Chapter 4 -- Understandings
Sara was, by now, growing quite accustomed to visiting the Irons estate, but she was nonetheless, annoyed at being summoned there like another one of his faithful lackeys.
"This way, Detective..." Ian muttered, leading Sara through the now familiar hallways of the Irons estate without looking at her or even turning in her direction. He was surprised to see her there, but did not let it show. His hair was down, hanging in his face, but he made no move to brush it aside or pull it back. When he walked, Sara noticed that it was gingerly, and with a slight limp, as though he had hurt himself somehow.
Sara followed, hoping that Cailean would be with Irons, wanting an opportunity to speak with her. "Will your sister be there?"
Ian shrugged, amused by Sara's interest in Cailean, but wishing that some of her interest might be directed his way for once. "I believe she is with my Master, yes." As they walked he asked, "Will the man be okay? The one who was shot yesterday?"
"You care?" Sara asked, surprised.
Ian shook his head absently. "No, but Cailean does."
"Oh..." Sara frowned, surprised by the admission that he did not care one way or the other about the man. She would have thought him slightly more compassionate than that, even if the man was nothing to him. Still, he cared enough about his sister to inquire on her behalf, which said something for him. "Um, yeah, he's going to make it."
"His name? She's curious."
"Bailey. Robert Bailey."
"Thank you." He pulled opened the doors to the sitting-room and led Sara in.
"Oh... kay..." Sara breathed, looking around the shattered sitting-room with wide eyes. What the hell had happened here? Looking at the normally pristine sitting-room in its present state was an almost surreal experience, like walking into a dream, especially given the fact that no one else in the room seemed to notice the mess.
Irons stood near the fire, being measured by a tailor, looking as calm and unruffled as if his sitting-room was in the same impeccable condition as always. Cailean knelt at his feet with her back to the door, staring at the ground with her hands clasped behind her back, speaking quietly. Sara immediately noticed that her left hand was in a splint of some kind.
"In good conscience, my Master, I can not recommend the blue tie. It simply does not compliment your complexion." She paused, tilting her head. Without looking up or turning around, she said, "Good morning, Detective Pezzini."
Ian frowned, wondering how Cailean had known that Sara was with him when he had not told her or even announced his own presence to her. He stole a cautious glance at Sara who seemed not to have noticed.
"Ah, fair Sara!" Irons greeted her cheerfully, looking up.
He jerked his hand at Cailean, who immediately leapt to her feet and moved to stand to his left and slightly behind him. With a respectful nod to Sara, Ian joined Cailean behind Irons, stepping carefully around glass and pottery shards. The tailor continued taking his measurements, studiously ignoring everything that went on around him. He knew that Irons was an eccentric old man with a very odd home-life and a parade of bizarre visitors running through his house, but his money was good.
Sara stared at the remains of the blue and white vase at her feet. "Redecorating, Irons?" she asked casually, toeing a large shard of porcelain.
The tailor bit his lip to hide a grin.
"Mmm..." Irons shrugged, his smile wavering. Sara had arrived earlier than he had anticipated or he would have met her in his office instead of the shattered room. In his office, the illusion of absolute control could have been maintained. Here, it wavered.
"You know, Irons, I hate to criticize your domestic policies, but I think you've been going a little too easy on the maid..."
"The cleaning service doesn't arrive until eight. Needless to say, such a mess is a little beyond the scope of my normal housekeeping staff..." Irons said, forcing an absent smile.
Sara glanced at what was left of the display-case. "Of course, I hear that the, um, distressed look is... popular this year..."
Irons managed a forced laugh. "Call it... sibling rivalry."
Sara stared at him in surprise. Behind him, Ian and Cailean looked up and grinned at each other like naughty children before resuming their normal posture. Sara found the grins faintly unsettling coming from a pair of assassins. She also noticed that both of their faces bore a number of large and fresh bruises.
"I, uh... notice that they didn't exactly escape unscathed."
"Yes, well..." Irons shrugged again. "These things will happen." After a brief pause, he asked, "So, what brings you here this fine morning, Sara?"
"I'm returning Cailean's property, but then, I assume you already knew that since you're the one who asked Dante to send me." Sara frowned at this. Being forced to run errands for Dante was bad enough without throwing Irons and his hidden motives into the mix.
