The Storm by Ronnee
Chapter 13: Storm Touches Down.
852 Prospect Ave, 18 November, 7:45 PM.
Simon stalked up the hallway, not particularly happy with the day's events and even less so with his suspicion that the week was going to get worse. Between the federal agents who had taken over the cult case and the odd behavior of his chief detective, the police captain was about at the end of his rope. And today as only Wednesday, he had two more days to get through.
Before he reached the door, Ellison opened it and waved him in. "Hi, Simon. That bad?"
"The feds want Fortaleza delivered to them." Simon replied, tossing his gloves on the side table. "Where are they?"
"Rafe took her home after she went to the morgue." Blair handed him a beer, his eyes studying the captain intently. "She id'd the victim at the museum and well, he's a VIP. Second son of the Peruvian consul."
"Great. That must be why the Feds're claiming it so vehemently." Simon took a swig of the beer and forcibly relaxed his shoulders. "I have an idea on how to keep the Feds away from Alex Fortaleza. AJ is your little sister, right? Did you ever fill out the visitor's paperwork?"
The sentinel shook his head, a grin spreading across his face as he realized what Simon was hinting at. Just a little clerical error and a bit of fudged paperwork. After all, if she were his sister, wouldn't they have the same last name?
"Should we call and have them come over?" Blair asked, heading for the phone.
"No. Rafe was going to make sure she took her painkillers. She's not going to be anything close to coherent until morning." Jim replied with a smirk. "We'll tell them in the morning."
"First, what exactly is AJ's real name? The FBI Special Agent in Charge called her E. Alex Fortaleza y Trujillo. I thought she was AJ Fortaleza." Simon began.
"Um," Blair frowned, thinking hard for a moment.
"Kyrie Eleason Alessandre Jacobo Fortaleza y Trujillo." Jim rattled off the name and took a swig of his beer. At the slightly stunned expressions on his friends' faces he shrugged. "Once she told me the whole thing, I wasn't about to forget it."
"Oh." Simon frowned. This might be harder than he thought. "What's Cage's full name? I mean, what do the letters stand for?"
"Don't know." Blair replied. He looked over at his sentinel.
Jim stood and headed for his room. It took him a moment to find the files he had gotten from his contacts. He didn't think he had seen Cage's name anywhere in the files. In fact, he hadn't seen AJ's name either. He was slowly rereading the main file when he returned to the living room. "Blair, remember those notes you made back when you first found out you were working with AJ? Do you still have them?"
Blair nodded and darted off to get his laptop. It took him a few minutes to find the file he'd made and he skimmed it. "Got it. Looks like there are no notes on either of their full names. You think his is pretty close to hers?"
"Yep." Jim grabbed a book from the bookshelf and flipped to a photograph of the Peruvian mountains. He pointed to a small line of print. "Why are some of Cage's pictures marked k.A.j?" He turned to another picture, this one a Desert Storm battlefield, and pointed to the photo credit line. "And then others are K.a.j.?"
Blair smiled and pointed to his notes. "The same reason while there are more articles published under E. Alex Fortaleza, there are a lot under K Drew J Trujillo?"
Simon smiled. His plan might definitely work. "Good. I'll let the Feds think they're looking for Cage – the photographer who isn't here. You two figure a way to keep AJ under wraps and out of the way, without losing her input."
"That's easy. As long as we update her on the progress on the murders, AJ has enough on her hands with the exhibit." Blair grinned. "And if Brian is free in the evenings – well, he'll keep her out of trouble."
The other two men nodded their agreement. From what they had seen today, the young detective might have his hands full but they didn't doubt he would be able to keep AJ away from the FBI agents.
Rainier University Apartments, 11:30 PM.
The sound of whimpering made Rafe look up. He had hoped the painkillers would give her a good night's sleep, but it looked like the dreams were back. Shutting the case file and returning it to his briefcase, he stood. Out of sheer force of habit, even though he knew logically that he wouldn't need it, he settled his holster more comfortably on his shoulders.
"Kyrie? Wake up, love." He whispered, approaching the side of the bed. She tossed her head, a faint cry escaping her lips.
He thought he heard something and looked up – just in time to see the ceiling tile split above him. He grabbed her shoulders and rolled, taking her over the side of the bed with him. There was a dull thud as a wooden box dropped onto the floor where he'd been standing.
"Brian?" The dim light made her eyes pure silver as she stared at him.
He reached for the light and flicked it on. "What did you have hidden up there?"
"Nothing." Her voice was confused. "I put the king knife in the museum vault weeks ago."
"Then what fell?" He asked, noting to himself that he should ask about the king knife. What on earth was a king knife, and did he really want to know?
Together they stood and moved around the bed. The wooden box was carved and painted with fanciful designs, captivating the detective's attention. It seemed to shimmer and flicker in the light. The designs seemed to beckon him closer. He noticed that the lid, carved with beautiful, coiling, feathered creatures he could not name, had broken off when the box hit the floor.
He could see something shining against the dark, velvety lining and he stepped to the side to see it better. It burst into flight, scattering a rainbow of light as it burst free of the box. It aimed itself just to the side of him, and he noted that its path would give him a perfect view of the object. As it sped forward, light glimmering off sharp edges, his eyes widened and instinctively he reached for it, trying to move between it and its target.
"Brian! Don't touch it!" Kyrie's yelled warning came too late and his hand closed around the cold, stony hilt of the dagger, stopping it mere inches from her throat.
"It's so beautiful." He whispered, awe and admiration winging through him. He stared at the faceted blade. Its facets seemed to collect the dim light, intensifying it before releasing it again. The pale, milky stone felt like raw silk, clinging slightly to his hand. He tilted the blade from side to side, watching the light slide and sparkle along its narrow length.
A thin rivulet of red slowly trickled down the blade's center groove, marring the perfection of the blade. He frowned; for the first time he noted that he could no longer feel his hand. Uncurling his fist from the hilt, he saw the sharp, faceted edges, and the damage those edges had done. He stared, disbelieving and confused, at the deep cuts slicing through his palm and his fingers. But there was no pain – his hand was completely numb as the blood welled from the wounds.
"Shh. It's going to be okay. I'll take care of it, querido." Kyrie crooned in his ear, one hand wrapping around his wrist, pressing against the veins, and the other delicately plucking the stone weapon from his hand. Her eyes glittered, tears racing down her cheeks as she dropped the knife back into its wooden box. As the knife fell, its weight flipped the blade up and it landed hilt first. There it lay quietly, the red stains vanishing slowly.
The moment the knife was out of his grasp, Rafe felt a deep burning pain race from his wounds up through his arm. The sheer agony dropped him to his knees, fighting to keep from screaming as it burned. The pain was like acid in his blood, with every heartbeat, he could feel the fire spiral further through his body.
