The Angry Flame

By Divamercury

Chapter 15

It was the Witchblade that finally awakened me hours later, not people or pain. It hummed with worry and panic, waiting to know about the fate of its Wielder. I barely moved my shoulder, my eyes still closed, and instantly regretted it. The searing pain was still there and seemed many times worse, feeling as though it were on fire. I groaned quietly. My hearing returned next. Apparently Jake and Ciara were in the room with me, wherever that was, and they were speaking in hurried whispers about nothing that I could hope to fathom.

I decided to please the masses and actually wake up. I slowly opened my eyes, the lids of which seemed heavier than lead, and squinted at the sudden introduction to the bright fluorescent lights of the room. My eyes gradually focused and I studied my surroundings. I was in a pallid white room: a room in St. Vincent's Hospital in Manhattan. I shifted a bit in my bed, causing the gurney to creak and Ciara and Jake's heads to whip around. Seconds later they swooped down on me:

"Sara!"

"Pez!"

"You're awake!"

"How are you feeling?"

"Does your shoulder hurt?"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down. I might look awake but my brain is still struggling somewhere around Sara!' So you guys might just have to take it one question at a time."

"Are you okay? We thought—" Jake didn't want to finish, so Ciara did for him.

"—We were really afraid that we'd lost you."

"Did you guys bag East?" I asked weakly.

Jake nodded cheerfully. "Yeah. When you went down I ran over to you, but I was the one holding East and he thought he could escape. Unfortunately the uniforms didn't agree with him, and he ended up at the bottom of an approximately 600-pound dogpile. Needless to say, he's very uncomfortable right now, in a cell so deep that the sun doesn't shine that low."

I smiled feebly at his choice of words. "At least there's that."

"And I'm going to testify and make sure that that slimeball doesn't ever get out of jail," Ciara said eagerly.

Just then the nurse entered and grasped Jake and Ciara by the wrists.

"I'm sorry, but there are other people waiting to see Ms. Pezzini and there isn't much time left in the visitation hour. I'm afraid you two will need to leave."

"Bye, you two. You're not rid of me yet," I said, giving them a brighter smile as they left.

"Nurse?" I asked when they were gone. "What happened to me? I mean, what did the doctors have to do?"

"Well, Ms. Pezzini—"

"—Please, just call me Sara."

"Oh. Okay, well, Sara, you were in pretty bad shape when you got here. You've lost a lot of blood, so you might be feeling somewhat anemic for a while. Also, the bullet didn't exit your wound, so they had to go in and take it out. But that's all I know. Oh, your next visitor is waiting. I'll bring him in."

I don't know whom it was that I was expecting, but I certainly wasn't expecting the man that showed up at my bedside.

"Lady Sara! Are you all right?" Ian Nottingham was standing beside me.

"Please, nurse, a few moments alone," I asked. If we started discussing the Witchblade, then things would get very weird very fast. She nodded and left, shutting the door behind her with a sharp click.

Ian looked at me sadly. "I have failed you, Lady Sara. I apologize. You should not be suffering."

"What, would you rather be lying here? Don't be ridiculous, Ian, there was nothing you could have done. You weren't there."

"But I should have been there," he said vehemently. "I should have been there to protect you. That is my destiny."

"What?" I asked, thoroughly confused.

Confusion tolerance, Sara, remember the confusion tolerance,' I thought.

Hearing the nurse's footsteps clacking up the hall towards my room, Ian replied, " In due time, Lady Sara. In due time."

The nurse, as anticipated, entered the room and escorted Ian away.

"I will return to see you," he said as he was being led out. I nodded a bit too vigorously and instantly regretted it. I reclined against the pillows behind me and tried desperately to find something to amuse myself with. This was much easier said than done, for there was nothing in the room, not even a crack in the wall nor a chip in the paint that was obvious enough for me to fix upon and entertain myself with. I was in the deepest depths of boredom by this time, and there was nothing for me to do but sleep and dread the hospital food that would inevitably be brought to me soon.

I was in the hospital for another week before I was released. Many of the only bright spots of the week were Ian's visits, which cheered me more than I believed possible. Weeks earlier I would never have believed that I would be growing fond of Ian Nottingham, assassin and Kenneth Irons's right hand man, if someone told me that I would be, but I truly was. They must have been especially concerned about me for some reason, and after enduring the incredibly unappetizing hospital food for the week, they released me. The wound had a bit of residual pain and stiffness left, but that was enough to be irritating. It was more difficult to use my arm than it had been before, and that was frustrating as well. The bullet had probably done some internal ligament or tendon damage and it hurt like nobody's business. But, being the independent person I was, I managed and refused help from everyone.

Arriving back at my apartment that day, I didn't realize how glad I was to be home. I had a little cleaning to do, especially since I had been lying on the floor bleeding for some time, but other than that everything was just how I'd left it. Now all I had to do was wait for Ian to give his mysterious speech to me, the one he had been doing everything to avoid.