Irons shrugged helplessly. "Found out." He glanced down at the tailor who was measuring his inseam. "Come back later."
Sara sniggered, a dozen different jokes and quips running through her mind. Still, he did an admirable job of remaining cool and collected given how close the other man's hands and face were to his crotch. Years of practice? She smiled and lowered her head.
"But, sir..." the tailor began, knowing that this was going to throw off his entire schedule. Typical.
"Little sensitive, Irons?" Sara asked casually. "Don't worry, I hear lots of guys are ticklish there..."
"Later..." Irons repeated firmly to the tailor, snorting impatiently and ignoring Sara's comment. "Ian, see him out. Make another appointment."
Ian hesitated for a second before leading the tailor from the room, hesitant as always to leave Sara alone with Irons. He reminded himself that Cailean was there and gestured for the tailor to follow him. He nodded politely to Sara as he pulled the door open, using the excuse to linger near her for a moment before leaving.
"You know, I didn't mean to interrupt. I can just... go. Let you get back to your fitting."
Irons shook his head. "That won't be necessary."
"It's not like I can stay long anyway..." Sara said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the gun.
At a snap from Irons, Cailean stepped forward and took it from her. "Thank you, Lady Sara..." she muttered before stepping away and resuming her post behind Irons. Irons observed the exchange expressionlessly.
He smiled at Sara. "Can I offer you a drink, Detective? Sherry?"
She shook her head, wondering if he even realized that it was eight in the morning. "No. I can't..."
He nodded. "Of course, my mistake. You're on duty."
Sara nodded. "Um, yeah."
Irons smiled at her. "Well, perhaps you would care to return later, then?"
"Later?" Sara asked, frowning uncertainly. Irons always made her uncomfortable, especially when he acted friendly. "Uh, let me get back to you on that one, okay." I'll have my people call your people.
Ian returned to the room and moved to rejoin Cailean.
Is she not everything he said she would be? he asked her.
Everything and more, Ian.
Ian smiled at her, confident that Irons would not see. The man you found, his name is Bailey. She says that he's going to be just fine.
Thank you, Ian.
Irons smiled and moved closer to Sara. A piece of glass crunched under his feet. "I'm having a small welcome-home party for our Cailean this evening. You would be most welcomed."
Cailean and Ian glanced up at each other in alarm, Sara observed. Cailean looked resigned, but Ian looked anxious and uncomfortable. Sara could not blame him. She was not a fan of formal gatherings herself.
Irons ushered her farther into the sitting-room, offering her a seat. Without stopping to see if she would take it, he moved to stand next to Cailean, wrapping an arm around her waist. Ian glared at him with a murderous expression. Sara would not have been completely surprised if Ian had chosen that opportunity to rush Irons and break his neck. He looked outraged. Sara, who had never seen him express any emotion at all, was startled and wondered what she was missing.
Irons was enjoying the contact, but Cailean clearly was not. She tensed slightly in his grip before relaxing. Her eyes went blank so rapidly that Sara realized that she was used to unwanted physical contact from Irons. That would explain Ian's anger.
Although Ian did not open his mouth, Sara quite clearly heard his voice in her head. Get your goddamned hands off of her!
Cailean assumed much the same expression as a deer confronted by a car's headlights, but she quickly composed herself and glanced quickly over her shoulder at Ian. He stared at her for a moment before resuming his normal, subservient posture. Sara stared in confusion. Something had clearly passed between the two.
That was so loud that I would be surprised if Lady Sara did not hear you, Ian...Cailean chastised gently.
Forgive me. I was frustrated. I lost my composure.
I noticed. Guard yourself.
"Will you come?" Irons asked, oblivious to the interaction.
Sara stared at him uncertainly. Somehow, Irons had not heard Ian. Could she have really heard him? In her head like that? No, she must have been imagining it, projecting her own distaste at the display in some way. "Um... I don't..."
She glanced at the blood-covered Monet and had a series of visions of Ian and Cailean fighting as Irons looked on, at his insistence. In some of the visions, they were as she had seen them yesterday. In others, they were little more than children. In a handful of the visions, they were in the sitting-room. In the rest, they were in a gym or boxing-ring. Always, though, they fought at the insistence of Irons and until he allowed them to stop. She shook her head to dispel the image, troubled by the casual brutality of it.
