Note: I was reading my little ficcy, I go back and check for errors and what not, and I noticed that the visual structure was messed up. I wrote this thing in Arial font. If you want to see it the way it is supposed to look you can select Arial as the font for fanfiction.net. I just noticed that some of the sentences were cut off and moved down after one or two words.

Please review after each chapter you read and tell me what you think instead of whenever you finish.

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************
VII. NON.PARADISUM

Kenneth Irons had called her again. To come over a learn more about the Witchblade. Last time he did this it had everything to do with her case. Maybe history would repeat itself. Maybe not. Either way she would gain knowledge in some area.

Jake didn't want her to go at all. Well, she didn't want to go either, but she was sucking it up.

Sara entered the elevator and pressed the button to the top floor of the Vorshlage building. She didn't bother saying anything to the secretary anymore. The doors opened and Nottingham led her to Irons' office.

"Good afternoon, Sara."

Nottingham left the room.

"What do you want Mr. Irons?"

"You do know that they are memories, don't you? You shouldn't hide from them behind your partner. They will help you."

"How do you . . .? You know. There is something in the world called privacy! Can't I go any where with out your boyfriend following me."

"Ian does not follow you constantly. But really, you and Detective McCartey aren't . . ."

"No. And if we were it would be none of your business."

Sara Pezzini really didn't like this guy. Maybe he could tell her something though.

"How did you know that I'm "hiding" behind Jake?"

"You're partner was here sometime ago. To deliver the check fro the damages to the Rialto theater. I was very surprised, actually. I discovered something interesting. He is unusual in that certain objects like tarot card, Ouija boards, and other devices of the sort are useless in his presence. Typically people like him have no color to their auras. You have witnessed first hand the other property of his . . . type."

"Is that rare?"

"No. Actually it is fairly common. Not rare but not rampant. Though few are as potent as that. I believe that several of your uniformed officers are like Detective McCartey, but not as influential. In an odd way he is the opposite of what you are. There are some whose influence is much stronger, and physical touch is not required. Just being within several feet of them will do."

"Why are you so forthcoming with this?"

"Because you have the dreams for a reason."

"I think you just want to drive me to the point that I take you up on your offer."

"Now why would I do that?"

"Because you're a power hungry ass-hole."

Irons laughed and got out of his seat to walk over to her.

"Don't come any closer."

He stopped half way in between his desk and her. Staring at her.

"Why did you ask me here?"

"I have already told you."

"You had me come all the way over here to tell me to not have Jake around."

"Basically."

"You don't run my life."

"No. The Blade does. I know what it wants, Sara. The dreams will tell you if you listen. Haven't the visions helped you solve your cases? Don't you find them useful?"

"Sometimes. Mostly they give me a headache, and wear me down. But I'll figure it out on my own. I don't need your help."

Sara stalked out of Irons office. He continued to stand there and stare at the space she had just vacated.

* * * *

He shouldn't have tried to utilize the weapon's powers. He knew, now, why he could never wear the Glove.

It was slowly costing him his sanity.

It had sat in a museum in the Capitol for centuries. With children and bards telling stories about how the ancient Queen had used it to ensnare the first of the Caesars. I was supposed to be rubbish.

Bed time stories.

The Emperor had never been so wrong in his life. The surgeons were blaming his condition on the lead from the pipes, but the mineral build up had not been compromised. There was no lead exposed in all of the palace.

No, it was the Glove. It haunted him. Even after he had ripped it off of his wrist.

No one understood. Not the Senate. Not his horse.

Why did he put his horse in the Senate?

It was the Glove. The Blade was tearing his mind apart. How? How could it do this to him? He was a Caesar. Infallible.

It whispered to him. Constantly. The voices never stopped.

He could fly away.

Yes there was the ledge.

It would show them. All of them.

He stood on the balcony ledge, and jumped.

* * * *

Sara woke up just before the Emperor hit the ground. She checked to make sure she was still alive. She had almost gotten used to not having the dreams.

Tonight Sara knew she would have to face them. Captain Dante was borrowing Jake for some all night reorganization of the hard files. The Captain was trying to tell them, in a very annoying way, that they needed to get to work. There was only one problem. There was nothing to work with. Jake had promised to come over if he lived through the experience. His comment had made her laugh.

Sigh.

A man's memory this time. A Caesar of Rome, huh? This thing really got around.

Sara laid back down and stared at the ceiling.

There had been nothing of interest at the house. The scene under the highway was gone. She hadn't had one useful vision. Danny hadn't been of any help. Oh, she had forgotten to ask Jake.

The background checks on the two identified bodies might clear some things up. She hated waiting.

Three knocks at the door broke Sara's train of thought. She opened the door to find her partner looking like he had been tossed around a bit.

"What happened to you?" She shut the door behind him.

"Would you believe that a shelf fell on me. Since it drew blood, Dante told me I could leave. For injury in the line of duty."

"I didn't know he had a sense of humor."

"It's a new thing."

"And, uh, you had better not get dust on my bed."

Jake rolled his eyes at her and headed to the bathroom to change and clean up.

"Uh, Pez?" His muffled voice came through the door.

"Yeah."

"The check on the Fillamore woman came through," He stepped out of the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, "We'll have to wait longer for the other guy. Lot's of red tape with him."

"Maybe they'll shock us."

"Maybe."

"Are you ok? You look like some thing's bothering you."

