Chapter 5 -- Visions

"No gloves?" Sara asked quietly as they found an isolated corner of the dance-floor. Both wanted to draw as little attention to themselves as possible. Mercifully, the music was far slower than it had been when Sara had entered the room, so nothing too fancy would be required of her tonight.

"Formal-wear..." Ian shrugged and cautiously put one hand on her waist. He looked as if he expected her, at the very least, to slap him for his presumption. He had never felt so nervous before, over anything.

Sara smiled reassuringly and rested her hand on his shoulder before taking his other one. She smiled faintly, as much to hide her own nervousness as anything. Dancing with an assassin was definitely not how she had planned on spending her evening.

"Leave room for the Holy Spirit, Sara..." Danny laughed, followed by, "Hey, how come you never dance with me?"

Sara ignored the comment, but not the advice. "You dance much, Nottingham?" she asked as they assumed a safe distance from one another.

He shook his head. "Only when Cailean is about." Right, Nottingham, it's only been ten years, so it's not like you need to worry about making an ass of yourself in front of Lady Sara.

Sara nodded and glanced at Cailean and Irons. Irons seemed completely absorbed in whatever Cailean was saying. Ian also noticed this, and was duly grateful to Cailean for it.

"I should warn you that it's been years since I've danced..." Sara admitted. "And I don't do heels very well."

"That's an understatement..." Danny contributed, grinning. Again, Sara ignored him.

Ian nodded reassuringly. "Simply follow my lead and tell me if you need me to slow down. You just need to find your feet, then you'll do fine." It seemed odd to him to be reassuring Sara Pezzini, of all people. She was normally the one who was confident and in control of every situation. It added to his own confidence that she was as ill at ease as he himself was.

Sara nodded gratefully. "Irons teach the two of you to dance?" she asked as Ian cautiously pulled her fractionally closer so that he could lead better. It was a little surprising considering that he had not come this close to her since that night in the alley right after they had met. Surprising, but also nice since this time he was not being his usual, cryptic self.

"Our tutors taught us at his insistence..." Ian explained, staring over her shoulder. After a brief pause, he added, "I did not expect that you would want to dance with me. Thank you for accepting." He paused. "Why did you?" he asked quietly.

Sara frowned, surprised at how hesitant he seemed, both in what he said and how he said it. Almost like the school nerd at his first dance with a girl. She smiled up at him, hoping to get him to relax somewhat. "My father once said that, on the dance-floor, everyone is equal."

He smiled, surprised not only by the phrase, but by the fact that Sara had actually smiled at him. It was something that she should have done more often, he thought. "Cailean said the same thing."

Sara smiled back. She had never seen him smile before, which she now reflected was a shame. The man had a gorgeous smile. She nodded. "It must be true then." After a moment, she observed, "You're really very good." He was impressive, there was no doubt about that. He danced almost as well as he fought, and, although she never would have admitted it, she loved to watch him in action.

Ian flushed and stared at his feet.

Sara stared at him in surprised confusion. "Hey, Nottingham. Relax." She gave him a reassuring grin.

"Forgive me." Ian gave her an apologetic look. "I'm unaccustomed to flattery."

Sara smiled reassuringly. "I noticed." The song changed to a slower one. Ignoring the expression on Danny's face, Sara moved a little closer to Ian, enjoying his proximity. For some odd reason, it seemed very right and very familiar "You any good at the slow ones?"

"Cailean says so. But she's highly biased."

"Better let me be the judge, then..." Sara said, sliding her arms around him.

Ian let out a small gasp.

Sara pulled away quickly, startled. She had guessed that he would not be big on physical contact, but his reaction seemed excessive. "Hey, sorry. I didn't mean to..."

He shook his head. "Forgive me, it wasn't you. I injured my back recently."

"Oh." Sara slid closer to him again, placing her hands on his shoulders from the front instead of wrapping them around his back. "Better?" she asked quietly.

"Much..." he whispered, slowly placing his hands on her back.

