-1Chapter Eleven
Sara found herself stood in the main hall of Kenneth Irons' mansion, unsure of how she had came to be here. The hall was dark, the only light coming from a room just up ahead. The library, she knew. The place where Irons had once offered her the world, if only she would bring the Witchblade into his service.
She shivered and hugged herself as she slowly made her way towards the light. She remembered Ian that night, standing in the shadows, waiting for his master's command. His head had been down in that subservient pose she would soon come to hate, but his eyes had followed her at every opportunity.
It was that damn stance, head down, legs braced wide apart, hands clasped behind his back, that had haunted her. As Irons had talked about power and wealth and destiny, it was his servant who had captured her attention. A dark, silent sentinel with the eyes of a poet.
She hadn't realized until later that those beautiful brown eyes truly had revealed his soul. He had rarely made eye contact with her, and now she knew why. He could control his expression, to the extent that he looked completely emotionless, but he couldn't stop his intense gaze from reflecting his feelings.
She could remember everything now, in this dream state produced by the Witchblade. She caught him beating Jake nearly to death, because he believed her to be betrayed. At the end of the hallway at the television station, begging her to come with him, to trust him to keep her safe, just before Jake lifted his gun and shot him. Jake had been in love her, and he would have done anything to keep her away from Ian Nottingham.
She could see Ian on his knees before Irons, his hands holding his katana out as he begged his father for a merciful end to his life. Irons bats the sword away and grasps the back of his head, forcing it against his legs, speaking of betrayal and darkness. She has never Ian so scared, a look of pure terror on his bold features, as his father casts him out of his life.
He'd come to her then, speaking of duty and honor and sacrifice. She had watched as he gave his life for hers, his stunned brown eyes meeting hers before he fell to the floor. She and Gabriel had gotten away from Dante and the White Bulls, and she had been left to wonder why.
To this day, whenever those pieces of the past came to her, she pushed them away, scared by what they might mean. She had never trusted him because of his ties to Kenneth Irons, and he had known it. He had never rebuked her, only gave whatever he could until it had culminated in his death.
She stopped before the library, raising one hand to the polished wooden doors. She could feel him in there, but she couldn't tell what he was feeling. He had closed himself off from her, Sara realized with a jolt. She had hurt him one time too many, and he had withdrawn completely.
She opened the library doors cautiously, her green eyes sweeping over the room with its huge fireplace and priceless works of art. Ian sat before the fire, not in one of the gilt-edged leather chairs, but on the rug before the hearth. His face was turned away from her, the fire outlining his broad shoulders and powerful chest. He didn't turn as she approached, even though he had to be aware of her presence. He merely sat there, as still as one of his father's statues, and it annoyed her.
"Nottingham." She called his name impatiently, watching as his shoulders tensed, but he didn't respond. "Look at me, Nottingham."
His shoulders hunched, his head dropping, as though he were folding in on himself, and the silence began to grate on her nerves. She crouched behind him, silently willing him to turn around. It didn't work, and her eyes narrowed angrily. "Damn it, look at me!"
He flinched, the reaction so subtle that she would have missed it if she hadn't been looking for it. Sara drew a deep breath and forced herself to stay calm. "Ian," she said as soothingly as she could, "please, turn around and look at me."
That was all it took. He shifted slightly, his upper body twisting, as he slowly turned to face her. The fire at his back threw his face into shadow, making it impossible to read his expression. His hair fell to his shoulders in a soft cascade of untamable curls that framed his bold features, his eyes downcast as he waited for her to speak. He had the most beautiful lashes in the world, long and dark and thick enough to completely conceal his eyes, Sara thought with frustration.
When it became clear that he had no intention of speaking, she took matters into her own hands. She slid her hand into the surprisingly soft hair of his beard and lifted his head herself. He only fought her for a moment before giving in and allowing her to do it. Those beautiful, haunting brown eyes met hers, and she nearly cried out at the look in their golden depths.
It was the same look he had given Irons before being cast out of his life. It was sheer terror, Sara realized with surprise and her own hurt. A heartrending mix of fear, pain, and anguish stared back at her, underlied by a resignation that shocked her. He was waiting for her to hurt him, expecting it, and it hurt like hell.
"Ian, no," she groaned, bringing both hands up to his face. He jerked away from her, still silent, his gaze dropping to the floor once more.
Sara hesitated before finally lowering her hands. He had never avoided her touch before, had in fact been willing to beg for it. That he scorned physical contact with her now showed just how much she had hurt him. As she searched for a way to reach him, he finally spoke, and she almost wished he hadn't.
"Why are you here?" His voice was low and flat as he spoke, with none of its usual richness. "Why have you come to torment me? I have given you what you asked for. I have removed myself from your life. Why have you come to me now, when I am weak and unable to fight you?"
"Ian. . ." her voice trailed as she stared at him uncertainly. This wasn't a reaction she had ever expected from him, and she didn't know how to respond.
"I have watched over you, protected you, loved you." The first faint trace of emotion entered his voice, and it was anger. "I have watched you take lover after lover, remaining loyal despite your continued cruelty, and yet you have refused to let me into your life. I have died for you, yet you continue to scorn me. You would not even deign to take my life when I begged you to, as though I were wholly unworthy of your mercy."
Sara gazed at him, unable to refute his words. "Ian, I--"
He cut through her protest quickly, wanting only to left alone with his dreams before death finally claimed him. "You have given your affection to others, reserving all of your contempt for me, your most loyal adherent. You have relegated me to the shadows, not even allowing me to retain my honor. My duty has always been to protect you, and you have dismissed both it and me. Death is all you have left me. "
"And now that I have finally come to the end, you would deny me even that." Nottingham's voice was bitter as he raised his gaze once more. "I would have given anything to be a part of your life, done anything you asked, if only to receive a kind word from you. But even that was denied me. Release me, Sara. Let me find the peace I have sought so desperately, for so long. Let me die, my lady, please."
"No!" Sara cried, tears blurring her vision. "I need you, Ian. You can't do this to me. You can't leave me like this. Who but you could just appear out of nowhere and spout all that cryptic stuff without looking ridiculous? Who would bother to sit on my fire escape every night and watch over me if not you? Who else will stock my refrigerator when I'm at work, or make me coffee before I wake up in the morning? Who else would bother to take care of me when I'm too tired to take care of myself?"
Nottingham closed his eyes, trying desperately to block out the image of her pain. "You don't need me for any of that," he said hoarsely. "Your next lover will--"
"Don't you even go there." Sara wiped her face with her hands and glared at him. "Not one of my boyfriends has ever done any of that. You are the only man who has ever put my needs before his. You're different from anyone I've ever known, and I've never known how to-to--"
She broke off, unable to find the words to express herself. "Damn it, Nottingham, help me out here," she growled finally.
He just gazed at her with those big, emotion-filled brown eyes. "What do you want me to say, Sara? I did those things because I love you, and I wanted to make your life easier. You know that," he added in quiet rebuke.
Yes, she did, Sara acknowledged silently. He had done whatever he could to make her life better, asking for nothing in return, even though she treated him like shit. She would never find another man like him, and she knew it.
She scooted closer to him, raising her hands to his face once again. He shuddered as her hands touched his face, his eyes fluttering closed, a ragged sigh of surrender escaping his sculpted lips. She slid her hands into his hair, resting her forehead against his, and knew that he had reached the end of his endurance. He would do anything she asked now, because he couldn't fight his feelings for her any longer. He belonged to her in a way scared the hell out of her, but she would find a way to deal with that. So long as he stayed with her, she could deal with anything.
"Will you do something for me?" she asked, her thumbs stroking his face tenderly.
"Anything," he breathed, shivering at the sensations her touch roused in him.
"Will you live for me?" she said quietly. "Will you come back to me and let me love you like I should have from the start?"
Nottingham froze at her words, his big body completely motionless. It seemed like an eternity passed before his eyes opened to hers. Hope and fear battled for possession of in their dark depths, and for once, his expression reflected his turmoil. "My lady?" he whispered hesitantly, certain he had heard her wrong.
"You're not going to make me repeat that, are you?'" Sara muttered.