"Please, Detective. I insist. Call it a... thank you for your kind treatment of Cailean at your precinct house yesterday." Irons smiled at her. "I insist..." he repeated, smiling. "We'll see you this evening. Ian, kindly see the Detective out."
Ian nodded and left Cailean's side. "This way, please, Detective."
Sara followed him out. As Ian held the door opened for her, she hesitated. "Look at me, Nottingham..." she ordered.
Startled, he looked up.
Sara examined his black eye thoughtfully. She started to reach up to touch the bruise, but caught herself and dropped her hand, deciding that, if his sister were any indication, Nottingham might not welcome the contact. "Nice. How'd Cailean fare?"
Ian noticed Sara's aborted effort to touch him, but was not surprised by it. Few women would willingly have touched him. There was no reason to suppose Sara was any different in that respect. "Her injuries are more visible, but she caused me somewhat more damage."
Sara frowned. She simply could not see Nottingham striking a woman, especially Cailean, whom he obviously cared for. "Nottingham, what really made you decide to beat the crap out of each other and take the furniture with you?" she asked to confirm the feel the visions had given her.
"Our Master told us to fight. We fought. We so seldom have the opportunity to fight equals that I'm afraid we tend to get somewhat... overzealous."
She received another brief vision of two children fighting. The fight looked vicious, but she could hear young laughter and see the smiles on their faces. Well, now she knew what he did for fun, at least.
"The sitting-room suffered some... collateral damage..." Ian continued, staring at the ground and trying not to show his amusement over the fact.
Sara frowned uncertainly. "Collateral damage?" she repeated, shaking her head in amazement. They had actually enjoyed trashing the sitting-room. She puzzled over this for a few minutes before it occurred to her that this might well be the only way in which the two could retaliate against Irons for his cruelty without having to fear retribution. "Collateral damage..." she repeating knowingly, giving Ian a conspiratorial grin.
"Yes, Detective." He nodded, smiling shyly. After a brief pause, he said quietly, "I look forward to seeing you tonight."
Sara frowned, surprised by the forward nature of the statement. Definitely not like Ian Nottingham. "I didn't say I was coming."
Ian nodded, doing his best to hide the disappointment he unaccountably felt. Although he worried over his master's motives in inviting Sara, he found himself very much wanting to see her again. Of course, he could hardly expect the feeling to be mutual. "Of course not. I will convey your excuses to Cailean... She had very much wished to speak with you again."
Sara raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
Ian nodded. Fortunately for him, it happened to be true. "Very much so."
Sara nodded. "I'll see you tonight, Nottingham."
He allowed himself a faint smile. "I look forward to it, Detective..." he muttered, hardly believing his own daring. Cailean's enthusiasm for life was becoming infectious. He would have to take her advice and guard himself more carefully.
"Um... yeah." Sara nodded and quickly left.
***
"Nope, I don't know when Sara's going to get here..." Jake told the young man again, shaking his head in irritation. "Look, why don't you just leave a message, Mr. Bowman..."
The young man smiled apologetically at Jake and leaned against the door-frame, glancing around nervously. He hated being around all these cops, especially after having spent the previous evening talking to his client Jim-the-conspiracy-nut Smith-of-course-that's-my-real-name. Although he trusted Sara implicitly, he felt less comfortable about her partner, and even more unsure about the other cops around. It was not so much that he expected to get a night-stick in the back of his knees, just that Sara did not seem to get along with any of them and she was a great judge of character.
Sara walked into the office. "I've got him, Jake."
He looked up, surprised. "Oh, hey, Sara. Where you been?" He nodded a greeting.
"Hey Jake." Sara nodded back. "Hey, Gabriel."
"Sara. You got a minute?" Gabriel asked, immediately feeling more comfortable now that Sara was around.
She nodded.
Jake half-rose. "Where were you, Sara?" he asked, frustrated. "I'm up to my elbows in paperwork here, Pez..."
"I was running an errand for Dante." Sara made a face. "Sorry. I thought I'd be back before you got here." She looked at Gabriel. "What's up?"
"Business." He nodded discretely in the direction of her right wrist.