Kyrie knelt with him, tying strips torn from her pajamas to the wounds. Tears ran down her face and splashed onto the bandages, soaking the thin material further. She whispered soft, unintelligible words as she worked, trying to comfort him – to give him something to concentrate on besides the pain. Vaguely he noted that the pain vanished as her tears trickled over the wounds.
It took him a moment to notice the occasional drop of red that fell from her fingers onto his skin. He froze, staring at it in confusion before reaching for her wrist. Gently, he turned her hand, exposing it to his sight. A thin series of cuts marred her fingertips and palm. Even her light grip on the knife had been enough for the sharp, faceted edges to cut through flesh. Her caution had rewarded her with milder wounds that only oozed blood, but from the way she flinched at his touch, he doubted the pain could be much less.
"I'm sorry, love." He whispered, bringing the wounded hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the worst of the wounds, "A kiss to make the pain go away."
For a moment, the pain flared higher and Rafe could not breathe through it. He felt Kyrie shudder in his grip. Then it all was gone. As his eyes went dark he could have sworn he heard the high, shrill shriek of a falcon.
Kyrie held him as he slowly sank into unconscious and they slid from the dream state. Unable to support his weight with her wounded hand, she let him sprawl on the bed, unconscious of the hand stroking his cheek. With a competence that would have startled anyone watching, she stripped him out of his shoulder holster and placed it on the nightstand. Even though she knew she would not wake him, she found herself whispering in prayer, "Please be a dream. Please don't do this. He doesn't know what it means. Let it be a dream."
Finally, after a long time, she stood and went into the other room. There leaning against the balcony door was a carved box. With a weary sigh, she opened the door and brought it inside. She did not have to open it to know what was in it. The cult knew. There was nothing she could do to prevent the spread of the news. Now that they knew who and what Brian was to her, the end was beginning. The knife was his now, forever, and always. It was bound to his blood just like the king knife was bound to hers. And she had no idea how to explain either of them to him or the sentinel and his guide.
Reflexively, following the conditioning of years, she hid the box away. Unseen, maybe there was a slim chance at forgetting it. For now she had work to do. The cult's knowledge of Brian changed things. She had calls to make and deals to broker. She had to do something to find a way to get him out of the madness that was coming.
Rainier University Apartments, 19 November, 3A.M.
"Ese?" Kyrie's voice startled Rafe awake. It took him a second to figure out where he was as the last he remembered he had been working in the other room. The fear he heard in her voice had him out of bed and heading for the living room. Grabbing his weapon from the bedside table, he froze in shock. His hand was bound neatly in strips of a thin material. Remembering the dream, he pulled off the bandage and stared at the healed slashes. He was not going crazy. They were there. Hearing a murmur from the living room, he shelved his thoughts and, moving silently, followed the quiet sound of speech.
"Are you certain, Sarah?" She was leaning against the glass balcony door, one hand splayed against it to hold her upright. She stared vacantly into the dark night sky, silent shudders wracking her body as she listened to the person on the other end of the line. "Have you contacted Cage? No, I can do that. You need to close down the division and get yourself to safety. I'll take care of warning the others. Leave the net up, someone might need it. Who took it down?"
Rafe settled on the arm of the sofa, keeping his attention focused on the tense figure. He watched as her knuckles tightened on the receiver, until they were white with the force of her grip. "Any good news? Mine is bad, too. Los Hijos – they are definitely here and I missed their arrival. Mid-June. Who can I contact to get the approval to pass on details? Yes, the Federales have arrived. I don't think they'll be able to help. No, I don't trust them either. I'll work on it. Listen, you need to get out of there. I'll handle everything else. Grab the stuff you need and run. I'll leave a message on your voicemail if I need anything." She listened for a long moment before silently disconnecting and letting her hand fall to her side. Her forehead dropped until it was resting on the cold glass beside the hand supporting her.
Rafe stood, intending to go to her side when she moved; dropping the phone and slamming her fist into the glass door. He froze, momentarily stunned by her actions. Her fist slammed into the safety glass a second time before he could react. He grabbed her fist, wrapping his hand around it, "Kyrie! Stop!"
She turned, eyes opening to focus on his face. Fear, fury, and then confusion echoed in her voice. "Que? Brian? When? I didn't hear you wake up."
He held onto her hand until he was certain she recognized him. "What happened?"
She shook her head wordlessly, ignoring the angry tears that streaked her face. With a desperate strength, she pulled out of his hold and began pacing restlessly around the room. As she paced, Brian noticed she was gathering things and dropping them on the coffee table. Her embroidered vest, a journal, her medicine pouch, a small set of throwing of knives, odd-looking stone and ceramic pots, a set of woven boxes, a crate newly arrived from Brazil; they were all quickly moved.
He watched silently as she smoothed out the vest, carefully unknotting tiny ties. Then she began systematically sliding pouches from the medicine bag to the vest, tying them in place. Groups of leather-enclosed darts were inspected and set aside as were the contents of one of the woven boxes. The throwing knives were attached to hidden sheathes so that their hilts looked like ornamentation.
"Kyrie, you need to talk to me." Brian knew something was badly wrong. It looked like she was getting ready for trouble.
"They took out Ese and the researchers. I had to close down Rovers." She didn't look at him as she spoke, concentrating on what her hands were doing.
The words made no sense, not to him, but the pain in her voice told him it wasn't something he could ignore. He saw the micro-cassette recorder and understood. "You dreamed again, didn't you?"
"Yes." She finished with the vest and set it aside.
"Tell me about it, please." Brian's soft request made her look up. He could see the stark fear and pain in her eyes and it rocked him. He felt like he was loosing her, bit by bit. "Don't shut me out."
"I saw Ese – saw him fall to the masked ones." Her voice was curiously flat. "But it makes no sense, they are here. I called his home in Washington but there was no answer. I called the offices. No answer. I called Sarah – she said Ese purged my information before they broke into the offices. Now only Cage and I are left – we are the last who know anything about the Children of the Sun."
She turned back to her work, breaking open the customs seals on the crate and pulling the nails from the lid. She pulled a small wooden box from the crate and began setting up a tiny brazier inside a slick looking black stone bowl. Within minutes she had a small pot of simmering herbs and whatever else she'd thrown into it. Rafe only knew it looked strange – the gray powdery caked things she had added to the fresh herbs had dissolved as soon as they hit the water. And the scent was – different. Not bad, just different.
The soft chirruping sound of her phone made him glance at it. The woman ignored it, carefully adding another herb to the pot. Rafe stood and went over to where it lay, and at her disinterested shrug picked it up. "Hello?"
"Menina?" The warm, accented voice was puzzled. It stiffened. "Where is Fortaleza?"
"Who's calling?" Brian asked quietly.
"Tell Cage, I'm busy. I'll take the phone in a moment." Kyrie called, not looking up from her work.
He repeated that to the man on the phone and there was a short silence. Then Cage asked, "Who the f*** are you?"
"Detective Brian Rafe." He replied.
"Detective? Is Fortaleza in trouble?"
"Kyrie is fine, she's just busy." Brian replied, shaking his head at the man's cautious questions.