Although it felt familiar to hold her so close, Ian felt himself growing increasingly nervous. It was not that he was not enjoying himself. In fact, he was enjoying himself too much, against all of his training. Irons would have been furious with him had he known, but the pleasure of holding Sara close made his master's wrath seem like a minor consideration. It was even more than he had imagined it would be. Her body was soft and yielding against his and her hair tickled his face. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the almond-like scent of her hair and feeling like his body was on fire. Given the choice, he would never have let her go.

Sara was also enjoying herself, although, unlike Ian, she was not completely distressed by the fact. Admittedly, for a cop there was something vaguely unsettling about being attracted to a paid assassin, but, as she had said, on the dance-floor, all are equal. He was an undeniably good dancer, and being close to him was comfortable. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his muscular chest, enjoying everything about being close to him, even the fact that he wore no cologne, so the only thing she could smell as she leaned into him was him. It was strange and a little scary seeing him as a man for a change, instead of just regarding him as a paid assassin and loyal servant to a man she could not stand. Part of her wanted to retreat from the situation, but the part of her that was leaning against him and noticing how muscular he actually was overruled that.

Ian stared down at her, startled and a little confused. He had thought that she was simply being polite in agreeing to dance with him, but clearly she was enjoying herself almost as much as he was. And she did not seem to think that there was anything wrong with that. Her right hand was draped over his shoulder in such a way that the Witchblade was touching his shoulder. He lowered his head, resting his cheek against the stone, and against the smooth skin of her hand. The feeling was almost euphoric.

The stone was cool against his flushed cheek at first, but he felt it warm quickly against his face.

Abruptly, Sara found herself running through a tunnel, fighting off armed opponents. She had had the vision before, but this time it felt more immediate, more real. Running in the armor was almost painful. It was heavy and jarred with every step she took. The tunnel was musty-smelling, and the dancing torchlight disoriented her, made it hard to see more than a few paces in front of her. As she approached the end of the gauntlet, she became aware of a fully-armored knight standing at the end of the tunnel, waiting patiently. Her last test. She reached the other end of the corridor and regarded the knight waiting there apprehensively. He raised his visor, revealing the face of Ian Nottingham. She stared at him uncertainly, not raising her Blade against him, unsure what to do. She knew that she was supposed to attack him, it was part of the test, but she could not bring herself to. She lowered her weapon in confusion. He stared at her expressionlessly for a moment.

"Now, fair Lady, you begin to learn." Unexpectedly, he smiled at her, laying his sword aside.

"But, I don't understand..." she protested. "What have I learned? I haven't defeated you."

"There is more to being a warrior than knowing how to fight. There is also knowing when to fight." He took her hand and gently kissed it, causing her heart to leap into her throat.

Abruptly the vision shifted, and she was standing on an empty dance-floor with her knight. This time, the torchlight was comforting instead of intimidating, and the smell was not one of decay but of the recently cleared-away feast. Sara was not entirely sure if she and her knight were the same people as in the previous vision, but it hardly mattered. It was her and Ian. She was dressed in a light-green gown, he in a matching outfit of darker green. They danced together as if there was no one else in the world.

"I could remain in your arms forever..." she whispered to her knight, smiling radiantly at him. She had never been so happy as she was at this moment, in the arms of the man who she was meant for and who was meant for her.

"Only forever?" he asked with mock disappointment, drawing her close and smiling lovingly at his Lady fair. The only woman he ever had loved. The only woman he ever would. "Let us leave this place, milady..." he suggested. "Would you honestly rather spend your wedding night dancing?" he asked with a teasing smile.

"I'm afraid..." she admitted, bowing her head.

"Do not be, milady." He drew her into a tender embrace. "I am as inexperienced as you. We will learn together."

"Together..." she whispered, nodding and smiling shyly. "Just as we always have been."

"And always will be..." he agreed, leading her from the room.