"Sara. . ." He brought his hands up to cover hers, pulling them away from his face and clasping them tightly. He was terrified, but he had to be sure. He studied her beloved features, searching his memories of her for an expression similar to the one she now wore.
There was confusion and fear, uncertainty. He saw grief in the depth of her eyes, and perhaps even a touch of arrogance. And why not? Nottingham asked himself. Hadn't he made his feelings for her perfectly clear? He belonged to her, body, heart, and soul, and she had always known it. Had the time truly come when his beautiful lady had chosen to bring him into the warmth of her life?
"Are you sure that this is what you want?" he asked finally, his voice grave. "I would give anything to be with you, unworthy though I am, but I don't want you to come to me out of pity. I think. . ." he paused and corrected himself. "I know that it would not be enough for me. I must have all of you, my love, or none at all."
Sara's smile wobbled around the edges. "I think I can manage that, Ian."
Nottingham stared at her for a long moment before carefully drawing her to him. Her arms encircled his waist, her head coming to rest on his shoulder, and his world was complete.
He lowered his face to her hair and was shocked to realize that he was crying. His arms tightened around her, his breath catching in his throat. "I love you," he told her unevenly. "You will never know how much."
Sara held him to her, rocking him as he cried silently in her arms. For the first time in her own life, she felt complete. Here, in Ian Nottingham's arms, she had found home. "Will you return with me?" she asked him huskily. "You were brave enough to die for me, Ian. Are you brave enough to live for me, too?"
Nottingham pulled back just enough to gaze into her extraordinary emerald eyes. "Will you allow me to walk beside you, my lady, instead of behind?"
She raised one haughty brow at question. "Do you think you can keep up with me?" she countered, ruining the effect with a smile.
He nodded very seriously, the back of his gloved fingers brushing her cheek. "For you, I can do anything, my heart."
Sara's expression softened as she caught his hand in her own. "Then, come home, Ian. Come home."
Nottingham woke to the feel of a soft, feminine body pressed against his own. He reached behind him slowly, his breath halving as a hand touched his own. Slender fingers laced through his, and he bought them into view with excruciating slowness. Small, delicate hands, unpolished nails, a trim wrist that flashed red and silver.
The Witchblade winked at him, flashing and swirling, as that hand released him and came towards his face. He just lay there, unable to move, terrified that this was just another dream. That hand touched his chin, those fingers twining through his beard, before urging his face towards. . .
"Sara," he breathed, his eyes going wide. He gazed at her for a long, endless moment, convinced that this was either a dream, or that he was dead. Her beautiful features were soft, her own eyes wide, her lips parted in wonder. He watched as those lips curved into a smile, and knew that he was dead. His lady would never smile at him like that, as though he were the most important thing in the world. Only in his dreams did she even look at him kindly, though she certainly never smiled.
Her lustrous brown hair fell around her face in honeyed waves, and he reached up to capture it between his gloveless fingers. "You are so beautiful," he whispered with awe. "If I had known what awaited me here, I would have killed myself long ago."
The smile faded and those eyes he had always died for filled with tears. "Sara?" he said, dread creeping in to squeeze his heart. "I'm not dead, am I?"
"No, damn you, you're not." Sara dropped her head to his shoulder and began to cry again. "How could you say something like that?" she sobbed. "How could you even consider taking your own life?'
Nottingham blinked in confusion. "Sara, why are you crying?"
She just sobbed harder at his words, her hands clutching at his neck, her tears wetting his shoulder. Very slowly, he put his arms around her, and she responded by burrowing closer. He laid there just holding her, his hands sweeping over her leather-clad back as he strove to comfort her. He didn't know what had upset her, but he hated to see her unhappy.
Why hadn't she gone to her partner, or McCartey, for comfort? Why was she here, with him, when it wasn't necessary? And where was here?
His dark brows came together as his gaze swept over his surroundings. It was his bedroom in the loft. How did he get here? he wondered silently. The last thing he remembered was--
He stiffened as he remembered Irons punishing him, the beating, the strike of the lash, struggling to get to Sara before he died. It all came back to him at once, and he knew that he had to get Sara away from here before his replacement came for her.
"We have to go," he told her urgently, cursing soundlessly as she raised tear-drenched eyes to his own. "Irons will find us if we don't--"
"It's all right, Ian." Sara smiled mistily and brushed her thumb over his lush bottom lip. "Your other half and the mobster are here. We're safe, for the moment."
Nottingham froze at the touch, his heartbeat doubling as heat spiraled through him. "Sara?" he questioned, his voice hoarse with emotion.
The Witchblade vibrated on her wrist, drawing his gaze to it. Sara smiled as it flashed at him, silently inviting him to touch it. He reached out hesitantly, his eyes seeking hers for permission. She nodded and he slowly brushed his hand across the luminous gem.
It pulled him into a vision immediately, showing him what had happened after his arrival at her apartment. He heard her words, the emotions in her husky voice, felt her hands as they caressed his hair. She had begged him not to die, and for the first time he had tried to deny her something she wanted.
But she had refused to let him go, following him into the Witchblade's dream, fighting for him when he himself had given up.
His lips parted on a gasp as he saw the Witchblade surround them in its greenish tendrils, just as it had her during the Periculum. He had crouched on her fire escape and watched as she struggled through the blade's test, her dead partner comforting her as she herself neared death. Daniel Woo had looked up and saw him, and nodded his acknowledgement. He had understood even then how Ian felt about her, and he had approved of the dark man's vigilance.
"It healed me," Nottingham said in a hushed voice, his eyes jerking back to hers. "I didn't misinterpret its message that night or any other. The Witchblade did want me to protect you!"
She nodded solemnly. "Yes, Ian, it loves you as much as I do."
He gazed at her with such wide, disbelieving eyes that her heart broke. "Thank you," she told him quietly, "for coming home to me."
She remembered! he thought with exaltation. She had shared the dream with him, and awake she still wanted him at her side!
Nottingham clasped her to him, trembling as a new world full of possibilities opened up for him. "Thank you, Sara." His voice quivered as he buried his face in her hair. "You will never regret this, my love. I swear it!"
Sara smiled against his hair. "I know I won't, Ian."
He shuddered and lifted his head, his deep brown eyes shimmering with emotion. "Are you sure, my lady? I know that I am not what you would have chosen without--"
"Shut up and kiss me, Nottingham."
He smiled at her with sudden shyness. "I have never kissed a woman before," he confessed with embarrassment.
"I know," Sara replied simply. "You were waiting for me."
Nottingham nodded, his dark curls tumbling into his face. "I have never desired another woman, Sara. Only you."
Sara smiled and dropped back on the bed, her hands coming up to push those curls away from his face. "You have no idea how good it is to hear that, Ian. Now, come here."
He curled his body protectively around hers, trying not to blush at his own nakedness. Her gaze dropped to his lips and he forgot his embarrassment. He lowered his head and gently touched his lips to hers, stifling a groan at their satin smoothness. He raised his head just enough to check her reaction, and he thought that if he died tomorrow, he would take this vision with him to the grave.
Her skin was flushed, her eyes half-closed, the desire he had seen for so many others now shining only for him. He murmured her name and kissed her once more, daring to run his tongue along the seam of her lips. She moaned and opened her mouth, her tongue coming up to tangle with his, and he was lost.
The Witchblade flashed madly, casting strobes of bright red light through the room, as Wielder and Protector became one.
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"Arrrgghh!" Kenneth Irons bolted upright in bed, his pale blue eyes wide, the scar on his right hand throbbing. He looked down at the intertwined circles, watching with disbelief as they began to darken to an angry red. The mark pulsed under his skin as though it had a life of his own. Pain traveled up his arm, the likes of which he hadn't felt since donning the Witchblade, and he knew.
The gauntlet had made its choice.
An inarticulate sound of rage escaped him as he fell back, his back arching as pain drew his body taut. Through the sheer agony engulfing his fragile human form, Irons felt the passion that rose between the Wielder and his own personal Judas. Fury roared through him as he felt the Witchblade's utter delight, its complete and total acceptance of Ian Nottingham as its only worldly Protector.