"Kyrie? She told you her true name?" Pure astonishment rang through the phone lines.
Before Brian could respond, she was at his side, taking the phone from him. "Cage. Bad news. Bad information. First known strike seems to have been in July, that makes it probable that they've been in Cascade since early spring – my guess is February or March."
The business-like tone of voice got his attention. She had returned to the coffee table and was curled up on the floor next to it. She fidgeted with her journal. Watching her, he sat on the sofa, not quite close enough to touch her, but close enough she could reach out to him if she wanted support. "No. I didn't dream when I first got here – I was drinking the tea. Three days ago they broke through the tea. Yes, I know what that means." She bowed her head at the response. "It's my life, not yours… I haven't found the wall of seeing corpses but there is no way they can be this far along without that ritual… Keirnan, it's bad… No, I don't think that will work, this is too far along… How many are missing from the tribes? Who are they?"
There was a long silence during which Kyrie began writing in the journal. Rafe watched as she quickly noted the names, dipping her pen in the ink well time and time again. Three columns of names formed on the cream colored page.
"Ayuane is already among the dead. That means Tito will be sacrificed tonight if I can't find them. Cage – they got Ese from his home." She paused, looking over at Brian and smiled, her eyes softening. "Yes, I'm being careful… Yes, I trust him. He wouldn't be here otherwise… I promise to introduce you two when you get here." She listened for a moment and shook her head with a grin. "I promise."
"Did you find out about the release? The Federales said that? Okay, I can manage. How long before they come looking for me? You clipped it to the old reports? Mmmm. Yeah, that might keep them off my back, but it makes them think you are the one they want." She hesitated for a moment before adding, "Don't trust Matheson. I dreamed him. If anything goes bad … go to Cascade's central precinct, the Major Crimes Unit. That's where Brian works. Or you can talk to Jim Ellison – remember Incacha's Enqueri? Yeah, same man. He'll help you. How long will it take? When did you go to Viet Nam? When will you know your route? Call me when you know. Take care; you're a target now. Blood kin is best for the final rounds, you know that."
Kyrie closed the connection and dropped the phone on the table. She leaned back, resting her head on Brian's thigh. He let his hand rest on her head, his fingers gently massaging her scalp. "Are you going to tell me about it?"
"My tribesmen have been vanishing. Enough to perform a formal sacrifice, the kind used to signal the end of times. That means they are actively going to be hunting for a way to get my cooperation. Ese runs a research group on the East Coast. He vanished several days ago and his complex was looted last night. But they didn't get any information on me because he purged my files three weeks ago. I didn't even know he was in danger." She whispered, one hand curling around his calf as she spoke. Brian could feel the wetness of her tears as they landed on his leg. "I should have known, I should have warned them."
"You aren't the one doing this, Kyrie." He soothed. He knew she wasn't sleeping thanks to the dreams and that had to be contributing to the desperation in her voice. "You can't be everywhere or fix everything."
"I'm supposed to stop these people, Brian. And I haven't been able to – they keep moving faster than I can."
"That's because you've been working alone. Now, you've got us to help, but you have to let us help." He pulled her up, forcing her to stand. "Can you leave that stuff or does it have to be watched?"
Kyrie looked at the brazier and shook her head no. "It needs to simmer until this afternoon. I just have to keep it from drying out."
"Come on, then. Let's get you to bed. I'll keep it from burning and you – you get some sleep." He led her to the bedroom. Gently he pushed her onto the bed, removed her oversized T-shirt, and began kneading the tense muscles in her shoulders. "It'll be all right while I get you to sleep. Just relax and let me take care of everything."
He let his fingers dig in, breaking up the knots of tension before gently soothing the muscles back into place. As he worked, he stared at the scars and the tattoos that marred her skin, wondering how many times she had stood alone, trying to protect her tribe. Part of him wanted to shake her out of her relaxation and demand that she promise to stay alive for him. Another part of him wanted to bundle her up and hide her away from the crazies running loose in Cascade.
As Joel would say, he'd moved too far too fast and he was lost. He knew it. If her fears were realized, Brian Rafe knew he would be worse off than he had been that day in South Africa. His sixteenth birthday had been hell, but it hadn't taken away his soul. He wasn't certain he would survive if he lost Kyrie. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the movements of his hands against her back. He wasn't going to think about it. Not now, not later – because it wasn't going to happen. He wouldn't let it.
852 Prospect Ave, Apartment 307, 7 A.M.
"Aw, man, it never rains. It pours." Blair's gripe made the sentinel look up at him. The anthropologist was staring at his computer in disgust. "Someone flooded my e-mail. I've got over a thousand e-mail messages."
"Spam?" Jim asked quietly, trying not to laugh. The idea that people could send 'Spam' over the Internet made him chuckle every time.
"No. It doesn't look like it." Blair murmured, reading the first message. "No way, man. This is so not cool." With a flurry of quick clicks, he switched screens to his web browser. He typed in a password and cursed. Quickly he tried another URL. Another stark white screen came up, stating harshly, 'Error, the URL is not valid'. He entered another and a warning popped up. 'This site removed by owner, please delete your bookmark.' The fingers were still for a moment and then another URL was typed in. This time a web page appeared.
The light blue background was calming but the flashing symbols around the edges of the page were glaring. The words scrolling across the banner made Blair frown as he read them aloud. "Rovers, Inc. is closed until further notice. Due to technical problems, this site and all related sites are not available. Please, be patient with us. Code 4921."
"What's up?" Jim was standing behind the younger man.
"Well, the first of those e-mail I got was from the main Rover account. It said they were dumping all information they had on hyperactive senses to my account and then closing down. It wasn't what they said, it was how they said it." Blair replied, pulling up the e-mail again.
Jim whistled as he read the words on the screen.
Mr. Sandburg,
If you get this message, then I have been unavailable for over 72 hours. It seems that one of our projects may have had unforeseen consequences. All of my files on hyperactive senses will be following this email. Due to the nature of your research, and to protect you and any subjects of study that you have, by this time your file will have been purged from our system. I have already arranged that your next grant installment be routed to you through another means to protect your research. My deepest apologies for any inconvenience this may cause.
Rover S
"It doesn't look good, Chief."
"Jim, they don't have anything about my research. Nothing at all. I never gave them the parameters about sentinels." Blair said softly. "I helped some people in Europe with a single overactive sense, nothing like what you've got. So why did they feel they had to protect me?"
"I don't know." Jim's voice was puzzled. "Unless they already knew about me."
"But how would they know… oh, man. Brackett?"
"He's still in prison." The tense reply was followed a hand landing on Blair's shoulder. "This is something else. I think we need to go see Fortaleza."
"Huh?"
"She's one of them, or Cage is." Jim reminded his guide.
"Oh, yeah. Right. Let me grab my stuff."
"I'll call Rafe and warn him we're on our way."
Rainier University Apartments.
