Part 12

Jake wrapped an arm around Sara, "C�mon, let�s get inside and talk."

Sara nodded and allowed Jake to lead her into the building. Stepping through the doorway, she wiped her tears and moved from beneath Jake�s arm. No need to start any rumours. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching. To her relief, no one had noticed.

Inside the office, Sara took a seat at her desk and tried to close off her emotions, tried to focus on her work.

Jake watched her quietly, noting the internal conflict Sara was going through by the look on her face. She would talk when she was ready. He held out a manila folder.

With Jake seated across from her, Sara flipped through a manila folder that Jake had handed her. Info linking Rudy Foy and Tommy Gallo. A couple of arson cases. Foy had served hard time, but was out.

Sara jumped when the phone rang, startling her. "Pez."

"Um . . . hi. This is Gabriel Bowman, the owner of Talismaniac. I know you probably have never heard or it or anything . . . I�d like to talk to you today if possible."

Sara�s mind whirled. Gabriel Bowman. Talismaniac. Ian had told her about Gabriel. He had said he was someone she could trust. Sara smiled. "Hi Gabriel. Sure, I�d love to meet up with you. How �bout lunch?"

Gabriel�s voice sounded stunned. "Uh, yeah, sure . . . meet ya somewhere?"

Sara named a deli down the street from the department and told Gabriel what time she�d be there. She was getting ready to hang up when Gabriel said, "I guess you already guessed what this is about?"

"Maybe, why don�t you tell me anyway."

"The Witchblade."

"See ya at the deli." Sara hung up the phone, staring at it for a long moment until Jake interrupted her thoughts.

"So you going to tell me what that was about?" Jake couldn�t stand it any more. He had to ask.

"What what was about?"

"Earlier. Outside. The crying. Trouble in paradise?"

Sara sighed and rather than explain everything, merely nodded.

"Let me know if you need anything? Even if it�s just to talk?"

Sara smiled up at Jake. "Sure. Partner." Maybe Ian had been wrong about Jake. Sara hoped so.


Kenneth Irons stood above Ian. Strapped to the table. Blinding lights now shining down in his eyes, Ian could barely make out Irons features, but knew the man by his movements, his scent.

"You�ve put me in quite a quandary, Ian. While your loyalty to the fair Sara is quite . . . touching, you jeopardize my plans. If I cannot trust you to carry out my instructions, I obviously cannot allow you to interfere. You�ll be pleased to know that this morning your successor bedded your . . . " Irons hissed out the word, "wife."

Ian roared at Irons, the entire table shaking. Something deep within him snapped. He had reached his breaking point. His dark eyes full of fury, he seethed, "You are lying. Just like you lied about my mother."

If Irons was taken aback he did not let it show. "So you know Elizabeth was not your mother. Well not in the traditional sense at any rate." He whirled, bringing his cane down hard across Ian�s unprotected midsection.

Ian grunted, the pain spreading through him, radiating out. The cane landed again, this time across his right thigh. And again to the midsection. A sheen of sweat broke across Ian�s forehead, but he clenched his teeth refusing to give Irons the satisfaction of hearing him cry out. He wondered how close Irons had come to breaking his leg. Tiny dots began to dance in his vision.

"I should kill you outright, Ian. I should be done with you. Your loyalties lie with her and I shall never be able to trust you again."

Despite himself, a tear trickled down the side of Ian�s face. Until Sara had come into his life, Irons had been all he had known. His world had revolved around pleasing him. Until Sara. The image of Sara�s face played across the screen of his mind. Sara laughing. Sara collecting seashells. Sara teasing him. Sara kissing him. The cane came down again, a blur in Ian�s vision before it hit the side of his head, after that there was only darkness.

Sara met Gabriel at the deli, a smile on her face despite all that was going on in her life. Here was someone she could trust. Finally. She offered to buy and they sat and ate pastrami on rye with Swiss cheese, chasing them with colas. Sara was immediately at ease with Gabriel. She knew Ian had been right about him. She showed him the bracelet on her wrist.

"So that�s the infamous Witchblade, huh? I expected something more intimidating quite honestly."

"It gets that way." Sara leaned across the table. "So is there anything you can tell me about it?"

Gabriel nodded. "It supposedly gives its wielder strength and agility. Invincibility in battle. But only to true wielders. Some are considered pretenders and aren�t able to control it well if at all. It also supposedly leaves its wielder at the time of her greatest need." He smiled at Sara, "I went to visit someone this morning that used to be in possession of it."

Sara�s eyebrows shot up. "Tell me!"

"Her name is Dominique Boucher. She runs a modelling agency. She seemed quite surprised that I would be asking about it. She mentioned another name too . . . Kenneth Irons. Ever hear of him? He�s like at the top of the Fortune 500 and stuff."

"Um . . . yeah." Sara nodded. "What else did she say?"

"Not a whole lot. She didn�t seem to like Irons very much. Said something about not being surprised that he was looking for a new brood mare. She was very nasty when she was talking about him, so I didn�t press." Gabriel grinned. "I did get a name and number for one of her models though."

Sara laughed. "Go you!"

"Allright, listen Chief . . . " Gabriel stopped mid-sentence upon seeing Sara�s face. "What? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, Gabe . . . you said something right." The fleeting memory of hearing Gabriel call her Chief in another time danced through her mind.

Gabriel looked at Sara oddly for a moment and then said, "You�re gonna think I�m crazy for saying this, but I think I�ve known you before."

Sara stood and picked up her helmet. "I don�t think it�s crazy at all. I�ll come by your shop sometime soon, I promise. Keep looking to see if there is anything else on, " Sara tapped the bracelet, "this."