He had known, Kenneth thought in a frenzy of hate, what would happen if he ever truly lost control of Ian. It was the one thing he had always feared, that Ian's devotion to Sara Pezzini would overcome the loyalty he had worked so hard to ingrain in the boy. He had spent millions of dollars and twenty-eight years of his life ensuring that it would not happen, manipulating the Protector's mind--his very essence--into a tool that would serve only him.
Now, it was all wasted. Ian's replacement wouldn't be ready for another day, and it wouldn't have any of its predecessor's memories to draw upon. It would be a risk, unleashing this new tool without the download, but it had to be done. He would not be thwarted in this. The Witchblade would be his again, and the boy would pay for his insubordination with his life--and Sara Pezzini's.
But Sara would die first, Irons thought with malicious anticipation. She would die slowly, in a torrent of pain and blood, and he would force Ian to watch. Perhaps, he would allow the boy's replacement to ravage the Wielder before he tortured her. That would kill any resistance Ian had left, and the Witchblade would fall to another—a Wielder of his choosing.
Kenneth Irons was smiling as the Witchblade forced him into the darkness of oblivion.
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Ian glanced around the living room with tired, gritty eyes. Bowman was asleep on the love seat, having refused to leave without seeing Sara. Vicki Po had left hours ago, leaving a message for Sara to call her, practically asleep on her feet. Jackie was parked in front of the television, barely awake as he watched a science-fiction movie. Neither was willing to go to bed, though dawn had not long passed. They were waiting for Nottingham to emerge, both wanting to assure themselves that the puppy was alive and well and happy.
He smiled at the thought. They had all heard the groans coming from his room, and yet, they still worried that he might not be well. He would likely be exhausted when he finished completing his bond with his wielder, but there would be no permanent damage.
Ian had spent more than an hour blocking the visions that Excalibur had repeatedly thrust upon him. It was further assurance that his hypothesis had been correct, and that his own bond with Sara had merely been overpowered by theirs. God knew, he had no desire to interrupt what was a truly sacred moment in his other self's life.
He had felt much the same the first time he had kissed Sara. It hadn't mattered that she didn't love him, or that she was unwilling to stay with him. To finally taste her had eased something inside of him, given him a sense of peace that he had never before known. Even the pain of knowing that she would never let herself love him had paled in comparison to the culmination of the desire to kiss her that had been slowly eating him alive.
Unlike the puppy, he knew that he could live his life without Sara Pezzini. His heart would never stop longing for her, but he could move on. He would be able to bed other women, had in fact done so, though none would ever again touch his heart. He would survive if not flourish, and he could accept that. After all, he had known happiness briefly. It was more than most could say.
Ian's head came up as a door opened in the back of the house. He heard a low, husky feminine laugh, quickly smothered, and smiled to himself. Even without Excalibur's voice practically purring in his mind, he could well imagine just how happy the newly joined couple were.
Nottingham padded silently into the room, his bear feet making no sound on the hardwood floor. His hair was a tangled jumble of curls around his face and shoulders, a small smile curving his lips. He wore a pair of black sweat pants and nothing more, more confident in himself than even Ian had imagined he could be, and not a lash mark in sight.
His brown eyes were clear and bright, all traces of conflict banished from their dark depths, as he smiled at Ian. "Thank you, Christian."
Ian blinked with surprise. "For what do you thank me?' he asked.
Nottingham leveled a knowing look at him. "I would not be with my lady now were it not for your intervention. For that, I thank you."
He merely shook his head negatively. "The Witchblade chose you, Ian. I was merely its tool."
"None-the-less. . ." Nottingham stepped forward and extended his hand, clasping his forearm in a warrior's handshake, "I thank you, my friend."
"I am honored, Ian," Ian told him in return. "Thank you."
"Are you guys done with the male bonding thing, now?"
They looked Jackie to find him watching them from the floor. "Yes, I believe so," Ian replied as he stepped back.
"Good. 'Cause it's my turn." Jackie hopped up and gave Nottingham a bone-popping hug. He stepped back, wearing his usual grin. "Glad to see you among the living, man. Damn glad."
"Thank you." Nottingham looked both pleased and embarrassed as he smiled at the younger man.
"Just do me favor," Jackie said, his light brown eyes twinkling.
"Of course," Nottingham responded, his expression questioning.
His teeth flashed in a wicked smile. "Next time, lower the volume while you're doing your girl, okay?"
The puppy's eyes widened dramatically as rich color crept into his cheeks. Ian stifled a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. "Ignore the cub, my friend. He is simply jealous because he is currently doing without."
"Yep," Jackie agreed even as he flipped the Brit off, "damn jealous."
Nottingham lowered his gaze shyly, not able to hide his smile. He was not used to being teased in such a fashion, but despite his embarrassment, he found that he liked it. This was probably as close as he would ever come to normalcy.
"And now, I'm going to bed. See you later, guys."
Ian looked after him with a small smile, his gray-blue eyes dark with concern. Nottingham thought of what had happened earlier and shared it. "You are worried about him, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am." Ian followed him as he made his way to the kitchen. "Much like you, he had problems with the father figure in his life."
Nottingham nodded as he began to make sandwiches. "Franchetti had him killed here," he offered.
Ian sighed, not surprised. "In our world, Jackie turned state's evidence against Franchetti. In retaliation, the Don killed the girl that he loved. Jackie set Franchetti up, and he died as well."
Dark curls bounced as Nottingham's head came up. "The Darkness," he guessed in a soft voice. "The Darkness brought him back."
"Yes, and he has struggled with it ever since." Ian frowned briefly. "From what I understand, the darklings are--for the most part--manifestations of his personality. What tried to drag you into the shadows tonight was the result of his rage at his Jenny's death. Large parts of the Darkness bonded with his darker emotions, and they are the more aggressive elements of his power. Harder to control, and going so far as to rob him of sleep when he denies their desire for death."
"You called her Jenny?" Nottingham asked in a quiet voice.
"That is what Jackie called her, yes."
"Jackie Estacado died two months after his wedding," he told Ian. "His wife's name was Jennifer."
"Oh, God." Ian pinched the bridge of his nose, his heart plummeting, at the ramifications of those words. "If I tell him, and he goes to her, he may not want to leave."
Deep brown eyes turned to him. "And if you don't tell him. . .?"
Ian met his dark gaze evenly. "If I were to withhold this information, and he were to find out, the Darkness would take me. Jackie would not be able to stop that part of himself from retaliating. He loved her," Ian finished helplessly.
Nottingham poured two glasses of milk as he spoke. "A feeling we can both understand, I believe."
"Yes," Ian said simply, his gaze going to the ring on his finger.
"Then, tell him and be done with it," the other man said calmly. "If it comes down to it, we will find another way to get you home. But do not rob him of this chance to be with her one last time."
Ian was silent for a long moment. "You are not upset that I had considered doing otherwise?" he asked at length.
Nottingham merely shook his head. "You are used to being in control, as I suspect he is. It is something I wish that I were capable of," he added with a shrug.
"Give it time," Ian murmured with a smile. "You will be."
The puppy looked away. "After we kill Father," he said in a whisper.
Ian inclined his head. "Just so."
Nottingham swallowed hard as he grabbed the plate of sandwiches and both glasses of milk. "I will not try to stop you, Christian, but I cannot be a part of it."
"I understand, Ian." And he did. A lifetime of abuse had conditioned the pup to the point where he simply was not capable of harming his abuser. "Do not fear, my friend. I will deal the killing blow. It will be clean and swift. He will not suffer, I promise you."
"Thank you." The other man paused as he observed Gabriel sprawled out on the sofa. "You know, I believe I may have threatened to kill him once, as well."
Ian smothered a laugh, not wanting to wake the young man. "He is pretty, but I believe you have your lady's attentions firmly in hand."
Nottingham flashed him a winsome smile. "I believe you may be right," was all he said as he strolled from the room.
Ian dragged an extra blanket from the linen closet and draped over the sleeping boy. He went into his own room and closed the door, exhausted beyond belief. Tomorrow, before night fell, he would begin Jackie's lessons in meditation. Once the cub was calm enough, he would tell him about his other's wife, and hope that Jackie was smart enough to do what was right. They could not stay here, but he would not deny the younger man what he so desperately needed--the chance to see his heart one last time.