Sara nodded. "For that, I've got a minute." She followed him from the office.
"Pez, what about the paperwork?" Jake asked insistently.
"I'll finish it over lunch, Jake. Just put it on my desk." She took Gabriel by the arm and led him out of the office.
"Business?" Jake muttered. He shook his head as he watched them go. Sara Pezzini definitely had some strange friends. As if Ian Nottingham was not bad enough news. Any kid that nervous had to be strung out on something. And those clothes! Did the kid even realize that the seventies were over? "Strange friends..." he muttered, shaking his head again and transferring a pile of paperwork onto Sara's desk.
"What you got for me, Gabriel?" Sara asked as they walked through the hallways of the precinct.
"Right now, nothing. But, rumor has it that Elizabeth Bronte kept a diary for a couple of years after the war. I'm thinking that there could be some sweet information in it about you know what. It's supposed to be in the British War Museum, but the story goes that they won't put it on display because they're afraid it would make her look crazy. I could probably get my hands on it long enough to make copies. You want I should try?"
Sara smiled and nodded. "Yeah. If you can. If nothing else, it'll have some sentimental value."
"Cool. I'll see what I can do." Gabriel grinned at her and turned to leave.
"Gabe..." Sara said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Question."
He turned around, nodding. "Sure, Sara. Shoot." He grinned and winked at her.
Smiling at his sick sense of humor, Sara leaned closer to him and lowered her voice. "They brought this woman in yesterday, Gabriel, a suspect. Thing is, I've been having these visions of her for a couple of days. Since before they brought her in."
Gabriel frowned. "From the Witchblade?"
She nodded. "Yeah, looks that way. I'm seeing her in all these different time-periods..."
Gabriel frowned. "What's she doing?"
Sara shrugged. "I can't tell. The visions are too quick and... confused."
Gabriel nodded, frowning thoughtfully. "And it's always this same woman?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"What do you know about theories of reincarnation?"
"Very little."
Gabriel nodded and shrugged. "Okay. Well, it's like this. Some people think that we reincarnate into different life-forms depending on what we've done or learned in the life before. So, if you're good or have learned a lot, you might end up as a well-off or very wise human, but if you're bad, you might end up as a cockroach or a laboratory rat or something nasty like that."
Sara nodded. It sounded vaguely familiar, even if she could not see what it had to do with anything.
"Well," Gabriel continued, "there's another theory that humans are always going to come back as humans. And some people expand on that theory by saying that not only do humans always come back as humans, but that they always come back in the same patterns."
Sara shook her head. "You've lost me, Gabriel."
"The roles people play in regards to each other are always the same. Friends are always friends. Relatives are always relatives. Lovers are always lovers. That obnoxious jerk who taught your high-school biology class is always the person trying to stamp out your love of learning." Gabriel smiled again. "You follow."
Sara nodded. "Yeah. Think so."
"Good. Now, going with that theory, I would have to say that, if you're always the Wielder, maybe other people around you have always had the same pre-designated roles as well. You know, you're always the Wielder, Conchabar is always your doomed boyfriend, and the handsome and dashing Gabriel is always your go-to guy..." He grinned at her.
Sara smiled back. "Is that possible, Gabriel?"
Gabriel shrugged and indicated the Witchblade. "You tell me. What'd this woman do, anyway?"
"She was brought in for attempted murder, but she actually saved the man's life."
He nodded. "Look, if you can give me a description of her, I'll see if I can dig up some pictorial evidence of her existence in your previous lives. Maybe it'll help... nail down her role in all of this."
"I can do better than a description. How's a copy of her mug-shot sound?"
"Better than a description." Gabriel followed her to the file-room where the mug-shots were kept. "Look, Sara," he said as she made a copy of the picture "you're in a much better position than I am to figure out what's up with this woman. You've got the Witchblade. Use it."
"I told you, I can't make sense of the visions." Sara handed him the copy.
"Maybe you can learn to. You get the visions for a reason, you know."
"I know." Sara nodded. "You see what you can do, I'll see what I can do." She wondered if this could actually work. Hopefully, now that she had passed the Periculum, she would have more control over the powers of the Witchblade, but she placed more faith in Gabriel's ability to dig up obscure information than in her own ability to make sense of the visions.