"You got it, Chief." Gabriel smiled and sat back down to finish his drink as Sara waved and walked out the door.

Part 13

Dr. Immo appeared in a blurry haze above Ian�s face. The sharp smell of an ammonia capsule brought him to his senses. A momentary panic set in and Ian struggled against his bonds before lying still in resignation.

"Hello Ian. Mr. Irons sent me to check on you."

"To heal me or kill me?"

Immo laughed. "Now Ian, why would he want to kill you? Really. Your imagination is getting away with you." Immo held up a hypodermic to the light, scrutinising it with a practiced eye. He flicked a finger against it.

"Dr. Immo? I do not know how long I have been here, but I am very dry. Would you kindly get me a drink of water?"

Immo looked thoughtful for a moment and then put the syringe on the counter turning to get the requested drink. "It is early afternoon, Ian. You haven�t been here terribly long. Since last night I believe." Immo held a straw to Ian�s lips.

Ian drank thirstily and then coughed and sputtered, pretending to choke. He stopped making noise and held his breath, making it appear that he was not capable of drawing a breath.

Immo instinctively rushed to help Ian, unbuckling the leather straps that held his arms and sitting him up. Ian looked to the doctor as he took a deep breath, "My apologies, Doctor."

Immo crumpled to the floor, knocked senseless by the blow to the head. Ian unbuckled his legs from the table and climbed down. Wincing as he put weight on his right leg, Ian carefully picked up the man�s glasses and slid them into the pocket of the lab coat Immo was wearing. Lifting Immo, he laid the doctor on the table and strapped him down in the same position he had been in moments before. He pulled the white sheet up over the doctor�s prone form as a final touch. Time to finish a task.

A furtive glance down the corridor told Ian no one else was about. Slipping silently through the underground hallways, avoiding the ever vigilant eyes of the security cameras, he finally came to the room he dreaded entering. As the doors swung in, Ian saw before him two sleeping bodies. Each was an exact duplicate of himself. Looking into the face of the first, he immediately had second thoughts. He began to back away but then the voice of Irons played itself over in his head, "You�ll be pleased to know that this morning your successor bedded your . . . wife." Lunging forward, he snapped the neck of the first and crushed the windpipe of the second, scarcely five seconds in the doing. Turning away from the broken bodies, his face cold and impassive but his eyes full of fire, he strode out of the room his hair and coat stirred with the swiftness of his passing.

Sara looked down at her watch. 4:30. She stood and walked to the window, her eyes searching the street below. She needed to get out of here before Ian�s double arrived.

"Hey Jake? You mind if I take off early?"

"Something wrong?" Jake looked up at Sara with a worried glance.

Sara chuckled, "Just that my life is falling apart and I need to go patch it."

"You need backup?"

Sara sighed. "This is something I have to do alone." She smiled at Jake, "Thanks for the offer though."

"Just wanted to make sure. If he hurts you, you�ll let me know though right? I mean if he hits you . . . "

Sara shook her head, "No, it�s nothing like that." She picked up her helmet. "Cover for me?"

Jake nodded, "Sure thing, partner. Call me tonight and let me know how things went?"

"Yeah." Sara smiled and walked out of the office.

Tommy Gallo had his driver park within half a block of the department. Pezzini was in there and he would wait all night if need be. As if in answer to his very thoughts, Sara walked down the steps of the building helmet in hand. She looked around as if to see if she was being watched and walked towards her motorcycle. Gallo signaled his driver to follow her. He didn�t notice the car that pulled out behind him at the same time.

Sara revved the bike, speeding through the streets, the exhilaration of riding her bike lifting her mood. She was well over the speed limit, but honestly she just didn�t give a damn. It felt good, it felt like freedom, it felt rather like she imagined flying would.

Sara glanced back in her rearview, getting ready to switch lanes. Damn, that was the same car that was back there earlier. Shit. Was it Ian�s double? Where to run?

The new and improved Ian Nottingham tailed Sara for a few miles before picking up his car phone and dialing. "Someone else is following her."

"Can you tell who it is?"

"It is no one I have encountered."

"Do what is necessary."

Ian smiled. Necessary was a relative term. He gave it the gas.

Sara glanced back again just in time to see a second car ram the one following her. She got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she recognised the second car. It was the same one she had ridden to the beach and back in, Irons� car. Who the hell was in the first car, the beige one? She twisted hard on the throttle, trying to stay clear of the two cars. The second car managed to push the first off the road and Sara watched with horror as the beige car rolled over twice. The Irons� car ground to a halt. Even though Sara�s instincts said run, her sense of duty compelled her to stop. She slid the bike to a stop and ran towards the cars. She didn�t notice the Witchblade glowing fiery red on her wrist.

Ian saw Sara heading towards him and smiled to himself, slumping down over the wheel and closing his eyes.

Sara reached the beige car first. Swinging the driver�s door open she pulled out the first guy she laid hands on and drug him away from the road. He was unconscious, but alive. Going back for the passenger, Sara could hardly believe her eyes. It was Tommy Gallo. He was quite dead.

Sara ran back to her bike and radioed in before going to Irons� car. Her eyes welled up with tears at the sight before her. Even though the logical part of her mind knew that this wasn�t her Ian, the man slumped over the wheel was Ian in a way. Damn Kenneth Irons. Damn Vorschlag. She reached in the car and felt for a pulse. A good strong pulse at his neck. For a moment she felt relief, but that gave way to terror as he sat up and grinned, grabbing both of her wrists and pulling her across him and into the car. The Witchblade roared to life, but it was too late. At the same moment the gauntlet formed, she felt the prick of a needle against her skin and sudden lethargy overtook her. Everything faded into black.