"She's still asleep." Brian met them at the door, dragging it open before they even got a chance to knock.
"Rough night?" Jim asked, eyeing the younger detective curiously. He wasn't sure he had ever seen the dapper detective so – human looking.
Rafe was unshaven, his hair out of place, and his clothes were obviously the same ones he'd been wearing the day before. "Damn visions woke her a couple of times. I managed to get her to sleep around four thirty or so."
"Sounds like you didn't get much sleep either." The sentinel moved over to the brazier, and added a little water to the mixture. "When did she start mixing this up?"
"Sometime early this morning." Brian moved to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He set out fresh mugs and gestured at them. "There's coffee if you want it."
Blair nodded, moving to fill them. "Do you know what she dreamed?"
"It's on tape." Rafe sipped at his coffee. "So, what's so important?"
"Has she said anything about a group called Rovers?" Ellison asked quietly, picking up herb pouches and checking them. Finding the one he wanted, he carefully added a small pinch to the pot.
"Yes, a little. Hey, what are you doing?" The other man glared at the sentinel.
"We need to ask her about them." Jim ignored Rafe, cocking his head for a second. Then he grinned. "Better make a cup for AJ, Chief. She's going to need it."
The bedroom door opened and a very groggy figure
appeared. Her bare feet barely made a
sound as she stumbled into the room.
"Well, I wondered what you'd done with my sweatshirt, Chief." Jim tried not to laugh at the sight of AJ wearing his worn Cascade PD sweatshirt. Her small frame was lost in it. The look was only accented by a pair of Blair's old blue sweat pants draping over her feet and nearly hiding them. Between the two borrowed items, she looked like a four or five-year-old, all she needed was a stuffed animal in the crook of her arm to complete the picture.
"I told you, it wasn't me." Blair passed a coffee cup into the hand that appeared from the folds of the sweatshirt. He chuckled as AJ shook her hair out of her face. "You look like Cousin It."
"Who?" She frowned, sipping at the coffee blearily.
"Never mind." He quickly fixed another mug of coffee for himself and grabbed Jim's before following her back out to the living room. He watched silently as she collapsed slowly onto the sofa. She waited for a moment until Brian was sitting next to her and then leaned on him. Blair grinned at the drowsy picture they made, sipping their coffee, obviously not all the way awake.
"AJ?" Jim settled on the edge of the coffee table, poking briefly at the simmering stuff over the brazier. "Why are you mixing this up?"
"Gonna need it." She whispered, pushing her hair behind her ears. "Storm's here. Defenses already breeched, guards down, enemy inside."
"Storm? What storm?" Blair asked, bewildered. The sky was a clear, pale blue through the window. Offering a mug to his sentinel, he settled on the only free seat in the room, a packing crate he hadn't seen before.
"She's not talking about a physical storm, Chief." Jim replied, taking the mug and sipping from it. "You know what happened to the Rovers?"
She nodded. "Ordered them to close down. Someone tried to raid the research database. Ese had already purged the files they wanted though."
"Ese?" Jim shot a look at her. "Who is Ese?"
"Rover S. Ese is Spanish for 's'." She shrugged, eyes closed as she alternately sipped her coffee and answered Jim's quiet questions. "Why?"
"What's his full name?"
"Sage. Samuel Andreas Marshall Johnson."
"We've met him." He growled as Blair choked on his coffee and Brian stiffened in surprise.
The terse words brought her head up, eyes wide with astonishment, adrenaline shocking her fully awake. "When? He never said anything about it."
"This past summer, there was a series of murders." Rafe replied, remembering the case. "Serial killer with a penchant for killing families. He killed a bunch of Johnson's family here in Cascade. He tried for Jim and Blair, too."
"If Sam's missing, what happened to the kids?" Blair asked.
AJ had already grabbed her cell phone and was dialing. "Sarah? It's me again. If you can, call me. I need to know about what happened this summer. Where are the kids?" She hung up and dialed another number. "Cage… found the link over the summer. Ese tell you about an attack on his family?"
Jim dialed up his hearing, and listened to the voice on the other line.
"Yeah. It was pretty bad too. Lost a lot of folks. Are you saying it happened in Cascade? The same Cascade where you are?"
"Yes. Do you have any information on it?" All the sleepiness was gone as she sat up and grabbed her journal.
"All the adults and some of the little ones were killed. You'd have to see about getting the police files. The Rover sites are already down, no way to access them for it. Don't tell me, I can guess, the wall of eyes?" Cage's voice sounded breathless and Jim could hear the sound of many feet breaking out into a jog. "Look, I'm going to see about chartering a flight over to Taipei. That'll cut six days off my travel time. I'll cancel the run to Peru. The team can order the rest of the tribes to safety. That cuts another ten days off my time. Don't do anything stupid before I get there."
"Right. You know me, I won't."
"Kyrie, I'm serious. Even if I shave off as much time as I can, there is no way I can get to Cascade in less than five days. And I don't know if I can get there that fast." There was anger underlying his words. "I've checked the local airbase, Colonel Travis is there. He owes us. Call him and get the hell out of there. Please, kid. It's too dangerous for you."
AJ looked up at Jim and smiled, and the resignation there made him shiver. "He sido consagrada, hermanito. No puedo irme antes del fin de este paso de la luna.[1]" Jim heard the protest as AJ terminated the call but he couldn't understand the words the other man used. She shook her head at him, her eyes shuttered. "If Sarah can she'll call me and tell me how the children are doing."
"What was Cage going on about?" Jim asked soberly.
"Nothing for you to worry about." She replied serenely, stirring the mixture in the porcelain pot. "You wanted information on Rovers? They are the research group behind a lot of my travels. When I'm not working for Abraham and his people, I work with them – guiding parties into areas where few have traveled. It's fun. I've seen and photographed rivers that no one else except the locals had seen. I've met tribes that are still considered 'myths'. When they want researchers to go somewhere, I'm one of the first they call."
"Great. Why doesn't that reassure me?" Jim growled. "Your friends are just another government agency trying to exploit the locals."
"Because you're paranoid?" She shook her head. "Cage works for different news agencies and sometimes the U.S. Government. I act as a guide for people who know how to contact me. Rovers, Inc. does a lot of research on indigenous medical procedures, native cures, legends, lore, and mysteries of all kinds. They contact me a lot because I can usually guide their groups into areas no one else can go. And when I refuse to go, they have always dropped the expedition. The researcher is welcome to try another means to get there, but he or she will lose all backing from Ese's people."
"Sounds like blackmail to me."
AJ glared at him. "I'm not going to argue over it now. I'm too tired and too busy. What else did you want to know?"
"Why close them down?"
"Someone tried to access sealed files. Private research. Things that could be used against other people – whether it's the researcher or the subject doesn't matter to us." Using a pair of tongs she poured the herbal mix into a larger pot and tossed in a bright yellow block. The sentinel pulled away, his nose wrinkling in distaste. She tossed him an unopened leather pouch and he held it close, trying to negate the scent of the stuff she had dropped into the pot. "One of the tenants of the incorporation is that all documented research will be protected. That means closing everything down while security is reconsidered and reevaluated. Once we consider it safe, we'll re-establish the websites and reopen the research venues."