He nodded. "Cool. And I'll get back to you when I know some more about the journal?"
Sara nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Gabriel." She grinned at him. "I'll see you around."
He grinned and nodded. "Yeah. Bye, Pez."
Sara walked back to the office, wondering how she was going to go about making sense of the visions. Or if she could at all. "I'll bet Danny could help me..." she muttered.
"What was that all about?" Jake asked her as she entered the office.
"Business."
"What kind of business."
"Personal business, Jake."
"Wasn't he the shrunken-head guy from the Isaac Sullivan case?" Jake asked. "Didn't know you were into shrunken heads, Pez."
"It was mummified, not shrunken, Jake." Sara sat down. "Kid's an antique dealer."
"Right." Jake shrugged. "Oh, hey, I put out some feelers on Cailean yesterday. You want to hear what I found out?"
"Love to." Sara nodded and leaned across the desk.
"Well, the first thing that I found out is that her last name's not Nottingham."
"So, they aren't related after all?"
Jake shook his head. "Oh, they're related alright. Brother and sister, just like he said."
Sara frowned thoughtfully. "So, what's her last name, then?"
"Irons. Cailean Irons."
"Irons?" Sara repeated, frowning.
Jake nodded. "She had it legally changed when Kenneth Irons adopted her ten years ago. He made her his heir at the same time."
"His heir?"
Jake nodded. "She stands to inherit everything. Vorschlag Industries, the money, the TV station, the biotech, the real-estate, the art-work, a couple of diamond-mines... all of it."
"Wow." Sara nodded. "Nottingham?"
"Not mentioned in the will. The sister gets it all."
So, that was what Irons meant by sibling rivalry. She wondered if he was intentionally trying to drive a wedge between them. It was not unlikely. "Impressive."
Jake nodded. "My guess is that she's sleeping with him."
Sara rubbed her forehead as she experienced a brief and unpleasant vision of Irons shoving Cailean onto a bed. "What else, Jake?" she asked, sighing and banishing the vision. Some things she did not need to see before breakfast. Or ever. She shivered. She might have dispelled the vision, but she would probably never be able to shake the memory. Her respect for Irons reached new lows.
"Um... ex-Marine."
"She was in the Marines?" Sara asked, trying to reconcile the image of the almost painfully skinny woman she had seen with the tough-guy Marine persona.
Jake nodded and handed her a folder. "Routinely outperformed her male corps-mates." He paused, frowning. "Did I say routinely? I meant always." He glanced down at a piece of paper in his hands. "Um, she was in just under two years, medical discharge."
"For what?"
"Epilepsy."
"Epilepsy?" Sara frowned. "She got into the Marines with epilepsy?"
Jake shook his head. "The records call it the result of medical procedures performed during her service. The, um, dates correspond with her brother's membership in the Black Dragons. It's a bit of a jump, but it's possible that she underwent a lot of the same training and drug therapy."
Sara nodded. It made more sense than Jake thought. "Yeah. Vicky Po, you know, the ME, suggested that Nottingham probably has the same problem. Seizures when exposed to strobing light."
Jake nodded. "Right, I think I remember that."
"What else?" Sara asked.
"Um, over the past ten years, she's trained at some of the finest finishing-schools, Dojos, and paramilitary academies in the world. Also law school and business-school. Spent two years in Japan for no reason that anyone can find, which is actually a pretty common denominator. No one seems to know what she's been up to half the time for the past ten years."
Sara nodded and leafed through the information that Jake had thrown together. It was an impressive collection. He might have been a rookie, but he was better than most seasoned pros at pulling information together on short notice. She was too concerned at the moment with Cailean to worry about how. "That's in keeping. Irons tends to be pretty secretive. You can bet a lot of it wasn't completely on the up-and-up..."
Jake nodded. "Yeah, but getting anything solid on her is going to be pretty hard. You want me to dig deeper?"
Sara considered, staring at the papers in her hand. "Um, that's okay, Jake. You're right. It's going to be hard to get anything solid on her. Thanks, though." She smiled absently at him, hoping that he would not dig farther. She might be able to get away with nosing into the personal affairs of Ken Irons, but she doubted if he would tolerate anyone else doing it for long. Jake might conveniently 'disappear' at the hands of Ian Nottingham if he kept digging.
