The Angry Flame

By Divamercury

Are you intrigued yet? If not, then read Chapter 9 and then decide! :)

Chapter 9

At quitting time that day I gathered up some new reports with developments in the Oakland case and put them in a small leather briefcase I kept lying around. I used it to take reports back and forth from work when riding my motorcycle most of the time. I found out too many times that no matter how hard I tried, I had problems with holding onto all of them when riding in an unenclosed vehicle that was traveling at least 50 miles per hour, so I came up with the system.

I made it home in fifteen minutes and entered the building slowly. No matter how much I wanted to make it to my apartment, I just didn't feel like expending that much energy at once, so I took it slowly.

One step at a time,' I couldn't help thinking, and finally after what seemed like years I reached the door to my apartment. I opened it and glared disdainfully at the flight of stairs in front of me.

More stairs,' I grumbled to myself. I climbed them as well and walked out into the middle of the main room of my apartment. I was glad to be home. I dropped the briefcase on my desk as I passed it and walked to the window, staring out through the almost-dusk at New York City and at Manhattan in the distance. After taking a brief survey of the apartment, making sure I didn't have any unexpected "guests," I sat down at my desk and tried to pore over the reports. I wanted to finish up this case and find the murderer so I could pull out of the Angry Flame. But did I really want to? That lead to another mystery.

Part of me cringed every time I went near that building, because of what went on in there. To tell the truth, the Angry Flame was cleaner than most of the places of its kind that I had heard about. Even so, it was still a club of that kind. Yet part of me felt strangely satisfied when I was up there. The feeling, the euphoria that crept over me, it was frightening and yet I looked forward to it each time I climbed up on that runway. And that was what scared me.

I shook the thoughts from my head. I'd have to leave eventually, so why worry about it? I again tried to focus on the reports but found myself starting to doze. Before I realized it, sleep had overcome me and the last thing I remembered was laying my head on the desk.

I found myself standing in the middle of a green, grassy field. Well, it must have been green and grassy at one point, but as I looked at it all I could see were fallen soldiers and blood everywhere, as far as my sight reached. Various swords and weapons were strewn haphazardly across the battlefield, most belonging to the slain or wounded. I stared down at myself, looking at my silver armor that seemed to be impervious to everything, still almost spotless. Then I looked at the survivors of this great battle, the remnants of my army, I realized. They formed a circle around me. At that close proximity I could clearly see how ragged and disheveled they were, their once-gleaming armor now tarnished, dented, and bloodstained.

"O Cathain, great goddess of war, what must we do? How can we triumph?" they asked me.

I discovered that I knew what to say.

"Follow my lead, noble soldiers, and I shall lead you to victory!" I shouted, then was deafened by the cries and yells of the men. I glanced sideways at my best friend, my partner in all things, my loverand he nodded. Together, screaming our battle cry, we lead the charge against the mass of enemy soldiers. Swinging their enormous broadswords, the battle was on. The Witchblade, in gauntlet form, was in place, at my right wrist, and its own sword showed no mercy to my adversaries. The battle was won. We watched as the frightened remnants of their army scattered to the four winds.

I woke from my unusual dream an hour later. By this time I was really confused.

"Hey, Pez," a voice said at my left. I jumped, and the voice laughed.

"Danny! Jeez, are you just trying to make me have a heart attack and join you on that side of the grave?" I asked angrily, for he had just appeared out of nowhere, as was his custom. Another of the Witchblade's perks was that I could see and hear him. Unfortunately, talking to him in certain places was not wise, because people thought I was a lunatic since they couldn't see whom it was that I was addressing.

"Sorry, Pez, but this side's not ready for you yet. Believe me," he said. I smiled.

"So, how's the afterlife?"

"Pretty slow right now. Just thought I'd check in, but you were asleep, so I waited. Not like I had anything else to do."

"Right. Well, did you happen to see the dream?" I asked.

"Not really. A few parts, but nothing helpful," he said. I filled him in on all the interesting details.

"So do you have any idea what it was about?" I asked him. "What it could mean?"

"Umm" he said, not wanting to say what I knew he was going to say.

"Let me guess. You can't tell me?"

Silence.

"That's what I thought. You know, Danny, seeing you is great, but you're not much help on these things," I said, hitting my head on the desk in frustration and letting it stay there. "I wish that there was some way that I could actually get a straight answer from someone when I asked a question, not all these cryptic messages that mean nothing when I hear them and then I figure them out when it's almost too late."

"All I can say is that it was probably a memory from a past life or something. Gotta go, Pez. See you," he said, and vanished.

"Thanks a lot," I muttered into the cherry wood. Normally hearing that my vision was a carryover from another Wielder wouldn't bother me, but this time it did. It bothered me a lot, in fact. And there was one, simple, tiny, almost insignificant, extremely unusual, and slightly disturbing reason why

The face of my ally in battle, my friend, my partner, my lover in the dream unmistakably belonged to Ian Nottingham.