"We?"
AJ blinked and looked at Blair. "I'm a member of long standing. Zel is on the board of directors. Ese is on the board of directors. So are seven other men and women. All of them know how dangerous it could be if some… overzealous group managed to get their hands on the unfinished data."
"And when your research is finished?"
She grinned impishly. "Mine? My research is unending… my personal favorite is the medicinal uses of plants. Not that I get much time for it. Someday, maybe I'll get to analysis, right now I'm just writing stacks of green journals of plants and their uses. Other people, well, Rovers doesn't force them to publish or to hold back from publishing. That's not what we do."
"So, they're closed down. How long until they reopen?" Jim asked guardedly.
"Depends. I'm not on the reevaluation team. Ese is missing. Rage is busy… he won't be available until mid-December at the earliest." She reached for the coffee cup and looked in it. Seeing it was empty she glared before standing and heading for the kitchen. "That's all I know."
Jim nodded, still curious about the conversation she'd had with Cage. But he knew from experience that she wasn't about to discuss it. "I think you need to make sure one of us is with you from now on."
AJ froze, and turned. "I'm fine. Headache's almost gone. And I'm not going anywhere, so there's no need for someone to stay with me."
"AJ!"
"Hidalga!"
"Kyrie!"
At the three men's growls, she raised her hand. "Fine. I yield. But only if it's someone I know."
The men traded silent looks as she ducked into the kitchen for more coffee. They silently agreed that it was too easy. They knew she was planning something.
Major Crimes Bullpen, mid-morning.
"Hey, Chief?" Jim looked up to see if any of the Feds were around. Once he noted they were all hidden in the conference room, he turned back to his phone. As a protective measure, Blair was staying as far from the Feds as the sentinel could keep him. "I've got a question for you. Kyrie told Cage that she'd been made consegrada. Do you know anything about how that's done?"
"I don't think I've read anything about it, Jim." Blair turned away for a moment to point a student in the right direction before turning his attention back to his sentinel. "I mean, Zelinski's journals are the only source I've been able to find and they don't tell me much beyond the hidalgo and sagrado stages. Want me to head to her place and ask?"
"I don't think she's going to talk about it," The detective sighed. A voice calling his name made him look up from the phone and he frowned. "Great, the almighty Feds just summoned me. Gotta go."
Rainier University Apartments, mid morning.
"Good afternoon." Megan Connor strode into the living room with a smile. She was still tickled over the whole relationship issue between Brian Rafe, AJ Fortaleza, Jim Ellison, and Blair Sandburg. As she'd whispered to Henri, watching the four of them maneuver was almost as good as a soap opera.
"Megan?" AJ looked around, bewildered. She had been so immersed in studying Zelinski's journals that she hadn't noticed the trade off between one guard and the other. "Where did Henri go?"
"He had to get back to the station before the Feds realized he was missing." The Australian was trying not to laugh at the younger woman's dismayed reaction. "No worries, mate. None of us are about to let the FBI near this place. Jim and Sandy explained your situation to all of us."
"My situation?" AJ laid her pen down and turned all of her attention on the Inspector. "And what, exactly, is my situation?"
"Well, it's not your fault that you and Cage get confused so much… you're both photographers, know a lot about things the government would prefer was forgotten, and have worked together for years." Still smiling, Megan headed for the kitchen. "So, do you have any coffee around here?"
Casting a quick look at the brazier, the photographer stood and joined her. "None made. Brian says my coffee is terrible and made me promise not to make any more."
"Rafe complained about your coffee?" Megan gasped in amazement. "That boy makes the thickest, blackest, foulest coffee in the office."
"No, he said I could have his 'official' title." AJ grinned wickedly, pulling a container of gourmet coffee from the freezer. "And Brian makes very good coffee."
The older woman laughed, "well, his reputation makes sure he doesn't get stuck with making coffee at the office."
"Yes. He cooks too."
"Does he?" Megan chuckled. "Seems like you're learning all of his secrets."
AJ caught the underlying tone in the inspector's voice and looked up. Megan was carefully measuring the coffee grounds into the filter, studiously keeping her attention on the coffee, but her tense shoulders gave her away. "You are worried about him, like Henri."
"You and Brian are moving awfully fast, AJ." Megan smiled softly, reassuringly. "We don't want either of you to be hurt."
"Megan, I will do anything to protect him." The younger woman dropped all pretense, letting the detective see what she felt. "And that means a lot. I've already passed the word to every contact I have to keep an eye on him and keep him safe."
"That's not what I mean," Megan began.
"You don't understand me. My people don't take this kind of thing lightly – we don't 'play around' as the Americanos put it." She looked down at the floor, scuffing her boots nervously. "If he wants me to stay after all this is over, I will do everything I can to do so. If… if he doesn't ever want to see me again once the Cult is stopped, I disappear. I have obligations to fulfill, but then I will do whatever I can to make him happy, no matter the cost."
"AJ--" Megan protested.
"This discussion is over." AJ smiled sadly and stepped back into the living room. She checked the simmering herbs, knowing that Megan's eyes were still on her. Judging the time to be right, she blew out the tiny fire. Then she rigged the traveling frame around the brazier, fitting the poles into the obsidian base and latching the tiny metal hooks into position. Once the frame was finished, she placed darts, point down, into racks, and lowered them so the first inch was in the still simmering liquid.
"What are you doing?" Megan asked quietly.
"Preparing for war." She replied curtly, returning her attention to the faded words in the journal. After a moments silence, she added, "Don't touch these when they're done – unless you want a fast trip to the hospital."
The Major Crimes Bullpen, 11 A.M.
"Listen Ellison, we want to know where you got this information." Devereaux plastered a fake smile on his face as he confronted the tall detective.
"My sources are confidential. I don't give them away." Jim repeated himself for the fifth or sixth time.
He was getting very tired of the inquisition he was undergoing. "So what new information have you managed to get?"
"We're asking the questions, Detective." Another FBI agent replied. Taking over the interrogation, he sat across from Jim, no smile on his face, just plain determination on it. "We understand you dislike losing the case to us, but you need to cooperate so we can stop the killings."
"I don't see you investigating anything. I just see you going over my notes and drinking coffee." Jim retorted. "Why don't you get off your collective a**** and do some of your own work?"
"We need to talk to Alex. Where is he?" Devereaux jumped back into the fray.
"I don't know anyone named Alex." Jim kept his face impassive as he spoke. He really was beginning to despise Devereaux.
"Look, we understand that Fortaleza has had a hard time, but we need to speak to him. He can help stop the killings."
Jim smiled brightly. "Why didn't you tell me this Alex Fortaleza was your suspect? Give me a description of him and I'll get it to the guys in patrol."