Jake, who had been thinking much the same thing, nodded, relieved. Irons might have had an irreproachable reputation, but Nottingham did not. Digging too deep could land both of them in serious trouble. "No problem. All of this was a matter of public record, anyway."
Sara nodded. "Thanks, Jake."
"Are we pursuing this, Pez?" Jake asked, knowing that Sara had a habit of digging into some matters farther than was healthy and wondering how to dissuade her.
Sara shook her head slowly. "Um, not yet. Ask me again in a day or two..."
Surprised, but not displease, Jake nodded and reminded himself never to mention it to Sara again.
***
Between the horribly long day Sara had put in at work and a growing sense of disquiet, she returned home fully intending to skip the party. Irons, it seemed, had other plans. A woman in a chauffeur's uniform stood at the door of her apartment when she arrived, holding a large box.
"Who're you?"
"Detective Pezzini?" the woman asked, ignoring the question. "Mr. Irons asked me to deliver this to you and then bring you to the party."
Sara unlocked the door and then took the box from her, nodding for her to come inside.
"Oh, I forgot." She handed Sara a note.
Sara glanced down at it. The note was short, two words to be exact. I insist. She shook her head and carried the box into the apartment. Typical Irons. She knew him too well to be offended. It was just the way he was. He believed in going after the things he wanted, which, to her increasing annoyance, seemed to include Sara herself. She could only hope that his interest was genuinely limited to the Witchblade.
"Come in..." she sighed, carrying the box into her bedroom. "Just make yourself comfortable!" she called. "I'll be out in a minute."
She dropped the box on her bed and opened it. An off-red, sleeveless gown lay inside. She brushed her hands over the silky fabric, frowning thoughtfully, wondering if Irons had picked it because it exactly matched the shade of red in the stone on the Witchblade. She picked the dress up and stood in front of the mirror with it. She experienced a brief vision of Ian and Cailean in an upscale boutique, examining dresses.
Shrugging, and reminding herself that she still wanted to talk to Cailean, she changed into the dress, which fit her perfectly. She examined herself in the mirror for a moment, feeling as ridiculous as she was sure that she looked.
"Looking good, Sara..."
She turned around, startled. "Danny?" She frowned. "How long have you been there?"
He shrugged. "Don't worry. I, um, turned around when you were changing." He gave her a teasing smile.
"Hmm..." Sara stared at him thoughtfully, not believing for a moment that Danny would have looked in on her changing. "I see dead people, you get to see naked people?"
Danny smiled innocently. "Nice dress, Sara."
Sara shook her head and wondered what she was going to wear on her feet. She looked into the box and pulled out a pair of matching shoes. She sat down and slid them onto her feet. Not surprisingly, they also fit perfectly. "I'll give Irons this, he does know how to get a woman's attention." She stared into the mirror again. "What should I do with my hair, Danny?"
"Wear it down..." Danny suggested, smiling. "Can I come?"
"What?" Sara turned around, grinning in surprise. Danny never hung around for more than a few seconds.
"Do you mind the company?" Danny smiled at her. "I know that you hate these formal things. Couldn't hurt to have a friendly face around."
Sara picked up her hairbrush and stared at him with a confused smile. "What's up with you, Danny?"
He shrugged, trying to look innocent.
"Oh, don't give me that, Danny. I know you better. You know I can see right through you."
Danny let out a startled yelp and glanced down at himself with feigned embarrassment.
"Come on, Danny. What's going on."
"Maybe I just want to spend a quiet evening with my partner." He smiled at her. "Come on, Sara. I just like keeping an eye on you." He paused, his smile wavering. "I'm not the only one, you know."
Sara frowned, then nodded. "Ian Nottingham."
Danny nodded. "You know?"
She nodded. "He's been stalking me since I found this thing. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if he's been stalking me before I found it."
Danny nodded. "Just so you know."
Sara smiled at him. "You want to come, Danny, you can come. But I can take care of myself. Compared to some of the stuff I've seen in the past year, a dress-ball is going to be the least of my worries." She grinned.
"Sara, I've seen you try to walk in heels. Shoot-outs are minor in comparison."
Sara laughed. "It's not a big deal, Danny. It's a social gathering. Perfectly safe and harmless."