Chapter Twelve
Ian awoke from a deep sleep, one rife with dreams, his heart hammering in his chest. He laid there for several moments, a slow smile spreading across his handsome features. He had seen Sara there in slumber, unforgettable in her beauty, magnificent in her anger. He didn't know where she was, but she was certainly not happy to be there.
He laughed to himself, the low sound echoing through the room. That was his Sara, Ian thought to himself contentedly. She had never been one to accept what she could not change. She would fight to the last, until fate finally forced her to yield. He loved her fire, that spark that was unique to Sara's personality, and that he himself lacked. God, but he had missed her!
Ian resisted the urge to go back to sleep, knowing that there was too much to do. Sara was alive and well and ready to beat someone senseless. All was at it should be. All that was left was to free Nottingham from Kenneth Irons and then he would find her. No force in any reality would ever keep him from her; not even death itself would be capable of doing that.
He threw the covers back and lowered his feet to the floor. Absently cataloging the feel of the cold wood floor beneath his feet, he padded into the bathroom and took a quick shower. He dressed and went into the living room, stopping as the buzz of conversation came to a grinding halt.
He frowned faintly as Jackie began laughing, his eyes sweeping the room. Nottingham and his Sara were curled up together on the love seat, looking for all the world like a normal couple. McCartey sat on the sofa, looking none too pleased to be there, trying very hard to avoid looking at them. Danny Woo sat beside him, his expression guarded. Young Bowman was there as well, looking bright and alert in obviously fresh clothing. And Estacado was grinning somewhat malevolently from his usual place on the floor.
Ian covered a yawn with his hand and casually lowered himself to the floor next to him. He folded his legs Indian-style and raked his hair back out of his face. He aimed a droll look at the cub, who laughed and handed him a small white carton.
"Breakfast is served," Jackie said with a flourish.
He glanced down, sure that his distaste showed. "This is not very nutritional, cub."
Jackie grunted. "Just be grateful I didn't cook it, Brit. You might not have survived."
Ian shook his head, scattering his damp sable hair. "In that case, thank you very much." He grasped the chopsticks and began to eat, wondering just what he had interrupted.
"I suppose you're a gourmet or something?" Jackie asked around his food.
He nodded seriously. "I spent a great deal of time teaching myself to cook, Jackie. I prefer not to rely on others for such a basic thing."
Jackie rolled his light brown eyes expressively. "Yeah, and I'm in tight with the guy who runs the golden arches down the street from me."
Ian dropped his head and began to laugh, unable to help himself. "You are a true philistine, my friend."
"Screw you and your fancy shit, too, Nottingham." Jackie flipped him off, smiling to take the sting out of it. He liked it when the Brit loosened up. God knew, it didn't happen often. "So, you gonna teach me how to meditate, or what?"
Nottingham smothered a laugh at that, his amber eyes dancing with mirth. He and Ian shared a meaning-filled glance before they both laughed again. The image they shared was not something they wanted to impart to the younger man.
Jackie didn't have to be a psychic to know why they were laughing. He tried to make himself look angry, but it just didn't work. Patience was not his strong suit, to say the least, and he knew it. "Okay, guys, you can quit laughing now."
Ian looked him straight in the eye and said, "No, we can't," and they were both carried away by fresh peals of laughter.
Sara watched Nottingham laugh with something akin to wonder. She had never seen him like this, so open and free. She smiled softly as she watched him, thrilled to see him simply laughing like a normal person. He was a completely different man away from Ken Irons, and she liked it--a lot.
She reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. He turned to her, those gorgeous lips still curved in a smile, his soul-deep brown eyes sparkling with amusement. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, his touch reverent, and she brushed her thumb over his bearded chin. The love and devotion that she was so used to seeing was still there, but the permanence it implied no longer scared her. She knew that he would die for her, had always known it. More importantly, he was not afraid to live for her any longer, and they had a whole lifetime to spend loving each other.
Nottingham reached up and took her hand in his, loving the feel of her soft skin against his own. Now, he knew why Father had insisted that he cover himself at all times. This kind of tactile sensation was heady, and he was only holding Sara's hand. Had he discovered the simple pleasure of physical contact when he was younger, he may very well have gorged himself on it, discipline be damned.
Ian traded an approving glance with Jackie before surging to his feet. He threw the empty carton away and poured himself a cup of coffee. He carried it back into the other room and resumed his seat. They had a great deal of ground to cover tonight.
His icy gaze went to Danny Woo. "You have sent your family to safety?"
"Yeah." The Asian man looked uncomfortable. "Was it really necessary to--"
"Yes," both Nottingham's answered at once, and Danny nodded.
"Mr. Bowman?" Ian inquired politely.
Gabriel looked nervous as he nodded. "My friend Sly headed to his cousin's place in Brooklyn. He should be okay there, right?"
"Most likely." Ian looked at McCartey without expression. "Are your superiors aware of the situation, Agent McCartey?"
Jake looked angry as he replied, "Yeah, but they won't do anything to help. They don't want to jeopardize their investigation."
"Fucking Feds," Jackie mumbled, fumbling with his pack of cigarettes and lighting one. He'd had his own experiences with the federal governments that had left him a tad bitter.
Ian glanced at him with irritation. "Must you?"
"Yeah, I must." Jackie went over to a window and opened it. He leaned against it with a stubborn expression, silently waiting for the Brit's reaction.
A slight smile graced Ian's thing lips. "Thank you."
Jackie returned it with a wide grin. "I'm glad the stick's been partially removed, at least."
Ian uttered a low laugh, shaking his head at the younger man. "You are quite incorrigible, cub."
"I've got my moments," Jackie quipped. He took a long drag and blew the smoke out the window. "So, are we just gonna wait for the, uh, new guy to come to us, or do we take the party to him?"
"We let him come to us," Ian answered immediately. "It would be a mistake to fight this man on in his own territory, when we are unfamiliar with it. His lack of practical experience will be to our advantage, and this is the closest thing that we have to home territory. Let him come to us, and we will dispose of this nuisance properly."
Jackie smiled, and it wasn't pretty. "And then we take out Irons," he said with obvious relish.
"Oh, yes," Ian agreed in a growl of anticipation, "let us not forget Kenneth."
Sara watched as their gazes met and shivered involuntarily. Nottingham put his arm around her, understanding her discomfort. She looked up at him and smiled, running hand through his unbound hair. He took her hand in his and pressed a reverent kiss to the palm. The Witchblade swirled its approval, and he brushed his lips across it, as well.
Ian watched them with a sense of longing. His Sara had never looked at him with such tenderness. He sighed and glanced at Excalibur, grunting as the stone shimmered in time with the Witchblade's. It was as close as he was going to get to his lady for some time, he thought mournfully.
He brought a knee up, wrapping his arms around it, and rested his chin there. He missed her madly, and seeing Nottingham with his Wielder had only intensified the feeling. These past months without her had been difficult, particularly once his disappointment over her rejection had lessened. He had left New York in a vain attempt to find peace, only to be drawn back once again.
He thought of the people he had angered, who even now were undoubtedly tearing his reality apart searching for him. He had intended to approach Sara and ask her for her help, and to renew his offer of a lifetime shared together. He had little hope of his lady's acceptance, but he had to try. He had not been able to walk away from her completely, and as much as it chafed, he was compelled to ask for her heart one last time before he bowed out of her life.
"Hey, Brit?"
The cub's voice pulled him out of his reverie. Ian tilted his head enough to meet his eyes. "Yes?"
"You okay?" Jackie asked quietly, his amber eyes somber.
Ian smiled faintly. "I am fine, Jackie."
Jackie tossed his cigarette out the window and ambled towards him. "We'll find her, Ian."
He merely nodded as the cub sat beside him. "I know we will."
Jackie sprawled out, leaning back on his hands. "That fate thing again, huh?"
"The adage is true," Ian replied. "You truly cannot fight fate."
"Yeah, she's a real bitch." Jackie grinned suddenly. "Just like your Pezzini."