The slight choking gasp of the youngest FBI agent almost made Jim lose his control. The young man was trying very hard not to laugh as he watch the detective foil his superiors and dodge their questions.
"No, no, no. Alex is not a suspect." Devereaux shook his head, trying to catch up. "He's from the mountains of South America, the same place the cult may originate. He's probably the best guide to the people and area to be found. We think he can help us locate the cult."
"Mmmm." Jim nodded, interested in finding out their story. "So he can help? Okay, I'll keep my eyes open."
"Ellison, I need you out here, now." Simon Banks opened the door enough to bellow into the conference room and slammed it shut again.
"Well, I'd better get out there." He smiled apologetically and stood. "So, do you have any pictures or a description of this guy?"
"Not yet. We'll get one to you as soon as we can." Devereaux seemed to believe that the big detective was actually going to help him.
Jim joined the other detectives in the main part of the bullpen, curious about the stern summons. He noticed that Henri and Rafe were checking the fit of their bullet-proof vests and that Rafe had a rifle case on his desk.
"What's happening?"
"Two things. First, Cassie and her escort never made it in to work this morning." Henri replied, pulling on his flack jacket. "Second, there's a hostage situation on First Ave."
"You've got the hostage situation." Jim nodded to the rifle Rafe was checking over.
"Mark's down with the flu and Paul broke his wrist last night." Brian replied, placing the weapon back in its case. "That means I'm on call."
"And I'm his partner, so I go too." Henri responded to the arched eyebrow.
"Good luck." Jim was sincere, even if it meant he was stuck finding out where Cassie and her two police guards had gone. The slight whiff of flowery perfume told him who was next to him. "You're my partner for the afternoon, Cath?"
The ex-Marine smiled. "We figured that Cassie might need a lady who's seen just about everything."
He nodded grimly. Yep, if Cassie was still alive, she was going to need someone to put her back together.
Cascade Heights Apartments, just a few minutes later.
Jim shuddered as he looked around the remains of Cassie Welles apartment. The sheer amount of blood was nearly overwhelming. He staggered out into the hallway, Catherine Grayson, strong-stomached Marine that she was, right behind him.
The sentinel pulled out his cell phone and dialed the precinct. "Simon? We need a clean-up crew, the coroners, and a lot of help. Yeah, it's bad. Real bad."
"I don't think I've ever seen such –" The coal black eyes of the other detective were horrified.
"I think she made someone very angry." He replied. He dialed another number. "Sandburg? Anything unusual at the museum today? I want you to get everyone out of there. I don't care how. Then get to AJ's and stay with her and Megan."
"You think they took her there?" Catherine asked, leaning against the doorframe to regain her balance. She looked down at her shoes and shuddered at the red stain they left on the doormat.
"I don't think so, but just in case."
"Why do the Feds want your sister?" There was no accusation in her eyes, just a calm curiosity. She, like the rest of Major Crimes, was ignoring the rumors and bits of information they heard and denying all knowledge about the Fortaleza the FBI agents were hunting so diligently.
"They've been stonewalling. AJ's one of the few people who have seen this group in action and survived." Jim shrugged uneasily. "She's breaking the rules by talking about it, even if she doesn't give us any real information about the group. Just telling us how to locate the cult is technically illegal."
Catherine nodded. "And the bureaucrats want her in the slammer for opening her mouth."
"You got it."
"Is she a target?"
"If the cult realizes who she is – she's their ultimate goal." He looked over at the tall, dark-skinned woman, letting her see his worry. "She would literally walk over to their altars to keep us out of the fray if she could. I'm trying to keep her under wraps so she can help us find their leader."
"If we stop him, we stop the killings?"
"That's the idea."
"All right." Catherine smiled. "I'll keep quiet. Add me to the bodyguard roster."
"Thanks." Jim replied. He had worried about her reaction to the obvious deception. Catherine had been a lifer, twenty years in the Marine Corps. The death of her husband, leaving her a single mother of two teenagers, had given her the impetus to leave. A career in the Cascade PD, with good local schools, a decent university, easy access to the larger cities of Seattle and Tacoma, and affordable housing had seemed a godsend to the ex-Marine. She was still trying to fit in with the rest of the department, but slowly it was all settling into place. And her acceptance of Jim's need to protect both his guide and his 'sister' was just another piece cementing her to the group.
Rainier University Housing, 1 P.M.
With a final glare at the notes, AJ straightened. She glanced at the rows of drying darts and nodded to herself, satisfied. For the past two hours, she had worked had at deciphering her guardian's notes to little avail, intent on ignoring the Australian. After realizing how upset she had made the younger woman, Megan had quietly stationed herself between the door and the researcher, a book in her hand and her pistol in her lap.
"Are you still angry?" The soft words were an entreaty. Megan had not intended to cause the other woman any pain.
"No." AJ looked over at her and smiled softly. "You protect your friend. I protect my love. We do the same thing, we are not enemies – allies I think."
"Friends." Megan answered the unspoken question. "So what do you plan on doing for the rest of the afternoon?"
"Do you like pictures? I've done as much as I can here. When I'm finished I'll give my notes to Jim and he can pass the useful parts to Major Crimes." She stretched stiffly and began piling the journals and books into two groups. It only took a moment and the disarray that had covered the coffee table, sofa, and rug around her was gone. Standing, she took books from a stack and started shelving them. "I haven't had time to sort my photos in quite a while."
"Sounds like a plan. Want some help with that?" Megan dropped her book into her shoulder bag and holstered the pistol at the small of her back. She stood and picked up the rest of the stack.
"Thank you." AJ took the offered books with a grimace. "I should have remembered to work at the big table."
"We aren't going to be working at the coffee table, are we?" Megan asked with a frown. She really didn't want to curl up on the floor – not after seeing the pained movements the younger woman was making.
"No." She shuddered, putting the last book away. "Could you pour me some more coffee? I'll get the photos."
Megan poured the coffee and placed it on the kitchen table. She could feel her eyebrows rise at the pile of unmarked, white envelopes and photograph boxes. The photographer grinned sheepishly as she set down another box.
"Are these all the photographs you've taken?"
"Most of them." AJ blushed at the startled look she received. "I take a lot of pictures – on a slow day, I think I took three rolls. Yesterday, at the museum, I shot fifteen rolls before eleven a.m."
"Oh, my." The inspector took a sip of her coffee. "And these are the ones you haven't had time to sort?"
"Some I already sorted and wrote up. The stuff in these boxes is finished." She gestured at the majority of the boxes. "The stuff in the envelopes I have to check -- see if it's worth keeping. The film in this box, I haven't developed."
"How do you keep track of it?"
"Every canister I shoot, I label. I keep a notebook of where, when, what I photograph. When I develop the film, I write the code on the negatives, the pictures, and on the contact sheets. Then when I get home, I move the contact sheets to the notebook. I just have to match the notes to the photos and choose the shots I think I can use. Those I develop into pictures. Sometimes, the pictures don't look like I expect and I have to choose others. Sometimes I don't find anything I like." AJ grinned at Megan's expression. "I have to be organized – I shoot too much not to be."
