"I owe you a debt, Cashel. This ring means a lot to me, even though I don't understand what it is about. I'll ask one more favor - can you tell me how to find Connemara?"
"Connemara. Yes, you're right. You won't find that one in the guide book. Here, I'll write you directions." Cashel took out a business card and wrote on the back of it. The front of the card read "Cashel Kirby, Antiquities" and had a phone number.
Sara offered her own business card. "Like I said, I owe a debt to you and yours. Let me know if I can do anything for you."
-----------
Ian found Sara at the top of the ruins of Connemara, as far up as she could climb. She was looking out at the view over the remains of a parapet. The sun was warm through the light haze. It was afternoon.
"Ian, come here," she said without turning. He stepped up behind and to her right side. "Give me your hand. Without the glove." He extended his bare right hand.
Sara touched him and saw:
Ian on the phone saying "The arrangements are made. He has been hired by a club in New York."
Ian in a room saying "I will tell you were you can find the brother of Edward Dougherty."
Sara couldn't breathe. Her mind grabbled with the clues the Witchblade had shown her. John was lured to New York. John was betrayed by Ian.
She gripped Ian's hand again with another question. Why? Now she saw Irons as he planned this cruelty. "She must face the Periculum to finish the change. A sudden unexpected death can trigger it. Her father is dead. Her best friend is dead. Her partner is dead. It is time to locate the one man sure to win her heart. The heir of Conchobar."
She backhanded Ian across the face with the Glove. Then stuck again, and again. Ian did not defend himself.
"Tell me! **strike** . How can I make you suffer! **strike** the pain! **strike** you have dealt to me? Who can I take from you! **strike** that is more important! **strike** than life itself? What would cause you! **strike** a wound that will not heal?"
"Shut up, Danny!" She didn't want to hear from the wraith trying to be her conscience.
But she stopped. Ian crouched on the stones, protecting his head with his arms, otherwise unmoving. Blood plastered his dark curls to his face. She took in a deep, shaky breath.
"The answer is nothing. Nothing!" Sara spat. She turned to leave but first spoke over her shoulder.
"I don't want to see you for three days. I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear you. I don't want to smell you."
She was gone.
He stayed in place for several long moments before he could believe she wasn't coming back to finish his life. Then he thought about cleaning his wounds. If he could walk. He made his way outside and down the slope to a ditch where he cleaned his hands and face in a trickle of water. Despite the ferocity of her attack no bones were broken.
The rest of the wounds would not show. Including the wound that would not heal - the knowledge that he had been the instrument of Sara's lover's death.
-----------
Ian drove off in his rental car. Sara waited until he was gone, then went to her car and retrieved her coat and a couple of bottles of water that she had purchased at a convenience store. She went back into the ruins and looked for a spot to nest in. She found what appeared to be the ruins of a small chapel, where two walls formed a corner to block the wind. She wasn't going anywhere for a while.
After a couple of hours Danny paid her a visit. "What are you up to, Pez?"
"I'm going to stay here until I figure things out."
"Oh. How long is that?"
"I've got 3 days before Nottingham gets the nerve to face me again. Maybe I'll know what to do by then."
"So, you're staying here with 2 bottles of water and a box of chips for 3 days?"
"Yeah, it's a vision quest thing. You know, suffering, hallucinating. Just another day with the Witchblade!"
Sara turned away from Danny and hunkered down. It was not a time to talk.
Through the night Sara thought about her past. Where she was at different times. Who she hung out with. What her goals had been. She wondered if there was a point to it. What was moving her from school to job, from family to friends to lovers to her last love.
Last love. Was that the epithet for John Patrick? Was that her fate? What was she doing it all for? Why did it matter? How did it matter? The stars were bright but they didn't have anything to say. She felt trapped in her own mind.
Dominique Boucher had said that everything was connected. Everything in her life was being orchestrated by the Witchblade. Starting when? Did that mean the Witchblade was responsible for John's death? Were Irons and Nottingham tools of the Witchblade? Or was Irons in control, herding the Witchblade to his own ends? Just how much of Sara's life was scripted by or for the Witchblade?