Ian hand shot out in a light, friendly punch. "Watch your mouth, cub. She is my bitch."
Jackie burst out laughing. "You're learning, Brit. You're learning."
Gabriel's eyes widened at he listened. He shot a quick look at Sara, who was currently frowning at the Englishman. He swallowed hard and said, "Why did he call you Ian? I thought you said your name was Christian."
"Christian is my middle name," Ian told him evenly. "I am using it while I am here."
"Okay." Gabriel took a deep breath and tried again. "What did he mean by 'your' Pezzini?"
Ian shrugged elegantly and looked at Sara. "Can he be trusted?" he asked bluntly.
Sara nodded immediately, flashing the boy a fond smile. "I would trust Gabriel with my life."
"Let us hope it does not come to that," Ian murmured. "To answer your question, Mr. Bowman, I have a Wielder of my own. I have currently lost contact with her, but I hope to remedy that shortly."
Gabriel just stared at him as wild ideas flew through his head. "Can I ask you another question?"
The big Englishman merely sighed and said, "Yes."
He leaned forward intently. "Exactly who are you?"
"He is me," Nottingham inserted quietly, trading smiles with his other self.
Gabriel's russet eyes lit up. "No way!" he exclaimed excitedly. "How is that even possible? I mean, you don't even look alike or anything."
Jackie snorted at that. "Hell, kid, we don't know. We're not even sure how we got here."
"It happened when the Darkness, the Witchblade, and I came into physical contact with one another," Ian attempted to explain. "I am the bearer of Excalibur, and that may have been the catalyst. One two many supernatural entities occupying the same space, perhaps. As Jackie said, we are not entirely sure."
Danny frowned faintly. "You said Excalibur. Like King Arthur's sword?"
"Yeah," Jackie said suddenly, "you never did explain that to me."
Ian held up his hand, displaying the Celtic ring. "I cannot remove it to show you, but this is Excalibur. It was forged from Arthur's tears at his wife's betrayal. It binds the wearer with their. . .true love, if you will pardon the overly-sentimental term."
"In my world, it is completely separate from the Witchblade," he continued, "yet also a companion to it. It bonded me to Sara Pezzini in a way that even the gauntlet was unable to do. It is to be used in defense of her, which coincided with my preordained role as her protector."
"Karma," Sara said, her gaze on the ring.
Jake frowned as he stared it. "How is a ring going to defend your girlfriend?" he asked with confusion.
"It gives me visions, both past and present, as well as brief glimpses of future as I need them. It warns me when Sara is danger, guides me to her. Also. . ."
Jackie laughed evilly in anticipation. "Oh, you guys are gonna love this part."
With no more than a thought, Ian willed the ring into sword-form. He ignored the collective gasp as he watched the tendrils climb up his arm, and down his hand. Gold gleamed through the organics, teasing them with glimpses of a broadsword that was eerily similar to Nottingham's.
Excalibur's will tried to force itself on him and he shoved it aside. In retaliation, it thrust him into a jumble of images so confusing that it would take days to sort through them all. The only one Ian truly cared about was the images of Sara, wearing the same jeans and Knicks tshirt she had been wearing last time he had seen her. Her dark hair streamed out behind her, her big brown eyes were narrowed in anger, her expression dark. She was angry again, but she was alive. Now, where was she?
Ian concentrated harder, tuning everything out but Sara. "Manhattan," he mumbled, recognizing the island as it veered away.
He came out of the vision to find Excalibur dormant, and himself flat on his back. He blinked at the concerned faces above him, finally focusing on Jackie. "What happened?" he asked hoarsely.
"Excalibur knocked you on ass," Jackie replied, helping him up. "What the fuck was that, Brit?"
Ian glared at the ring before answering. "Excalibur is sentient, much like the Witchblade. It attempted to take control of me and I fought it. It retaliated by thrusting a vision upon me."
Nottingham remained beside him as everyone else backed away. "You said 'Manhattan' before you lost consciousness, Christian. What did that mean?"
"Sara." Ian looked at him with a slow smile. "It means that Sara is in Manhattan."
Nottingham returned his smile, his dark eyes brightening. "You have found her, then."
"Yes," Ian responded with feeling.
"Thank fucking God," Jackie exclaimed with relief. "You wanna pull a GTA and go get her now, Brit?"
"No!" Ian took a deep breath and tempered his response. "I don't want her anywhere near this world's Irons. Once we have dealt with both he and his replicant, we can retrieve her, but not until then."
"Why is everyone so scared of Kenneth Irons?" Jake asked with exasperation. "He's rich and all, but he's not so hot without his bodyguard here."
He gestured towards Nottingham, who merely gazed at him silently. "You don't know what he is capable of," he said at length. "If you did, you would not treat him so lightly."
"So, tell me then," Jake threw out challengingly. "What makes this old man so damn scary?"
"Kenneth Irons is utterly ruthless," Ian told him flatly. "He was rejected by the Witchblade once, and has been obsessed with it ever since. He has money, power, immortality, and no conscience to speak of. He will do anything, kill whomever he has to, to gain control of the gauntlet."
Icy blue-gray eyes met Jake's. "Does that answer your question, Agent McCartey?"
Jake stared at him for a long moment before running a hand through his spiky hair. "Yeah, that answers it."
"I think a more important question is," Danny looked at Nottingham as he spoke, "what replicant?"
"A clone," Nottingham said in a low voice. "Of me."
"No way," Jake said flatly. "Sorry, but that's strictly science-fiction."
"Not necessarily," Gabriel said, running an absent hand through his tousled brown hair. "Vorshlag is affiliated with several companies who are on the forefront of bio-research. We can already clone animals. With Irons' millions, he'd be more than capable of funding a project like that."
Ian's eyes sharpened on the boy as his role in all of this clicked into place. In his own world, Sara had received help from the curator of the Midtown Museum. They might not look anything alike, but Gabriel Bowman played the some role in this reality, though with slight differences.
Karma again, he thought calmly. Sara would never be left alone in any world, unless she herself chose it. Ian looked to Nottingham, his expression somber. "You said that Irons is not a warrior. Does he have any fighting skills to speak of?"
"None that I have ever seen," Nottingham said, his tone subdued. "That is what I was there for."
"That will make it easier, then." Ian sipped at his coffee, not really tasting it. "In my world, Kenneth's experience with the Witchblade left him bonded to it on an intuitive level. Does any such bond exist here?"
The other man hesitated before sighing heavily. "Yes, it does."
"What?" Sara straightened, her green eyes narrowing slightly on her lover. "You never told me that!"
Nottingham winced at the accusation lacing her husky voice. "Sara—"
"It is of no consequence," Ian cut in, determined to keep control of the conversation. "Will he know of the change in your relationship with Sara?"
"Oh, yes," Nottingham told him heavily, "I'm sure he knows already."
"Good." Ian's smile was cold. "He will be angry, then. The angrier a man becomes, the less logical his thinking. He will make errors, and we will be able to take advantage of them."
Jackie laughed at that. "Learned your lesson pretty well, didn't you, Brit?"
Ian slanted him a glance, the smile warming. "Indeed, cub. Contrary to how it may have appeared the past few days, I have excellent self-control. I have Kenneth to thank for that lesson," he added wryly.
"No shit?" Jackie thought about that for a minute before whistling. "And to think, I was always worried about Irons sending you for me."
Ian chuckled. "Don't worry, Estacado. Retrieving you would ever be beneath the great Kenneth Irons."
"Yeah?" Jackie snorted. "Well, I think I'm scary enough to keep him from messing with me. Know what I mean?"
"Your confidence wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that he is dead, now would it?"
"Of course, it would," Jackie replied with a big smile. "Stupid, I'm not."
That caught Gabriel's interest. "Ken Irons is dead where you're from?" he asked.
Ian nodded, his black hair sliding over his shoulders. "A bullet to head does tend to do that, Mr. Bowman."
"Compliments of you?" Danny asked with small smile.
"Unfortunately, no," he said with regret. "Another had that honor."
"I thought you said he was immortal," Danny frowned.
Ian raised his shoulders in a shrug. He had no intension of explaining just how he had returned Kenneth Irons' mortality to him. "He always claimed to be, and he did return from the dead, once."