"And Blair complains that Jim is too organized for normal humans." Megan murmured under her breath as the photographer began spreading out the oversized contact sheets. Each sheet contained miniature copies of all the photos for a roll of film. The Australian quit complaining as she was drawn into sorting and cataloging the other woman's pictures of Cascade.
When Blair arrived, he quickly became enmeshed in their work, enjoying the unusual activity. He had not seen her working with her photographs since the day she'd handed him Cage's photo of Major Crimes in action. The sheer amount of her own work she had left undone so she could spend time on the exhibit or tracking down the cult amazed him. Every place she visited was photographed, whether on campus or off, many in detail. Everything that caught her eye, no matter how mundane or bizarre, she photographed for later study.
"How many rolls of film have you developed?" Blair asked curiously, matching a set of photographs of the Octoberfest to the note page.
"Depends on the day." AJ was staring at a photograph, eying the crowded scene with a frown. She worried at her lower lip, trying to figure out what bothered her about the picture. "I tried, at least when I first got here, to develop all the film from one day during my class. Used my film to show the students different techniques."
"Why don't you still do that?" Megan put down the contact sheet she was studying to watch her. The photographer was shuffling between several pictures, all crowd scenes but none from the same location.
"Too many rolls of film some days. Not enough on others." She kept finding the same face. It had to be a coincidence. AJ picked up her notebook and removed the pages whose serial numbers matched the photos in her hand. Checking the dates and locations, she frowned even more.
Ignoring the confused expressions on Megan and Blair's faces, AJ closed her eyes. Still worrying her lip and ignoring the two people watching her, she thought back, trying to match the odd face to her memory. Yes, she had definitely seen him a lot lately. Almost too much. No, she had definitely seen him too many times for it to be a coincidence. She pulled a contact sheet from the stack in front of Megan, searching for a good shot of the man. Locating it, she looked up the picture number and found an 8x10 of it. She placed it in front of Blair. "Do you know him?"
"No." Blair responded after a moment's study of the face. "Why?"
"Give me some time to think about this." AJ quickly began pulling random photographs from the boxes, placing them face down on the table. Once she had taken pictures from every box, she did the same with the photographs from the remaining envelopes. Then she started over going from the boxes to the envelopes, until all the free space on the table was covered. Her mind was racing as she worked, hoping she was wrong.
The first photograph she turned over was a photograph taken during the Cascade Halloween parade. The shot was taken from the Waterfront Plaza, it wasn't a crowd shot – just a simple picture of people readying the their floats for the parade. There, in the corner of the photo, facing the camera, was her mystery man.
She scanned the photos, her eyes moving from one to another quickly. He was only in five pictures from the random grouping. She quickly juggled the numbers, trying to figure out the percentages, the chance it would be for this to be coincidence. If it was coincidence, why was her skin crawling?
AJ stared at her photographs. As she scanned them, she noticed that every so often, familiar faces were appearing. At first, she thought they must be students she saw regularly, maybe in the photo lab or one of the anthro lectures she had assisted. Then it hit her, they were appearing only on the fringes of the shots and she had never met them.
She frowned and automatically began resorting the pictures. She sorted them by the day each was taken. Then she sorted each by the time and place where they were shot. Then she removed a picture from each and every group missed by her original random pull of pictures, filing the new pictures into the piles until every roll of film developed was represented. A glance through the first two piles of photos, the one from her first venture into Cascade, showed her the truth.
The photographer in her could not believe she had missed something so obvious. She pulled open the box of contact sheets and her magnifying glass, confirming to herself that she was definitely under surveillance. The anthropologist in her noted that the city was not her normal venue and excused her for missing the people watching her every move. The part of her trained to be sagrada, to protect her people only raised an eyebrow in understanding. None of her people would blame her. Cascade was not her territory, nor had she been made part of the local tribe until just recently. She still blamed herself, though.
She had marked those areas where she knew people – the University she had surrounded by her markers, protecting the grounds themselves, the buildings where Jim, Blair, and Brian lived and worked, and with great difficulty the Capítan's house on the other side of Cascade. She had made it a sacrilege for anyone to be forcibly taken from those places. But the rest of Cascade was an open hunting range, and its citizens, for the most part, did not know they were being hunted. She had failed them by being too many steps behind the cult leader's and being unable to catch up to him.
AJ stood, going over to the bookshelves. Around her she could hear the soft sound of conversation. She had silently noted Enqueri's arrival. Her curt headshake had irritated the sentinel, but he had subsided, joining his guide and Megan, talking softly and watching her work. She pulled out a slim journal of bound graph paper, made certain it was blank, and carried it back to the table.
There she took the first photo from the very first pile and began writing. Using the shorthand symbols Zel and her tutors had painstakingly taught her, she quickly noted dates, times, places, and descriptions. The graph that came into to light under her pen was frightening. The only place she found no signs of surveillance was on campus. But then again, she rarely took pictures there. She usually only took shots of things that caught her interest. She may well be under surveillance on campus as well, and not have noticed due to the large number of people around her at any one time.
Carefully gathering the best shots of the people following her, she turned to the group by the window. She froze, seeing for the first time the brown and gray lynx pacing around the room. At its low rumbling cough, she recognized it. I am not supposed to be able to see my own guide! Not yet! I am not ready for this! Her mind wailed and flames flickered in the edges of her vision. AJ firmly pushed the vision away, sidestepping the lynx, and headed over to Jim.
Jim had been as patient as he knew how to be. From the moment he stepped inside AJ's apartment, he had known something had gone very wrong. The tense, sharp movements of the photographer as she worked meant trouble. He let his gaze move from the stacks of photographs she was sorting over to his guide. "What happened?"
"She noticed something, or someone, in a photograph." Megan answered. "Sandy didn't know the man and neither did she."
"I thought he was one of her students the first time I saw him." Blair handed a picture to Jim. He pointed to the man in question. "I mean, while we were sorting them for her, I'd seen him a couple of times. I guess she thought he was someone I told to keep an eye on her."
"So, she's being watched?" The ex-Ranger frowned, committing the face to memory. From the looks of the crowd, the man was about average – maybe 5'11", 175lbs, brown hair, light colored eyes. Nothing about him really stood out, he was the perfect surveillance man. "How long?"
Blair shrugged. "Don't know."
"We can look up the date of the picture," Megan spoke softly, her eyes on the photographer. "But right now, she's kind of busy with the notes."
They watched as she bowed her head and the sentinel heard the quiet words she whispered. He didn't think AJ even knew she had spoken aloud and he was not about to repeat her words to the others. Hearing her blame herself for missing the surveillance wasn't something the others needed to hear.
"So why did you order me to get everyone out of the exhibition hall?" Blair asked, distracting Jim from AJ's movements.