"Depends on who's there." From his voice, Danny was clearly worried.
"Who don't you trust, Danny?" Sara asked, frowning. "Nottingham or Irons?"
Danny answered without hesitation. "Irons."
Sara nodded and finished brushing her hair. "I'm way ahead of you on that one, partner. I haven't trusted him since the word go." She looked at herself in the mirror once more. "Ready?" When she turned around, Danny was no longer wearing his turtleneck, but, for some bizarre reason, a velvet smoking-jacket. "Looking good..." she muttered, grinning.
Danny smiled. "Wouldn't want to be underdressed."
Sara smiled, glad that he was coming. Dead or not, he remained her partner and best friend, and his presence was comforting and reassuring.
***
Sara was escorted to the lounge where the party was being held by a Vorschlag Industries security guard. With Ian and Cailean attending the party, the house was being guarded by a number of guards from the office. Sara had never been inside this lounge before, but it was in keeping with the rest of the home: classy, well-appointed, and just short of ostentatious. It was on the third story of the home, and somewhat larger than the sitting-room, which was just as well considering that it now housed almost fifty people. His version of a 'small' welcome-home party, obviously. Sara absently wondered how many people in the room Cailean actually knew.
Contemporary jazz poured from unseen speakers, and waiters circulated with trays full of drinks and various types of food. There was not a dress or suit in the room worth less than two months of her salary. Irons was standing in the center of the room, surrounded by a small knot of young women. She recognized several faces: talking heads from VCN, members of the fortune 500, local businessmen and political leaders. Cailean and Ian stood by themselves near a window, quietly talking to each other with bowed heads and generally ignoring everyone else in the room. Sara looked around uncertainly for a moment before entering.
She felt like Cinderella five seconds after midnight, only a lot more out of place. A handful of men and women had noticed her entrance and were staring at her. She knew exactly what they were thinking, too. You don't belong here.
Danny shook his head. "Personally, I wouldn't be caught dead at one of these
Sara shook her head, glad for his quiet presence to comfort her. "Come on, Danny..." she muttered. "Like I'm out of place enough already without laughing at your jokes and talking to you."
"You mean like you are now?" Danny grinned. "Hey, would you mind requesting something by the Grateful Dead?"
Sara ignored him. She noticed that Cailean and Ian had stopped talking and were looking curiously in her direction. She frowned self-consciously, wondering what was wrong with her appearance. She grew immediately annoyed with herself, since she never got worked up over her appearance. Cailean muttered something to Ian and nodded in Sara's direction. It took Sara a moment to realize that Cailean was indicating something behind her. She turned around curiously, wondering what they were looking at.
"What, do I have something stuck in my teeth?" Danny asked, grinning self-consciously.
"No. They just know a dead-beat party-crasher when they see one..." Sara muttered, shaking her head. "What are they looking at?"
He shrugged.
Sighing, she started across the room to join Ian and Cailean as the only two people at the party that she 'knew'. Irons spotted her and moved to intercept her.
"Ah, so good of you to come, Detective!" He smiled cheerfully at her and took her arm, walking with her towards Ian and Cailean. "Your dress is quite lovely. I must say that I love that color on you."
"Thanks." Sara smiled politely, ignoring what was obviously a reference to the Witchblade and the fact that Danny was giving Irons a dirty look. "Did you pick it out?"
Irons shook his head regretfully. "Ian, I'm told."
"Really?" Sara asked, wondering how she could get his hands off of her arm without seeming rude. She fleetingly wondered how a man could be so personable and attractive yet still leave her feeling almost unclean every time he touched her. She was grateful that Danny was close by.
She glanced at Ian and Cailean. They remained where they were, but were obviously waiting for Sara and Irons to join them. She wondered fleetingly how Ian had known her size, but after all this time, it was hardly surprising that he knew everything about her. She had given up wondering about that after he had stocked her kitchen the day before the Periculum.
He nodded. "They both have impeccable taste. They clean up well, too." He nodded in their direction with obvious pride in his creations.
Sara looked at Ian and Cailean and silently agreed with his assessment. In spite of her bruises and split lip, Cailean looked stunningly attractive in her cream-colored, off-the-shoulder gown with matching elbow-length gloves. Sara had not noticed before how tall she was, almost as tall as Ian. Her hair was pulled back in a neat bun and she carried herself like a queen. Not a trace of the woman that Sara had spoken to at the police station the previous day remained. She was calm and controlled and seemed completely in her element.