Jackie rolled his eyes. "What he's saying is that he doesn't know."
"No, I don't. And I don't want to," Ian added. "As far as I am concerned, my debt to Kenneth has been paid in full. He, of course, would see it differently, and I have no intention of returning to my role as his confidant. He would have to kill me, because I will never again put myself in his service."
"Shit." Jackie just shook his head. "Irons has the got to be only guy in the world who could take you then, Brit. Why is that?"
Ian raised a sable brow arrogantly. "Kenneth is nearly a century old, Jackie. He has a great deal more experience than I, and he is not bound by such concepts as honor or loyalty. He is a supremely narcissistic man, and he is utterly ruthless."
"And you're not?" Danny asked quietly.
Jackie shot him a dark look. "It's that stupid ninja thing, isn't it?" he asked finally.
"Ronin," Ian corrected gently.
"What the hell's a ronin?" he asked with a scowl.
"A masterless samurai," Danny answered for him.
"Just so." Ian smiled at the cub's frustrated expression. "My time spent in Japan was not wasted, my friend. I learned more about the nature of man there than I have from a lifetime of simple observation. I learned to see honor as it was meant to be, not merely as an abstract modern concept."
"Uh-huh." Jackie wasn't impressed. "There's no such thing as honor, Brit. We've both seen enough to know that."
"You are too young to be so cynical, my friend."
"Bite me." Jackie wandered back to the window, leaning against the wall as he lit another cigarette. "So, we're just gonna sit here, twiddling our thumbs, while we wait for Irons to send his guy after us?"
Ian accepted the change of subject with a sense of relief. Discussing himself in a room full of strangers was as alien a concept as the life he planned to live without Sara Pezzini. "We will continue your training, Jackie. Whether you believe in bushido or not, you must learn to fight without weapons. To rely only on your power for protection is foolish, and we will correct this."
Jackie made a rude noise. "I'm a fucking hitman, Ian. I know how to take care of myself."
"And I could catchany bullet you attempted to fire at me before I beat you senseless," Ian pointed out calmly.
The cub's expression darkened at the reminder. "You gonna teach me how to do that?"
Ian was momentarily surprised. "That would take years to learn, Jackie."
"So?" Jackie glared at him through a cloud of smoke. "We got plenty of time, once we get home."
He tilted his head to one side as he studied the younger man. Jackie Estacado continued to surprise him. He hadn't expected Jackie to want to continue their strange friendship once they returned. They were very different people, after all.
"If you wish to continue your training," he said carefully, "I would be honored to teach you."
"Cool." Jackie smiled suddenly. "I'm gonna be a badass ninja assassin."
Ian stifled a laugh and shook his head, not bothering to correct him. "I have seen the security at Irons' estate," he said in an abrupt change of subject. "He will likely increase it now, having lost Nottingham, but it should not be too difficult to slip past it. I will—"
"Wait a damn minute," Jackie interrupted, "I know you're not thinking of going in there alone."
"I will need someone here to protect them," Ian said, nodding his head towards Danny, Jake, and Gabriel. "We don't know how long this place will be safe. I want you here to—"
"Fuck that!" Jackie exclaimed angrily. "Nottingham can protect them. I'm going with you, Brit. You are not facing this guy alone."
Ian merely gazed up at him, his expression eloquent. "You could not stop me, Jackie."
Tawny golden eyes narrowed on his dangerously. "Maybe not now," Jackie acknowledged in low voice, "but in a few hours. . ."
The rest remained unspoken. In a few hours, night would fall, and Jackie Estacado would be at his strongest. "You may be good at manipulating people, Ian, but that shit's not going to work with me. So unless you want to go at it with that boy-version Bitchblade you got there, you're taking me to Irons' place with you. You got that?"
Ian's fine features remained impassive while he studied the man he
wasn't quite sure he could take. After a moment, he inclined his head and explained himself, something he did not like to do. "In our world, the Witchblade was not capable of ending Kenneth's life because he had bonded with it when he attempted to wear it. I am not sure just how this Irons' body would react to the Darkness, or vise-versa."
Jackie's body tensed fractionally. "You think he could take it from me, too?"
"I don't know, Jackie. Were Irons to siphon even a portion of your power, he would be nearly impossible to stop. I was more worried over that than anything else."
The cub sighed around more foul language. "So, I leave the boys in the dark and we take a damn arsenal with us. I'm still going."
"Fine," Ian growled. "If you insist on pursuing this course of action, you will endeavor to keep yourself alive. I have no wish to be further indebted to you."
Jackie flashed a sudden, charming grin. "Ah, come on, Brit. I like having the world's deadliest assassin owing me his life. Could come in handy someday."
"Or get you killed," Jake inserted with a smile.
"That too," Jackie agreed with a chuckle.
"Excuse me?" Gabriel interrupted, looking at Jackie. "Did you just call the Witchblade, the Bitchblade?"
He laughed evilly. "Oh yeah, kid. Wait until you meet his Pezzini. Bitchblade fits her perfectly."
"Estacado. . ."
"Yeah, yeah, she's your bitch. I know. That still doesn't mean I gotta like her, Nottingham."
Ian only grunted. "There are days when I do not like her, either. It changes nothing."
"Nah, it just makes you a smuck."
"Fuck you, Estacado."
Jackie's jaw dropped in shock. He gaped at the Ian for a whole five seconds before he began to laugh his ass off. "Oh, it's about damn time, Brit. I've been waiting for that," he gasped as he doubled over.
Ian was torn between anger and his own twisted sense of mirth as he watched the younger man laugh. He hated it when anyone spoke badly of Sara, but he had realized a long time ago that she was not the nicest person in the world. Nothing like being in love with a woman who hated you as much as she desired you, he thought with a sigh.
He was suddenly grateful for his ability to control his emotions to such extreme extents. It would be the only thing that would keep him sane once he removed himself from Sara's life. The bond would always be there, and Excalibur would never let him forget the duty he was going to renounce, but at least he would no longer put himself in a position to be rejected by the woman he loved. He could only hope that living in Japan would help him regain the part of himself he had allowed Sara Pezzini to take from him. Peace, while not expected, would be nice. Once he pacified the Yakuza, of course.
He still worried over Sara's safety, and he always would. But unless her life truly depended on him, she could fight her own battles. Simply put, he was done.
"Jackie, we will meditate after I have prepared for it, if you still wish to," he said abruptly. "Is that acceptable?"
"More than," Jackie answered, wiping the moisture from his eyes.
"Good." Ian rose to his feet gracefully and approached him. He reached out and smacked the back of his head lightly. "Enough."
Jackie went into fresh peals of laughter as he disappeared down the hallway. "I knew there was a reason I liked him," he said to no one in particular.
Nottingham stared after his other self with wide amber eyes. What he had just sensed from Christian was not good. Unlike him, Christian did not consider death as an escape from the pain his Wielder caused him. Instead, he had chosen to ignore the bond between them and leave her life completely. He'd caught glimpses of Japan, and the sense of peace that those images had brought to the other man. Christian was going to walk away from his Wielder, and Nottingham knew without a doubt that neither would survive it.
"Ian?" Sara laid a hand on his shoulder, alarmed by his expression. "What's wrong? What are you seeing?"
He shook his head, scattering his bronze-streaked curls. "He's going to leave her, Sara. He's going to turn his back on his duty to his Wielder."
"Good," Jackie stated flatly. "It's about damn time he stopped letting that woman lead him around by his--"
"No, Jackie. You do not understand," Nottingham told him urgently. "They are bound. Without his Wielder, Christian will never be whole."
"He'll live with it, man. We all do."
"But the bond can't be broken," Gabriel said, backing him up. "My research tells me that it's impossible for the Wielder's dark knight to sever the bond."
Jackie rolled his eyes. "So, she'll drive him crazy long-distance," he said with exasperation. "At least, he won't have to put up with that mouth of hers anymore."
Nottingham made a frustrated sound as he leaned forward. "Listen, to me, Jackie. If he abandons his duty to protect his Wielder, the consequences will be severe."
