is Methos, was a good friend even if he was something to mystery to Duncan. Still, it was good to be around an immortal who didn't crave his head.

"Good morning, Adam."

Methos smiled brightly. "It is, isn't it?" When Duncan didn't answer, he just kept talking. "I mean look at that sunshine. It's gorgeous. I'm not usually a morning person but who couldn't love this beautiful sky."

Duncan stayed silent and led Methos into the store. As he went through the rooms, turning on the lights, his friend went to the back room to start the coffee maker. When Duncan came into the main room, Methos presented him with a cup of coffee just the way he liked it.

"Here you go, MacLeod. This should make you a little more talkative."

Duncan sighed. "It's been a rotten day, Methos. So please don't be cherry with me."

"It's only nine-thirty. How could be that bad?"

"Oh, well, trust me it can."

"You took a head last night." It wasn't a question, really; nor was it a statement of fact. It was more like the thought had just occurred to the older immortal.

"Actually, it was just before dawn. The witch kept me running after her all night after she challenged me."

"Witch... Catus Adorgan. Oh, MacLeod, you didn't."

"Well, I did."

"She puts hexes on people!"

"She used to and I know. She tried it on me."


Duncan shrugged. "I took her head before she could finish."

"You killed her mid-hex! MacLeod, you are in such deep shit now."

"Methos, I don't believe in hexes and all that nonsense."


"No, I won't hear it. Now, what can I do for you this morning?"


Duncan sighed. He couldn't get rid of Methos today. The man wouldn't leave him alone. It was like he'd convinced himself that Duncan was hexed. And it was worse than if he really was cursed.

Methos screwed up two sales and then he nearly caused Duncan to choke at lunch. Every little thing he blamed on the hex. Duncan was going to take the older man's head if something didn't happen soon to stop him.

And it did...

It was nearing lunch time and Duncan was getting very tired of listening to all the Methos’s doom and gloom stories about his friends who had died from a curse. To Duncan it sounded like they were just plain stupid.

He sighed as he sat down at the desk. He was going to need some nutrients if he was going to make it through the rest of the day. Duncan wanted some major comfort food.

Unfortunately the way his day had been going, Methos would burn the store down while he was gone. Unless...


“Yes, MacLeod?”

“Would you do me a favor? Would you run down to the deli on Avenue Percier and get lunch?”

Methos frowned. He obviously didn’t think he should leave MacLeod alone with his hex. “They deliver,” he finally answered, reaching for the phone.

Duncan’s hand shot out. He caught Methos’s hand before it could lift the receiver. “They never get the order right and their poor delivery boy is afraid of me after all the times I’ve sent him back. I don’t really want to deal with it today.”

Duncan could see Methos considering. So he played his trump card. “Please.”

The oldest immortal caved at the pleading tone that Duncan used. He sighed and then answered “Oh, all right. But you have to promise not to leave the shop. I’ll be back in a flash.”

I hope not, Duncan thought as Methos darted across the street. He thought about closing the place and just going home but his luck Methos would come after him.

Instead, Duncan rested his head on the desktop and waited for his short reprieve to end. He was surprised when the door was opened less than three minutes after Methos had left. “Adam? Do you need some money for lunch?”

There wasn’t an answer so Duncan looked up. At the same time he realized that he hadn’t felt Methos’s presence. His eyes met those of a young woman he’d never met before. He opened his mouth to ask if he could help him but the woman began to speak.

“Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod? You are in grave danger.”

Duncan shook his head. “Adam put you up to this, didn’t he?”

“Your friend, Methos, has nothing to do with my being here. Although if you were a smart man you would listen to him.”

Duncan sat in shock. He was sure he’d called out to Adam not Methos so how did she...

“I know many thing, MacLeod. And I know about last night.”

Duncan didn’t say a word. If this was just one of Methos’s pranks, he swore to God he’d take the man’s head without any qualms.

“You took the head of a witch and you have been cursed for it.”

Again, Duncan said nothing.

“‘Hogma alti aria norseen. Fal len norye. Pacra nalcore...’”

The hair stood up on the back of Duncan’s neck. The woman was quoted the exact words Catus had used.


“Heed well the warnings your friend.” The woman gestured to the door and Duncan turned to see Methos standing in the doorway with a stunned expression on his face.

Just as Duncan looked back to the woman, she disappeared in a puff of smoke.


Duncan could tell from the surprise in Methos’s voice that he hadn’t set this up as a prank. He felt a decided chill go down his spine.


Duncan followed Methos slowly down the dark alley. He didn’t want to be here but it was the only way...

Methos stopped in front of a unlit door. "Here it is. Madam Relia is an old friend of mine. She'll be able to lift this curse on you."

Duncan nodded and opened the door. Methos entered and he reluctantly followed. He started to relax when he saw the older woman sitting at the table. But then he felt her quickening.

“Methos, who is your troubled friend?”

“This is Duncan MacLeod. He-”

“Has been cursed. By Catus Adorgan.”

“How did you know?” Despite this afternoon, Duncan was still skeptical.

“You wear her air. I can tell these things. But you have also been blessed today.”


“A visit from a druid priestess in warning is always a blessing.”

Methos gave an exasperated sigh. “Can you get rid of his hex and talk about the schematics later!”

“Be calm, my impatient friend. Your Duncan will be good as new in but a few moments.”

Madame Relia lit a candle, said a few incantations and then blew the smoke into Duncan’s face.

“That’s it?”

“That is all. Your blessing took most of the darkness from you.”

“How do I know you’re not pulling my leg?”

“If your luck is not better by morning, you may take my head.” Duncan raised his eyebrows at the deal. “Yes, I will still be here. You have my word as an immortal.”

A few moments later, Methos and Duncan wandered though the streets of Paris. Neither could really believe that the curse had been so easily lifted.

“How do we test your luck?”

“Well, I could try cooking again. If it doesn’t kill us...”


The next morning, Madame Relia found a red rose stuck in the door of her shop. The note attached to it said: “Your head is safe. -DM”

The End

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