The Angry Flame

By Divamercury

Chapter 17

For the longest time I had wondered if he had had problems with his legs, but apparently he just preferred to sit. He came over to me, and I felt nervous. I realized that at this proximity, Irons scared me. I backed up a little, but he closed the distance between us.

"Sara, each Wielder has had a powerful protector, a guardian through all adversity. Sometimes it went so far that the pair became close in other ways," he said, and mentally I shivered. I never wanted to be that close to him.

"But I digress. So, you are a Wielder. Who is your protector, Sara?"

"I don't know anyone that fits that description," I said bluntly, speaking the truth.

"Oh, I think you do, Sara. Who provides you with information about the Witchblade? Who has also worn the Blade and felt–and still feels–what you feel?"

If he felt what I was feeling at that moment, he didn't let on. Total disgust was running through my veins.

"I am that man to you, Sara. It has been that way throughout history."

"Really? That's interesting, Irons. But the truth is that I thought you had to love someone you were that close to, and you don't exactly give off love vibes."

He came closer to me, apparently trying to touch my face.

Not bloody likely.

The Witchblade appeared in its gauntlet form and came between him and me.

"Try it and you'll wish you hadn't," I said, elongating the blade enough so it barely touched Irons's hand. He withdrew this extremity quickly and looked at me in disbelief.

"You know, as much as I enjoy these little chats of ours, I have to say that I have much better things to do, so if you'll excuse us–"

The "us" was very pointed, implying the Witchblade and myself.

Irons returned to his chair in defeat, and I was surprised to find that he didn't have some biting parting statement on the tip of his tongue. I turned and left out the front door of the building, having entered through the side. I left the scene as quickly as possible, barely believing what had just happened. I needed a showerbadly. I felt filthy at the thought at how close that man had been to me.

After the longest shower I had ever taken, I dried my hair and got dressed in sweats, prepared for bed when the time came. I curled up with a book, my back facing the windows. When I had been stationary, fully absorbed in the mystery I was reading, for an hour, my lamp suddenly went out. The light of the full moon streamed in from behind me, bathing the room in its pearly glow.

"What the hell? How could I have blown a fuse with just a lamp?" I asked myself. I couldn't have, I realized, and I hadn't done so. The clock on my microwave in the kitchen was still on. I realized that the lamp must have had some help. My hand instinctively reached for the gun behind the throw pillow of my couch, but then I realized who it had to be.

"Where are you, Ian?" I asked. My dark knight emerged from the shadows on the opposite end of the couch, directly beside my lamp.

"I apologize for disturbing you, Lady Sara, but it was a matter of grave importance that brought me here tonight. I simply must speak to you."

"Well, sure. Go ahead," I said, standing up and not bothering to turn on another light. I walked across the room to put my book away and Ian appeared in front of me.

"What was Irons talking to you about earlier?" he said almost fiercely, coming close to me.

"He was talking about being my protector or something," I said.

Ian's look that responded to my statement disturbed me.

"Did he kiss you?" he asked me.

"No. He tried to do something, but the Witchblade didn't like it. It told him to look but not touch," I said.

This time Ian looked like he was trying very hard not to sing.

"The Witchblade didn't accept him?" he asked, slightly incredulously.

"If it had been a snake then it would have bitten him and enjoyed itself immensely," I said.

Ian said nothing for a time. When he found his voice, he said, "He was lying, you know. About being your protector. It is another that protects you."

"I figured that. Well, wish he'd make his presence known," I said with a sigh. Ian stared down at the floor, masking his expression in the shadows of the dark room.

"Well, I'd best be going, Lady Sara. I just wanted to make sure you hadn't accepted him." He walked toward the window and was about to climb out when I spoke up.

"Did you think I would?" I asked him. He stopped and turned to face me.

"Wielders in the past have been fooled by him, Sara. True Wielders could not discern the fact that he was inherently evil. I was afraid" he trailed off.

"Afraid of what? That I might not be a true Wielder? That I wouldn't be able to see through him? Ian, please, I thought you knew me better than that. I knew he couldn't be trusted from the first moment was in the same room with him. Trust me on this, I won't let him get the Witchbladeor me, either. I know he isn't what he wants me to think he is: a helpful benefactor for me. Ha. He'd help me all right, help me right into an early grave." I stood up and went over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I appreciate your concern, Ian. I really do."

"I really must go," he said, even though the look in his eyes told me that that was the last thing he wanted to do. He climbed out of the window and was gone, melded into the night, before I could say another word. I closed the open window, shutting out the night air, and got ready for bed. As I pulled the sheets up around me, I thought of Ian. Who did he mean to say my protector was? Or did he know who it was? Did I know who it was? I lay back against the pillows behind my head and sighed.

"Too many mysteries came with you," I said to the Witchblade, which was lying dormant on my wrist. "Why won't you show me the answers?" After I had thrown this question to the void, I could have sworn I heard someone say, "All in good time, Sara." The crazy thing was that I thought it was Ian.

"All in good time," I repeated. "You should have come with an instruction manual. It would have saved me a lot of time." With that I closed my eyes and surrendered myself to my dreams, where my protector was waiting for me. Soon I would know him, see him somewhere in my life, but until that time, the angry flame of passion would have to wait for its stimulus.

The End