The Angry Flame
By Divamercury
This is my favorite chapter, personally. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Chapter 11
I walked back towards my apartment without putting a lot of thought into where I was going. This would turn out to be a big mistake. Absentmindedly I went in a different direction than I normally took and by chance passed by a wide alley roped off by crime scene tape. I stared at it for a moment and then realized where I was.
I was right beside the area where the three dancers from the club had each been found, dead.
As I stood there, staring at the scene like an idiot, the Witchblade buzzed in a frantic warning. Unfortunately it came about a split second too late. Two strong hands clamped down on my back and pushed me, causing me to lurch forward. I fell into the strips of crime scene tape, feeling them rip apart under my weight, and I landed hard against the cobblestone-like pavement of the alley. Slightly stunned, I remained there for a few moments, and then my attacker (who was incredibly heavy, I realized) took advantage of my senselessness and pinned me down to the pavement even more. He then basically sat on me, really wanting me to stay in one place and I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck as he leaned closer to me.
"Hello, Overdrive," he said in a hoarse, obviously disguised voice.
Instantly I realized that the person sitting on me was the murderer I had been after, and that I was now his target.
"We'll have some fun, you and I," he continued, stroking my cheek for emphasis, and I winced both at that thought and the fact that he was cutting off the circulation to my left arm. Thankfully it wasn't my right, because my counterpart with a great potential for damage was on the right arm. Slowly I tried to maneuver my fingers to reach the gun at my waist, but his grip was too tight and I failed to grasp it by mere inches. He kept babbling on incomprehensibly, meanwhile I persisted in trying to find a way to reach one of my three weapons and finally decided on using the most supernatural of the three. I willed it to appear, and it obeyed with a soft swish of sliding metal, which caught my attacker off guard. I extended the blade and barely nicked him with it but did enough for him to let go of that arm. I wrenched my left arm free and urged the right with the Witchblade and its business end backward at his chest, causing him to spring up off of me. I rolled onto my back and sprang up before he could pin me again. I wasn't about to be victim number five.
"Well, guess you thought you'd have an easy time with me, huh, ace? Well, think again. You've messed with the wrong girl," I said. Although his face was obscured by the night and by some sort of mask or facial covering, I could tell he was frightened by the gauntlet on my arm.
"Next time you bother me, you won't be getting off so easily," I said, withdrawing the blade but keeping the gauntlet out and brandishing it at him. The guy bolted, and I, standing stationary, exhaled.
Great job, Sara. I think I can manage on my own.' Yeah, right. If Ian had been here, there would have been no earthly way that guy would have attacked me." I returned the Witchblade to its bracelet form and exited the alley.
As I stepped out, dusting myself off, I heard the report of a gun and looked to my left. Time slowed down as the bullet, discharged from the gun of my attacker (which he must have forgotten about in the alley—how thick could he be?), sped straight for me. And then, for the second time that day, someone sprang at me and we both went flying. I landed flat on my back and looked up at the second person that had tackled me that day. It was Ian. We both heard the footsteps of the assailant die away as he ran for his life.
"Are you all right, Lady Sara?" he inquired.
"Yeah, if you call having been tackled twice, pinned against your will, and threatened with things unimaginable all right. And I thought I told you to stop calling me that," I said.
He shrugged. "Old habits die hard."
I smiled. "I think I'm okay," I said.
"You're fine, considering the alternative."
"A gruesome, painful death?"
"Precisely."
"Right. Um, Ian?" I asked.
"Yes?" he responded.
"You can get off of me now," I said as gently as possible.
He blushed scarlet and instantly leapt up, offering me a gloved hand and pulling me to my feet.
"Thanks, Ian. You saved my life."
"Anything for you, Lady Sara."
At that moment Ian was the quintessence of chivalry, a modern-day knight that was dedicated to protecting me, his lady, alone. That was kind of an interesting thought. Suddenly his reverent title didn't seem to bother me anymore.
"I should have let you walk me home to begin with," I said with a smile. Ian colored again. I stifled a laugh at his discomfort. His naiveté was sometimes very surprising because of how well trained he was in most areas. Unfortunately, dealing with women wasn't really his forte because normally it wasn't included in his duties. But at least he tried.
Ian insisted on accompanying me home, and I didn't resist his offer. The trip was funny because he kept sneaking looks at me as we were walking as if he wasn't supposed to. When I caught him, he blushed again and then stared down at the pavement until I wasn't looking and then he started watching me again. That made me start laughing and then he started laughing, which was really odd, and then people just stared at us like we were out of our minds, which wasn't really all that far from the truth.
We arrived at my building.
"Are you sure you'll be all right, Lady Sara?" Ian asked, concerned.
"I'll be fine. I promise. Well, I'll see you later, Ian, and thank you so much for saving my life," I said, scolding myself because the farewell was so inadequate. It was then that I noticed a perfectly round mark of moisture on his coat over his left shoulder.