"Are-are you ok with this?"

"With what?"

Jake shook his head, "You know what I mean."

"I honestly don't know. I guess I didn't stop to think about it. But I appreciate it."

"Sara, I-"

The phone rang, cutting him off in mid sentence.

"Hello . . . Yeah. He just got here . . . Where? . . . We'll be there."

She hung up the phone and began to pick up her clothes.

"What's going on?"

"They've found another one."

* * * *

Ooooooo. She was here. The Lady Detective had come, like he had hoped. But the Partner was with her, too. He might have to take them both to get the Lady Detective. If he did that he could get rid of the Partner. He didn't like his type. How could people like him cancel out other people's sight? It was rude.

He didn't like rude people.

Maybe they would like his picture.

He had seen what he wanted. He knew she would come, now. It was time for him to leave.

* * * *

The space between his shoulder blades burned. There was someone watching them again.

Detective McCartey scanned the area.

Damn.

It was too dark to make out much of anything, and the feeling was gone now. He walked over to Sara, and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Pez."

"What is it?"

"There was someone here."

"Well someone had to be to put this here."

"Not like that. I mean there someone was watching us. Whoever is gone now."

"Do you think it could have been our guy?"

"Could have been Nottingham again. I don't know."

"Great."

McCartey continued to canvass the immediate scene. It was difficult without day light, but sometimes a flashlight could do better. Like finding something reflective.

"What's this? Hey! I need an evidence bag!"

It was the old man's wallet. Poor guy. He had been twisted and broken into some ungodly position. When he first saw the body, Jake almost thought it was a doll or mannequin. Upon closer inspection, however . . . He shook his head.

"Here you go, McCarty."

"Thanks, man."

Nothing was missing out of the leather wallet. Money, credit cards, bank card, it was all there. They had ID on the man, at least. Birth date March 3, 1928. Peter Thomas was 73 years old.

He dropped the wallet into the plastic bag, and placed it with the others.

This would throw the psych profile out the window. So far, all of the known victims had been fairly young. The eldest being about 44. The profile had been based around that trend.

"Not anymore," He spoke under his breath.

There didn't seem to be anything logical about the killings. Maybe it was time to start thinking out of the box. Perhaps the killer was completely off kilter. If he was insane, how would you catch a man whose motives would make no sense to any one but his own mind?

He and Pezzini needed to find this guy. Fast. But it looked like it wasn't going to happen that way.

Jake walked back to where the body was, and where Sara seemed to be staring into space. He considered putting his hand on her shoulder to knock her out of it, but he hesitated.

She shook her head and took in a deep breath. Sara had seen something.

"What is it?"

"He thinks he's helping people."

"Strange way of doing it. So . . . ?"

"It was pretty much the same as the others, but his time I heard someone mumbling something about helping all of them."

"Anything else?"

"No."

They watched the coroner take the body away, and the forensics team continued to gather evidence.

"He wanted this one to be found, Sara. But some how I doubt that this is a cry for help."

A nod of the head.

"We have three ID's now. Maybe we can find a trend."

"If we get everything on our victims."

He hated the word "if".

* * * *

Sara Pezzini was not acting in the predicted fashion. She was more head strong than he initially thought.

Kenneth Irons paced his study. Irritated.

He had a notion, in the beginning, that she would accept his offers. But she didn't want power.

Come to think of it, he didn't know what she wanted. He would spend hours staring at the newest painting in the Witchblade Hall, trying to decide what to do next.

Irons hated unpredictability. That wasn't entirely true. He did enjoy a surprise now and then, but only if it was something in his favor.

He was searching on two fronts now. For a way to reign in Sara Pezzini. Neither was going too well.

He ran his fingers through his platinum white hair, and ceased his pacing.

He could wait. He had waited since the 1800's, what did a little more time matter.

* * * *

Seiji didn't have a huge affection for the city of New York. Two out of the four times he had visited the Big Apple, he had ended up restrained. First that idiot scientist who found out that he was a telepath, and now this wacko.

Wacko. He had spent too much time around his girlfriend. And yes, it was possible to do that.

His body had developed an immunity to the first set of tranquilizers that the man had given him, but he found out and changed the prescription.

Seiji was still mad at himself. For being caught. Granted, the man didn't appear as every other person. There was something seriously wrong with his mind. Seiji hadn't recognized him as a human, his mind read more like a canine. At least that was the closest thing that Seiji could come up with. The patterns weren't a perfect match, more like somewhere in between a child and an animal.

He didn't bother to play along with the man. He wouldn't even tell him his name. Seiji wasn't to sure that he knew what his name was if he were to ask.

The room began to spin again. The drugs were starting to kick in. He hoped he didn't become addicted.

Right now he needed to figure out who a few people were. The man wanted the Lady Detective. He couldn't narrow that one down. He didn't know any women detectives. But the Partner was another story. Apparently the Lady Detective was a seer. He was going after people who are Clairvoyant. The Partner was a Negation to her, and the Lady Detective knew it. The man claimed that the Lady Detective was very strong, so the Partner had to be up there too.

Seiji knew, personally, of about six or seven people of that caliber who were what the man called "Negations". He was dating one of them. But she was nearly 1800 miles south of here, and that was no where near New York. In fact, he knew of only one person who fit the description that currently lived in New York.

Maybe if he . . . if he . . .

Shit.

The sedatives took full effect and Seiji passed out.