"How severe?" Jackie sharply.
"Death," the other man told him. "Death, with no possibility of rebirth."
"Huh." He thought that over for a minute. "So, you're talking about the past life thing?"
Sara was the one who nodded the affirmation. "From the first Wielder, there has been a guardian, a dark knight who protects her." At her lover's surprised expression, she smiled. "I have dreams too, you know."
Jackie grunted at that. "So, did she treat him like shit in all their lifetimes, or just this one?"
She had the grace to look embarrassed at the question, and he had his answer. "Hey, kid?"
"Yeah?" Gabriel said warily.
"We got a computer in the den. Can you find the Brit a way out of this?"
Those brown eyes widened dramatically. "I don't think there is one."
"Would you be willing to look?" Jackie asked seriously.
"Uh, sure," Gabriel said slowly. "Just don't sick those demons on me when I don't find anything."
He laughed, but the sound wasn't pleasant. "You're safe there, kid." He pointed down the hall. "It's the first door on the left."
"Just look at it as a challenge, Gabe," Sara told him, trying to lighten the mood.
"Yeah, sure," Gabriel muttered as he left the room. "Hell of a challenge there, chief."
---------------------
Ian sat in the center of the room, trying to clear his mind. Memories of Setsuke and Nomi mingled with those of Sara, bringing with them feelings of pain and guilt and despondence. He no longer knew what was wrong or right. He had allowed Nomi to live after her betrayal, yet Setsuke had paid for her loyalty with her life. And then there was Sara. . .
He sighed as his focus fractured, then shattered. The world was chaos, control an illusion. He knew this better than most, yet he found himself constantly reaching for the fantasy regardless. He hated feeling helpless. It reminded him too much of his youth, and what he had fought so hard to overcome. He would never again play the victim--not even for Sara Pezzini.
God, but he hated this, Ian thought suddenly. Sitting alone in the candlelight, unable to tear his thoughts away from a woman who continually spurned him. Was the rest of his life going to be like this? Would he always be alone, never able to turn to the other half of his soul for comfort?
Someday, Sara would choose a man to share her life. What would he do when that time came. Ian honestly didn't know how he would react if that happened. Would he be able to respect Sara's choice and let the man live, or would he lose control and kill him in a jealous rage? He knew that he was capable of it. He had no illusions about that. If he survived the Yakuza's vengeance and came to terms with them, would he truly be able to make a life for himself so far away from his heart?
He made a frustrated sound and shut his eyes resolutely. He was determined to put her out of his mind. He had so much to do before he left this world. He could not afford to be distracted in such a way. Too much depended on him retaining his discipline, both physical and mental.
He felt a presence at his back and tensed slightly. He waited for the other man to speak, sighing as he failed to do so. He looked over his shoulder, his blue-gray eyes veiled. "What is it?' he asked finally.
"Nottingham's worried about you," Jackie said as he entered the room. He dropped to the floor directly across from him, the expression in his tawny eyes hard. "He said something about you breaking your bond with Pezzini, and how that would be bad."
Ian cursed as he realized that the puppy had read his intentions regarding Sara. "It is my life, Jackie. And my decision to make," he added pointedly.
Jackie shook his head negatively, scattering his sable hair. "You're not alone in this, Ian. Have you even considered how this is going to affect the people who care about you?"
"You talk as if I am courting death," Ian responded with a small half-smile. "Leaving Sara will not kill me. It will simply. . .hurt."
"That's not what Nottingham says." Jackie leaned forward, his handsome features set in severe lines. "He says that what you're planning will kill you, Ian. That your stupid bond can't be broken."
Ian shrugged broad shoulders. "The rules of this world are different," he said. "I believe I will survive losing Sara. Nottingham would not."
Jackie scowled fiercely. "You're bullshitting me again, aren't you, Brit?"
"No," Ian replied truthfully, "I am not."
Jackie studied him closely, hating that he was so hard to read. "You better not be lying to me," he growled. "I don't have many friends, and you're one of the few people I trust. If you die because of Pezzini, I'll fucking kill her. I want you to know that."
Ian went completely still, all of his protective instincts rushing to the fore. His big body tensed as he fought them, knowing that the cub meant well. Jackie was trying to keep him from doing something he believed would result in Ian's death. Unfortunately, he had gone about it in the worst possible way.
He drew several deep breaths, lowering his head so that his hair concealed his expression. He did not want the other man to see his rage, especially not now, when Jackie was just learning not to fear him. He didn't know why, but the cub had become increasingly important to him. He was a man who made alliances, not friends. Yet that is exactly what he had done with Jackie Estacado. The Darkness was Sara's natural nemesis, therefore his as well. He found that he could not look at the younger man in such a light, and it disturbed him. Further proof, perhaps, that his judgment was lacking where his emotions were concerned.
"Ian?" Jackie watched his head come up, those icy eyes flash once, then become opaque again. He shivered a little, but stayed where he was. Ian wasn't a guy who would kill someone he considered a friend. "So, you gonna teach me how to do this meditation thing, or what?"
Ian smiled faintly at the belligerent delivery of those words. Sound judgment or not, he liked the cub, and he valued his friendship. "How solid is your power base?" he asked quietly.
Jackie frowned at the change of subject. "Nobody's gonna fuck with me, if that's what you mean."
"Good." Ian allowed himself to relax, and his smile widened. "When this over and we have returned to our world, I will be moving to Japan. I merely wished to know if you would be free leave New York. To visit me," he added awkwardly.
Jackie blinked, surprised. "You're really gonna do it, huh?"
"Yes, I am," Ian told him. "Loving Sara is not good for me. I no longer wish to remain in the same city as she. I would not like to lose your friendship, as well."
"Oh." Jackie ducked his head, staring at the wood floor. "Yeah, I can fly out sometimes. I'm the boss, remember?"
He realized that he had embarrassed the other man and cleared his throat. "If you are ready to begin your lesson, sit here." He pointed to the floor two feet to his right. "You must allow nothing to distract you as you clear your mind and open your senses."
"Uh-huh." Jackie shook his head but did as he was told. He folded his legs the way Ian had his, muttering under his breath as they protested the unfamiliar position. "Okay, now what?"
"Close your eyes," Ian instructed as he did the same. "Now, picture something peaceful. A lake, perhaps, or the moon. Now--"
"Not the moon," Jackie said quickly. "The night's not a comforting time for me anymore."
Ian merely nodded. "The lake then. A calm, cool body of water. Tell me what you see?" he asked suddenly.
"I see the lake, but there are little ripples all over it," Jackie said, frowning slightly. "I don't think they're supposed to be there."
"Those are your emotions, Jackie. Your fears and desires and thoughts. You must put them away, one at a time, until only peace remains."
"Shit," Jackie mumbled under his breath. This was a lot harder than he'd thought. "They're not going anywhere, Brit. They're just getting worse."
"That's to be expected," Ian assured him. "Think of something, a person or a place, that makes you happy, and concentrate on that."
An image of Jenny rose up in Jackie's mind, and he smiled in welcome. "I've got it."
"Good. Now, I want you to use that feeling to subdue the others. Let everything else fade away, until that emotion is the only one left."
He concentrated on Jenny's image, her big green eyes, her rich brown hair caught up in its usual ponytail. That stupid tie she'd always been forced to wear as part of her work uniform. He could see the light of friendship in her eyes, love in the purity of her smile, and was comforted. Yeah, the Brit definitely knew what he was doing.
Jackie was finally able to push back his other emotion, one by one, until they were all tucked away from the beauty that way Jenny. He went to look at the lake and it began to fade. With a small sound, he pulled it back, and put Jenny there. "Yeah, that's it," he muttered to himself. "The lake's smooth, now."
Ian listened to him with a sense of pride. He'd expected to spend the remaining hours of this night struggling to teach the cub the fine art of meditation. The young man was taking to this much more quickly than even Ian had, and that showed Ian that his judgment was not flawed. The innate power he sensed in the boy had nothing to do with the Darkness, and everything to do with Jackie Estacado.