After dawn, Danny was back. "So you're serious about this vision quest thing."
Sara looked at him but said nothing. He left.
"Connemara. Yes, you're right. You won't find that one in the guide book. Here, I'll write you directions." Cashel took out a business card and wrote on the back of it. The front of the card read "Cashel Kirby, Antiquities" and had a phone number.
Sara offered her own business card. "Like I said, I owe a debt to you and yours. Let me know if I can do anything for you."
-----------
Ian found Sara at the top of the ruins of Connemara, as far up as she could climb. She was looking out at the view over the remains of a parapet. The sun was warm through the light haze. It was afternoon.
"Ian, come here," she said without turning. He stepped up behind and to her right side. "Give me your hand. Without the glove." He extended his bare right hand.
Sara touched him and saw:
Ian on the phone saying "The arrangements are made. He has been hired by a club in New York."
Ian in a room saying "I will tell you were you can find the brother of Edward Dougherty."
Sara couldn't breathe. Her mind grabbled with the clues the Witchblade had shown her. John was lured to New York. John was betrayed by Ian.
She gripped Ian's hand again with another question. Why? Now she saw Irons as he planned this cruelty. "She must face the Periculum to finish the change. A sudden unexpected death can trigger it. Her father is dead. Her best friend is dead. Her partner is dead. It is time to locate the one man sure to win her heart. The heir of Conchobar."
She backhanded Ian across the face with the Glove. Then stuck again, and again. Ian did not defend himself.
"Tell me! **strike** . How can I make you suffer! **strike** the pain! **strike** you have dealt to me? Who can I take from you! **strike** that is more important! **strike** than life itself? What would cause you! **strike** a wound that will not heal?"
"Shut up, Danny!" She didn't want to hear from the wraith trying to be her conscience.
But she stopped. Ian crouched on the stones, protecting his head with his arms, otherwise unmoving. Blood plastered his dark curls to his face. She took in a deep, shaky breath.
"The answer is nothing. Nothing!" Sara spat. She turned to leave but first spoke over her shoulder.
"I don't want to see you for three days. I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear you. I don't want to smell you."
She was gone.
He stayed in place for several long moments before he could believe she wasn't coming back to finish his life. Then he thought about cleaning his wounds. If he could walk. He made his way outside and down the slope to a ditch where he cleaned his hands and face in a trickle of water. Despite the ferocity of her attack no bones were broken.
The rest of the wounds would not show. Including the wound that would not heal - the knowledge that he had been the instrument of Sara's lover's death.
-----------
Ian drove off in his rental car. Sara waited until he was gone, then went to her car and retrieved her coat and a couple of bottles of water that she had purchased at a convenience store. She went back into the ruins and looked for a spot to nest in. She found what appeared to be the ruins of a small chapel, where two walls formed a corner to block the wind. She wasn't going anywhere for a while.
After a couple of hours Danny paid her a visit. "What are you up to, Pez?"
"I'm going to stay here until I figure things out."
"Oh. How long is that?"
"I've got 3 days before Nottingham gets the nerve to face me again. Maybe I'll know what to do by then."
"So, you're staying here with 2 bottles of water and a box of chips for 3 days?"
"Yeah, it's a vision quest thing. You know, suffering, hallucinating. Just another day with the Witchblade!"
Sara turned away from Danny and hunkered down. It was not a time to talk.
Through the night Sara thought about her past. Where she was at different times. Who she hung out with. What her goals had been. She wondered if there was a point to it. What was moving her from school to job, from family to friends to lovers to her last love.
Last love. Was that the epithet for John Patrick? Was that her fate? What was she doing it all for? Why did it matter? How did it matter? The stars were bright but they didn't have anything to say. She felt trapped in her own mind.
Dominique Boucher had said that everything was connected. Everything in her life was being orchestrated by the Witchblade. Starting when? Did that mean the Witchblade was responsible for John's death? Were Irons and Nottingham tools of the Witchblade? Or was Irons in control, herding the Witchblade to his own ends? Just how much of Sara's life was scripted by or for the Witchblade?
After dawn, Danny was back. "So you're serious about this vision quest thing."
Sara looked at him but said nothing. He left.