Danny thought that, if it had not been for the bruises, she would have looked like Audrey Hepburn in the movie Breakfast at Tiffany's.
Ian looked slightly less comfortable, but no less attractive in his black suit. His hair was pulled cleanly back, and his beard and moustache had been trimmed so that he no longer appeared at all scruffy. The overall difference between the Ian Nottingham standing before her and the Ian Nottingham that she usually interacted with was a little startling, if not entirely unpleasant. She wondered why she had never before noticed that he really was quite attractive. He regarded Sara with wide eyes for a moment before dropping his head. She was simply too beautiful to look at.
Ian... Cailean reminded him gently. Party manners. Head up, eyes forward.
Ian looked up at Sara and bowed politely before straightening. He could not quite bring himself to look Sara in the eye, but he smiled and nodded politely. "Good evening, Detective..." he said quietly. He hoped that he would be allowed to fade into the shadows soon. He hated parties, and could sense that she seemed to as well. It was faintly reassuring.
"Hey, Nottingham." Sara smiled at him, sensing his discomfort and sympathizing with it.
Cailean smiled at Sara, silently approving Ian's composure. She extended her hand, ready to play the role of hostess, as her master required her to. "It's lovely to see you again, Detective, especially under such vastly improved circumstances."
Ian nodded in hesitant agreement. "Yes..."
Sara nodded and shook Cailean's hand. "It's good to see both of you again as well. You, too, Mister Irons."
"Please, fair Sara, Kenneth. For tonight at least."
From behind Ian and Cailean, Danny shoved his index-finger into his mouth. He winked at Sara and rolled his eyes.
Sara nodded, biting her lip. "Kenneth..." she said slowly, disliking the way the word felt as it came out of her mouth. And had he actually just called her 'fair Sara'? Freak.
Ian, would you like to speak to her? Dance with her?
With Lady Sara? Here? Ian could feel his heart beating faster, even though he very much wished to be able to speak privately to Sara, about anything at all. The thought of dancing with her was equally appealing, but also frightening. His palms were sweating and his heart racing. Dancing with Cailean in private, even in public, was one thing. Dancing with any other woman, and especially with Sara, was another entirely. He would be lucky not to pass out or otherwise make a fool of himself.
Be calm... Cailean murmured reassuringly. You are a fine dancer. And on the dance-floor, all are equal.
I'll do my best to remember that, Cailean. Thank you for this opportunity. I think...
Do not think that I will not expect a favor in kind later on, big brother. Smiling at Irons, Cailean lightly touched his arm. "Would you care to dance, my Master?" she asked sweetly, smiling up at him.
Irons stared at her in genuine surprise. "Very much, my dear. If you'll excuse us, Detective..." He smiled at Sara and took Cailean's hand, leading her towards the dance-floor.
As Cailean and Irons walked by, Cailean smiled at Ian and Sara. "You know, Ian, it would be impolite not to offer the lady at least one dance."
Irons watched, amused by Ian's obvious discomfort. He smiled malevolently. "Yes, Ian. Why don't you invite fair Sara to dance?" With that, he escorted Cailean onto the dance floor, smiling smugly.
Ian turned to face Sara, drawing a very deep breath. Slowly, he extended his hand. "Detective, would you care to dance?" he asked softly, half expecting her to reject him.
"Long-haired bad boys, Sara…" Danny muttered. Sara ignored him.
Comforted by the fact that he was as uncomfortable as he was, Sara smiled and slid her hand into his. "Love to, Nottingham."
Sara had not felt this nervous since her senior prom. Come to think of it, that had been the last time she had worn a dress and heels. Ian and Cailean had been thoughtful enough to keep the heels low, so her balance was not suffering, but the last time she had danced had been with her father at a policeman's ball. Fortunately for them both, his limp seemed much better, so as long as the music stayed relatively slow, they would both be fine.
Ian swallowed hard, nodding. He was not wearing his gloves, and the feel of her hands in his was exhilarating. He smiled nervously and led Sara onto the dance-floor, both anticipating and dreading what was to come.
