Disclaimer is still in the prologue and in the first chapter if anyone wants so bad as to read it :P Here's the next chapter!
~ Chapter 3~
"Detective? Um Detective, are you all right?" The crime scene photographer looked nervously at her. "I mean you were um just staring at the door and all. You looked like you weren't all here. So are you um okay?" He wrung his hands together.
"The door. Why can't I remember the door?" Sara murmured vaguely.
"The um what?"
Sara glanced up. Thinking quickly, she answered, "Oh! I was just trying to remember if I locked my door on my way out today. With all this burglary lately, I really should keep it locked." Stop babbling, she thought to herself.
"Well, um locks are always good to use and all. Keeps stuff from um getting in and all unless ya um got a key." He opened his mouth to give her more pearls of wisdom, but Sara just excused herself and beat a hasty retreat.
As soon as Sara entered the building, she was enveloped by a chill that her warm clothes could not repel. The emptiness of the place always filled her with unease yet she made her way purposely towards the secretary. "Is Irons in?" she asked though she already guessed what the answer would be.
The secretary did not even look up from the romance novel that she was engrossed in. "He's waiting for you in his office. You may see him now." Sara thanked her and headed down the familiar hallway. The echoes of her steps resounded in her ears almost like someone was right behind her. She cast a glance over her shoulder just in case there was someone. Still there was only the secretary at the desk. Out of another hallway, a man wearing a long trench coat that swirled around his ankles paced to her side. The usual cap rested a top his head and his hands her clasped behind his back. His hazel eyes remained downcast and his face an impassive mask.
"Here to see your boss," Sara said unnecessarily and turned away from Nottingham. She continued walking all the while ignoring Irons' henchman who trailed behind closely.
"Ah, Sara," Irons moved away from the book he had been reading as she came inside his office. "What brings you to visit me today?" His lips twisted into what passed as a smile though it did not reach his eyes. Sara decided to get down to business. She held up a picture of the murder victim.
"Doctor Shillinger. He belonged to one of your research projects. What can you tell me about him?"
Irons turned to admire one his paintings on the wall. "He's a brilliant man, an absolute genius. He has this knack for figuring things out. His love for his work is above and beyond everything else. Loves a good puzzle. You would like him, Sara."
"Guess I'll never find out. He was murdered last night."
Irons frowned slightly. "That's rather unfortunate."
"Indeed. What type of work did he do?"
"He specialized in performance enhancers. He had quite a list of athlete clients. His vitamins made them even better than before."
"I didn't know you worked with athletes."
"I do, but not the usual kind," he replied cryptically.
She looked at him in annoyance. "Do either of you know how to have a regular conversation?" she said motioning at Irons and Nottingham. The former appeared amused by her comment. The latter standing beside her to the left just continued to stare at the tiled floor appearing to not have even heard her, which made her all the more annoyed.
"Talking about dead people is regular conversation?" Irons retorted raising an eyebrow inquiringly.
"Well it seems everyone who knows you ends up dead. Must be your charming personality. Do you have any other information about Shillinger?"
"Why, Sara! Isn't the Witchblade telling you answers and giving you insight on this?"
"You know it isn't."
"Perhaps if you would let me teach you, the answers will come clearer."
"I'll pass."
"Suit yourself, Sara. In time you will come." Irons left the room heading deeper into the building.
The sound of cloth brushing against the floor alerted her to Nottingham's movement. Standing in front of her now, he said, "All things are connected now. Everything is part of a web. Look closer. The pieces to your puzzle are right at hand."
"You're worse than he is! I bet you horde fortune cookies in that coat of yours." The corners of Nottingham's mouth turned up into a rare smile. Sara began walking to the door when his voice stopped her.
"Don't be frightened, Sara. All is well. Remember the pieces are right at hand."
"All is well? A man is dead. How is that well?" She turned to face him, but he was already gone. "Spook," she muttered under her breath.
As soon as she opened the door to her apartment, she could hear the sound of her phone ringing impatiently. I swear I never have any time these days, she thought still annoyed over her encounter with Irons and Nottingham. Surrendering, she picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Yo, it's Jake," his voice came over the line, " Well, this case is turning out to be pretty bizarre. Vikki checked out the body and said the cause of death was definitely by the knife. The thing is the knife wound is more like one by a sword. I got her in touch with some sword expert guys and looked at it. The dudes said it looked like a cut from a medieval sword. I found something else interesting. Our good doctor wasn't the only one killed with the strange sword. Within the last week, there were two more cases."
"Two more cases?" Sara asked in surprise.
"Yeah. And here's the weird thing. One was in London and the other in Paris. Louis Edwards who ran an orphanage and Jean DeLac who was a psychiatrist. No murder suspect, no sign of break-ins at their homes, and no weapon founded though both had the same sword wounds."
"Someone's been doing their research. Nice work, Jake. I have some info too. Turns out Shillinger worked on performance enhancers for athletes."
"You mean like drugs or vitamins?"
"Sounded more like drugs to me. Look it's late, I'll see you at the office tomorrow."
" 'k, see you tomorrow." Sara hung up. It was going to be a long night.
****
Ian pulled the door shut behind him. He moved stiffly from the house towards the park. His dog followed along faithfully at his heel always staying close and not wandering too far. Up until recently, he had considered Serena to be his closest companion. For the past few weeks, Irons had been letting him out for a few hours each day. For once, Ian felt gratitude towards the strange older man. If it had not been for him, he would have never gotten to meet the girl. The moment he had seen her, he had been entranced. Her thick hair had been in two pigtails that whipped around in the breeze. Her eyes had sparkled brightly and she had flashed a frequent mischievous grin. He had watched her play football with the boys. She was obviously a better player than the rest. When she had spoken to him the first time, he had run away feeling unworthy. She reminded him of a patch of tigerlillys that grew in the park. Vibrant, relentless, wild, free, beautiful. She's my flower, he thought silently, smiling happily. She made living with Irons bearable. His memory of the punishment last night for being late faded from his mind and he ignored the pain as he spotted the girl.
He could tell as their distance decreased that she was upset about something. The furrow in her brow deepened as he limped to her side. "Are you all right?" concern filled her voice. He found himself nodding slightly in reply. An angry light flickered in her eyes. "Was it that man who hurt you?" Again he nodded. A lock of midnight hair fell across his face, but he made no move to smooth it back. She stepped closer to him. Not used to having someone invade his space, he stumbled back a step. He watched as her face softened. "Is he your father?"
"No!" he heard himself blurt out sharply. He took a deep breath to calm himself down before continuing. "No, he's my guardian."
"What's that?"
"Someone who takes care of you like a parent but not a real one," he tried to explain.
"Well, where are your real parents?"
"I…I don't know," he admitted in a quiet voice that was slightly strained. He turned away from her so that she would not see the tears in his eyes. He could not let her see him so weak. "The people at the orphanage never told me."
"There must be something of them you remember or have that belonged to them, right?" She looked hopefully at him trying to find something to take the pained look from his eyes.
"Well, there's this." He reached into his pocket. In his hands, he cradled a small object gently with the utmost care. Sara reached out to hold it.