"Alright, Jackie. Now, I want you to think about just what you want in a woman," he instructed quietly. "Not only physically, but the essence of her personality. Do you want a fiery woman, full of spirit, or a gentle flower who wants nothing more than to please you? Shape her personality even as you shape her body, and do not force it. Let her flow naturally, and form herself to your to fit your distinctive needs."
Ian opened his eyes and glanced to his right. The cub's eyes were closed, his breathing low and even. A slight frown tugged at his brows as he concentrated, and Ian suppressed a smile. He could feel the shadows stir around him, but not as they had before. The Darkness was not fighting its master, but working with him. Meditation was a useful tool for calming oneself, and Jackie would be able to increase both his power, and his self-control with it. Eventually, he would be more than a thug with a gift. He would be a warrior.
He looked up as the shadows before them began to come together. A slender form was just barely discernable, but it was undeniably feminine. It began to warp slightly, and Ian frowned. "You are forcing it, Jackie. Take a deep breath and let her form on her own."
The younger man sighed and straightened his spine, the line between his eyes deepening. "This isn't easy, man," he murmured, then forced himself to relax. "Okay, that's better. It's coming, again."
Ian sensed the multiple presences forming in the corners of the room. The darklings had joined their master, their eyes luminous in the dark. He frowned darkly at them, willing them to remain silent. He was sure they were curious about what their master was doing, but Ian didn't want them distracting the cub and ruining this endeavor. It was too important to the younger man.
"Brit?"
Ian refocused on Jackie, and the shape taking form near him. "You're doing well, Jackie," he said soothingly. "Can you see her in your mind? Can you feel her wants, her desires?"
"Yeah, but. . ." Jackie's hands clenched into fists on his knees. "She's not right. Something's missing, and I can't figure out what."
"Remain calm. We will figure this out." Ian took a chance and set his hand the cub's shoulder. "Show me what you're seeing, Jackie. Allow Excalibur to link us, and we will discover just what you have missed."
Jackie tensed slightly before nodding. "Here goes."
Ian saw the young woman in the cub's mind and smiled, Excalibur echoing it. He realized that this was Jackie's Jenny, the woman he had lost to Frachetti, and had died to avenge. She was lovely, with big green eyes and an honest face. Her smile was sweetly innocent, and Ian was immediately reminded of Setsuke. She had had that same pure, untainted quality that Ian now saw in the woman Jackie Estacado had loved.
"Hey, check it out."
"It's working!"
"The boss did it!
"It's a girrrl."
The darklings whispered comments shattered Ian's concentration. He pulled himself from the cub's mind, his fury showing as he turned to face the imps. He went completely still, his big body freezing, as he saw just what the Darkness had managed to create.
"Banish it," he said hoarsely, barely able to speak.
"Huh?" Jackie opened his eyes, a wide grin splitting his face. "Hey, it worked! I made a woman!"
"No!" Ian stood rooted, unable to move. "Banish it, Estacado."
"What?!" Jackie looked up at him with disbelief. "You've got to be fucking kidding me! I did it, Brit. I made a fucking woman! And she's hot," he added as turned back to look at her.
Excalibur formed without its Ian's permission, determined to root out the threat to its bearer. Ian didn't notice, his wide eyes fastened to the beautiful young woman reaching for him with delicate motions. He backed away and she followed, her black eyes liquid with emotion. He came up against the wall, unable to do anything more as she approached him.
"Banish it!" He yelled suddenly, fear tingeing his words. "Banish it, now!"
Jackie jumped to his feet, stunned to see Ian looking. . .well, scared. "What's wrong, Brit?" He saw that the chick he'd made was making a slow beeline for Ian and scowled. "Oh no, you don't. I made you. Get your ass over here."
The gorgeous Asian girl didn't even acknowledge him as she continued her slow pursuit of Ian. Jackie saw then that Excalibur was out and extended to its full length. He took a step back and willed the girl to him. It didn't work, and he swore with frustration.
"She's not listening to me, Brit. What do you want me to do?"
Ian didn't answer as a hundred different emotions chased themselves around his head, through his heart. "Aijou," he whispered, and her answering smile devastated him.
One delicate hand reached for his face and he lost control. Excalibur lashed out of its own volition. "Uchinohito," she whispered as Excalibur sliced through her.
Jackie watched, stunned, as she fell to the floor, cut in half by Ian's weapon. "What the fuck did you do that for?!"
As if coming out of a trance, Ian tore his gaze away from the fallen woman. He leapt over her and stalked from the room, nearly running over Nottingham in his need to get away. Jackie followed him, pissed beyond belief. He'd finally managed to make a woman, and the Brit killed her?!
"Oh hell, no," he said to himself as he followed the other man into the living room. "You're not going anywhere, Brit. I want a fucking explanation."
Ian barely heard him as he reached the front door, intent only on escaping the pain in his soul. A shadow formed over the door, halting him with an evil growl. He whirled around, the look in his silvery eyes frantic. "What do you think you are you doing?" he asked, his voice deepening with dangerously.
"Making you listen to me." Jackie stopped in the center of the room and crossed his arms over his chest. "Start talking, Brit. I want to know what the hell just happened."
Those eyes narrowed menacingly as Ian brought Excalibur up before him. "Release the door. Now."
This time, Jackie wasn't taking any chances. He pulled the Darkness around him immediately, cloaking himself in his armor. Night had fallen, and Ian Nottingham wasn't the top of the food chain anymore. "I'm not doing shit until you tell me what's going on," he stated, ignoring the attention they were receiving from the others. "Talk to me, Ian. Tell what happened back there."
Emotions welled up within Ian and he'd had enough. He turned back to the door and simply cut a swath through the shadows. They screamed in pain, hissing threats as they pulled back. Ian knew that they weren't retaliating because of Jackie, but he didn't care. At this moment, he'd welcome the fight.
Jackie winced and held the Darkness at bay. Damn, but the Brit was quick. Even if he'd let them, the shadows probably wouldn't have been able to take him. "Shit," he said to no one in particular, wincing as the door slammed.
"Who was she?"
He turned to find Nottingham standing behind him. "I don't know. The Brit freaked out before he could tell me anything."
Gabriel came out of the hall, his brown eyes wide with fear. "Why is there a dead woman in the back bedroom?" he asked shakily.
"A what?!" Sara jumped to her feet. "What are you talking about?"
"She's mine." Jackie ran a hand through his hair as he realized how that sounded. "What I mean is, I made her. With the Darkness," he added.
"Why is she in two pieces?" Gabriel asked, swallowing hard.
Jackie shrugged his bewilderment. "You're asking the wrong guy about that, kid. Darkus?"
The darkling appeared out of nowhere, forming in the shadows near the sofa. "Yeah, boss?"
"I want you to get rid of. . .it," he said finally. "Take it outside, to the roof, a dumpster. Whatever. Just get it out of here."
"Not the roof," Nottingham said quickly, his gaze going to the ceiling.
"What is it with you guys and rooftops?" Jackie sighed and shook his head. "Darkus, I don't care if you guys eat the damn thing, just get it out of here before the Brit comes back."
The demon just nodded. "We're on it, boss."
Jackie smiled faintly as the darkling scurried away. "I don't know what's up with the Brit, but I'm going to find out. The darklings will leave you alone unless they're attacked, so you'll be okay."
"Wait." Nottingham made an elegant gesture with one bare hand. "You're going like that?"
He looked down and realized that he was still in full armor. "Shit." He forced it away, looking normal once again. He glanced towards the ceiling and hesitated as self-preservation reared its ugly head. "Maybe, you should go. He looked pretty pissed at me."
An understatement, Nottingham thought. Aloud, he merely said, "I believe that would be best. You deal with. . ." his voice trailed off as he made another gesture.
"Yeah, I'll get it cleaned up before you guys come back."
"Ian." Sara approached him with a worried expression. "He didn't look sane. I don't want you going up there alone."
Nottingham smiled solemnly and brought her hand to her lips. "I can sense his emotions, Sara. He is in a great deal of pain, but he will not harm me."
She touched the side of his cheek. "Can I talk you out of this?" she asked hopefully.
"I'm sorry, Sara, but no."
She brushed her lips over his and stepped away. "Be careful then, Ian."
"I will," he promised solemnly.