"Cassie's missing, Chief." He didn't know how to sugarcoat the words. He watched as Blair winced, his face paling. "We're searching the museum from top to bottom, just in case the cult used it again."
"Did the cult get her?" The anxious blue eyes cut into the sentinel, making him wish he could tell his guide something different. Instead he only nodded. "Oh, man. What about the officer who was protecting her?"
"We don't know, yet."
"Why are they doing this?" Blair's voice cracked. "I mean, I understand why people did this kind of thing a long time ago. They really believed in their gods and their rituals – but this… it's wrong. Someone mixed together a hodgepodge of different gods and rituals and only the violent ones."
"We'll catch them." Megan's voice was firm but her face was troubled. She had been one of the few people who actually got along with Cassie most of the time. "We will get them and make it all stop."
Before Jim could reply to the Inspector's comment, he noticed AJ was standing, heading for them. She paused briefly, eyes widening as she noted the lynx pacing nearby. At its growl, she sidestepped it and moved to Jim's side. She dropped the journal onto the coffee table in front of him. He opened it, studying the graph she had made.
"Looks like a rotating schedule?" The sentinel let his eyes follow the graph, noting the pattern.
"Yes." She placed the photographs along the top of the graph. Each contained a crowd scene with a single face circled. A mark matching one of the ones on the graph identified the faces. Jim quickly began sorting them in his mind.
"They set it up to be hard to notice." He mused, seeing the wide spread of times and locations. "You take a set of scanning shots every time you shoot?"
"No. Just sometimes." AJ replied. "When I feel like it might be needed."
"And when you went out for the information you put on the maps, did you feel you needed to take a set of scanning shots?" He asked quietly, focusing on her heartbeat. "Or did you leave your camera at home?"
"I took my camera with me, I always take it with me. But I rarely felt like I needed to take a scanning set at night." There was a wry smile on her face. "Most of the time I left long into the night – and few can keep up with me on foot. I would have noticed them if they had tried."
"On foot? You mean you've been running around Cascade at night, on foot?" Megan shook her head. "And Rafe hasn't tried to stop you?"
Jim shook his head at Megan's comment. "He didn't know about the excursions until Friday, did he, Kitten?"
"No." The unrepentant tone told them Rafe hadn't liked finding out either.
"I'd better get this to Simon." Jim stood, tucking the photos into the journal. "I don't want you alone, not even for a few minutes."
"They aren't after me, not yet." Fortaleza picked up several folders filled with notes that were stacked on the end of the table. "These have everything I could find in public sources that might help you."
"I don't want them to break whatever tradition they're following just because we left you unguarded. Simon and Brian agree with me." He looked down at her, seeing the frustration in her green eyes and frowning. "We're not trapping you, there are no cages, no chains. We just want you to be safe."
After a moment, she nodded. "Brian was working with the S.W.A.T. unit. He might be a little late. Megan, think you can make it until then?"
"Yes." Megan smiled. "I've been enjoying the day. AJ is pretty interesting to be around."
AJ shook her head at the comment. She looked at Blair and then at the crate half hidden by the racks of drying darts. "Is Blair going to the station with you?"
"No. I'm keeping him as far away from the Feds as I can." Jim grinned as Blair rolled his eyes and tried to protest that he wasn't afraid of the FBI.
"Take it as a blessing in disguise, Sandy." Megan chuckled. "This way you have an excuse to stay as far away from those cretins as possible."
"Do you need him to stay here?"
"Not really." Fortaleza replied. She carefully began moving the drying racks, nimbly placing them out of her way. She opened the crate and shoved packing material out of her way. At the bottom of the crate was a much smaller, very battered, wooden box. Sealed shut with nails that were bent in and around the edges of the crate and cracked red wax, it was obvious someone had tried to open it but failed. "I'm sorry this took so long to arrive. I sent for it a long time ago. It arrived yesterday."
Jim stared at the box in shock. He recognized the markings burned into the wood. "That's mine."
AJ smiled and nodded. "Incacha told me I would need to give this to you when I found you. As soon as I found you I sent for it. He said he sealed it when it had everything you needed in the Great City."
"When was that?" Blair's whispered question made her look at him.
"Sometime in 1995, I think." She shrugged. "I don't really know. He sent for me right before he left the Chopec and told me to keep it safe. It was sealed then. I've managed to keep it from being opened since."
Jim reached for the box, knowing that it wasn't really for him. He vaguely remembered when Incacha had started working on the box, carving it out of a single piece of wood. The box was intended for his guide, so he handed it to Blair. "Take this to the loft for me?"
His guide nodded, not realizing exactly what Jim was handing him. To him it represented a piece of Jim's life, one of the pieces he rarely talked about. The fact that the sentinel was handing it to him was a major trust. "I'll take good care of it."
Megan raised her eyebrows, watching the two of them and wondering exactly what was going on. If it had something to do with the sentinel thing, she wanted to know what it was. But if it was only about Jim's private life, she could let it go. She looked up in time to see Fortaleza staring at her, eyes narrowing and growing flint hard. She shook her head at the younger woman. She'd ask later – when they were nowhere near the photographer.
"I'll call if we get any news." Jim spoke again, catching AJ's attention. "Promise to stay with Connor?"
AJ frowned and nodded, very reluctantly. She could wait here and work on other things. She looked around, absently noting that the lynx was still roaming through the room. She needed to research it anyway. She didn't know much about that particular spirit guide. She could do that now, while waiting for Brian.
"Thanks, Megs." Blair grinned at the Australian, as Megan agreed to stay with Fortaleza. They all had noticed she still seemed distracted. "She gets pretty intense when she's researching stuff."
"I noticed." The Inspector grinned, then she sobered abruptly. "That makes her vulnerable, though."
"Yeah, we know." He replied before following Jim out of the apartment. He cradled Jim's box in his arms, still wondering what might be inside it. He also wondered who had tried to take it away from AJ, and why.
"When you get home, I want you to lock the doors and wait for me." Jim nodded to the box. "It will be safest in your room, with your stuff."
Blair blinked, clattering down the stairs behind his sentinel. "Are you sure?"
"I want to be there when you open it, but I don't think it should just be lying around until then." He gave his guide a small grin. "And that thing would drive me crazy if you put it in my room."
"Jim?" He looked at his sentinel a little shocked, as he came to a stop beside his Volvo. "What is it?"
"Incacha made it for my guide – that's you, Chief." He looked at the files in his arms. "Look, I've got to get this stuff to Simon. We'll talk about the box when I get home."
Before the shocked anthropologist could reply, Jim had climbed into his truck and was driving away. Still reeling in shock from Jim's words, Blair unlocked his car and climbed inside. He wasn't fully conscious of the drive back to the loft. In fact, when he got home, he realized, he didn't even remember starting the car.
[1]He sido consagrado, hermanito No puedo irme antes del fin de este paso de la luna. I've been blessed, little brother. I can't leave until the end of this moon's passing.
