Inferno
By Divamercury
Well, I bet you weren't expecting a multiple POV fic, were you? You'll see why it's necessary as I go along. Anyway, it's been Sara up until now, but the first part of this chapterit's not hard to guess who's talking. And Gabriel will be making an appearance later on down the line. So enjoy Chapter 4!
Chapter 4
As instructed, and by my own desire, I followed Sara from a distance that evening. I saw her enter the dress shop and carry on conversations with the girls inside it, albeit half-heartedly. The shopkeeper distributed dresses to the women inside and finally what was going on inside struck me. I had wondered why Sara would enter a place like that, my Sara of jeans and leather jackets. Obviously she was taking part in a friend's wedding and was receiving her dress. She disappeared for several minutes, trying on the dress, and then emerged, stepping up in front of the mirror.
I stood in awe, inhaling sharply, marveling at what I was seeing.
Sara was an absolute vision. She was a rival to the goddess Venus herself as far as beauty went and I couldn't help but stare. Her incredible figure was perfectly accented by the peach gown that she wore and she seemed to know it. The two other girls behind Sara were shooting looks of envy laced with venom at Sara's back, while the girl in white, obviously the bride, glowed with pride in her friend. Sara seemed to be in deep thought and was most likely analyzing how she looked. I smiled, then closed my eyes. I was making a mental picture of Sara like that and I promised myself never to forget how she looked at that moment. The way her thick mane of brown hair fell around her face, the way her green eyes sparkled as she took in her reflectionthis and a million other tiny details made her the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life.
Sara's gaze left her reflection and for a moment she could quite possibly have seen me in my position in a parking deck across the street from the shop. Luckily she didn't catch me before I slipped behind a column, or else something awkward would have happened. I left my post watching Sara, ignoring the ache deep inside me that told me to stay near my lady, and I headed back to Irons's penthouse.
* * *
I glanced out the window and looked across the street. For a moment could have sworn that I saw a flash of black, but then blinked and decided that I was just hallucinating. I turned back to Ciara.
"Well, does this look all right?" I asked. " Because I've got to be going. I'm sorry to have to leave so fast, but I've got some stuff to do."
"Sure, Sara. I mean, I'm sorry to have brought you here on such short notice, but I'm really glad you could make it. Our first rehearsal is on the 27th, so I guess I'll see you then, huh?" she asked.
"Works for me. See ya, Ciara. Louisa, Hillary," I said. I went back to the dressing room, changed my clothes in what must have been record time, and then left the shop.
"I need a shower," I said to myself. "The perfect end to the worst possible day. Damn December 4th."
* * *
After work on December 24th, I called my friend Gabriel, my leading source on the Witchblade except for Ian Nottingham.
"Hey Chief. I was just about to call you, in fact. I've got a few questions for you. Can you come and meet me this week some time?"
"Yeah, sure. How about the 27th?"
"Sounds good to me. See you then, Gabe."
"See ya, Chief."
Seconds after I hung up with Gabe I got a very peculiar phone call from Kenneth Irons.
"Hello, Sara. I was wondering if you would be so kind as to come to my home tonight."
"Why?" I asked warily. What is he up to this time?' I thought.
"You have no one to share the holidays with, unfortunately, and I thought that I would see if you would want to actually celebrate."
I was getting a little scared. This was way out of character for Irons.
"Fine. I don't have anything else to do, so why not? I'll be there in five minutes, Irons," I said. But he had already hung up.
"Damn! Another time he refused to let me hang up on him," I fumed.
Arriving on time as I did, Ian was waiting for me outside of the formidable edifice of Vorschlag Industries.
"Good evening, Sara," he said, dropping his eyes as was his custom.
"Good evening, Ian. Merry Christmas," I said. He and I walked into the building together and into Irons's room.
"You may close the door on your way out, Ian," Irons said. Ian obeyed, a bit disappointed, I noticed.
"Would you care for some wine, Sara?" Irons inquired.
Usually I declined, because many times I was on duty, but this time was different. It was the holidays, after all.
"Sure. Thanks," I said, watching him pour the wine and accepting the glass he offered me.
"To the holidays and the New Year," Irons said. I agreed and we tapped glasses. I sipped the wine and then shuddered. It had an odd taste.
"Irons, has your wine gone bad?"
"Nonsense, Sara. Wine only gets better with age. Why?" he asked, his face oddly pale.
"It just seems bitter, that's all," I said, taking another sip. "But then again, I'm not used to wine, really."
"Ah, yes. Well, this wine does tend to have a temperamental body to it," Irons said, and for a moment I thought I saw a flash of something–triumph or malevolence, it was hard to tell–in his icy, unfeeling eyes. "It's an acquired taste."
We talked about the holidays for a while, and I left when he offered me another glass of wine, politely declining. Even on nights when I wasn't on duty, I didn't like to get drunk. I didn't mind having a few drinks, but I never overdid.
"Well, good evening, Sara. Take care," he said with an odd smile that somehow seemed to be saying exactly the opposite of what normal smiles meant.
On my way home I couldn't help but ponder what had just happened in there. Irons was acting really weird, even for him. Was he trying to get into my good graces again? Was he trying to convince me that he was my Guardian? Because he wouldn't succeed at that. I knew he wasn't. The question in my mind was "Who is my Guardian?" And would I ever find out?