It was hard to tell whose hands were shaking worse in the bridal-chamber as he unlaced her dress and laid her out on the bed, but nervousness quickly left them. It was right, natural, and exactly as it had been in all of their lives before this one. They acted from an instinct that was half memory, amazing themselves and each other with the sensations that each tentative caress evoked. Encouraged by the success of these experiments, they quickly grew bolder. She pulled him onto her and eagerly rose to meet him, crying out in unison with him.

Sara stumbled in Ian's arms, as shocked by the vision as by its intensity and the feelings that it had evoked. She was honestly amazed that she had managed to refrain from screaming Ian's name. Ian stared at her with such shock that, for a moment, she was sure that he had also experienced the vision. She reminded herself that it was impossible as she composed herself. He was probably just surprised that she had stumbled.

"Sara?" Danny asked, concerned. "Are you okay? What happened."

Ian was left reeling by the vision. He had never experienced anything even remotely close to the sensations he just had. It had been the most amazing experience of his life, the most alive he had felt in years.

Shaking off his own amazement at the vision, he gently took her arms and walked her to an empty chair. "Are you well?" he asked softly, grabbing a glass of wine from a passing waiter and handing it to Sara. "Here, drink this..." He dropped to one knee in front of the chair and looked up at her anxiously.

"Thanks, Nottingham." Sara smiled gratefully and took a sip. "Just... dizzy." This comment was directed as much to Danny as to Ian. She was not sure that she wanted to admit that particular vision to either man.

Ian  nodded shakily. Having shared the vision with her, he knew she was lying, but he accepted it without comment, not entirely sure how to react himself. She may well have been dizzy, for he certainly was, dizzy and more than dizzy. His brain and body were on fire, and being so close to Sara was only making matters worse. He was confused, not sure what to make of the thoughts and feelings chasing each other through his brain. He struggled hard to compose himself, finally achieving some semblance of his normal composure.

After an awkward moment of silence, he spoke. "I'm... um, I understand that your guardian angel is in attendance this evening?" he said to change the subject.

Sara blinked in surprise, looking from Ian to the very startled-looking Danny and back to Ian. "Um, yeah. How'd you..."

"Cailean saw him with you when you entered and informed me of it."

"Oh..." Sara said softly, trying to wrap her brain around the idea that Cailean could possibly see Danny as well. The Witchblade allowed Sara to see him, but normal people simply did not see ghosts. Or, if they did, they did not readily admit to it. Yet, Ian, who apparently could not see Danny, accepted that Cailean could. She rubbed her head in confusion.

"Are you still feeling poorly?" Ian asked, obviously concerned. "Perhaps some fresh air..."

She nodded. "Yeah. That would probably help."

Ian rose and helped her to her feet. "I'll show you to the veranda." He hesitated, wondering, if the vision had disturbed her, if she would want to spend any more time with him, especially alone. "If that's agreeable?"

She nodded, a little surprised by his hesitancy. "Yeah, that's just fine, Nottingham."

"This way, please, Detective." Ian led her through the crowded room and onto the veranda. It was not lost on him that Cailean kept Irons distracted as he did so. She, too, would have been aware of everything that had just transpired with Sara, but she managed to keep her composure and throw herself entirely into the task of keeping Irons distracted.

Concerned by Sara's apparent dizzy-spell, Danny followed closely as Ian led her onto the empty veranda and stood next to the door, keeping his head down, but his eyes on Sara. He was worried about her. Both men were. She stepped into the cool night air and rested her hands on the guardrail, inhaling deeply. Roses grew up the trellis, and the warm night air seemed to magnify their scent. A gentle breeze ruffled her hair before reaching Ian, cooling his flushed face and delivering into his nose a mixture of the scent of roses and of Sara's almond-scented shampoo. Ian inhaled the scent deeply and, not entirely believing his own presumption or rashness, stepped forward, moving to stand next to her on her right.

"Are the visions always so troubling?" he asked softly, eyes cast downwards. He was relatively certain that Sara had no idea that he had shared the vision with her, and he had no wish to embarrass her by imparting this knowledge on her, yet he hoped that she might, of her own accord, discuss the vision with him.

Sara looked up, startled. Even in the absolute silence of the veranda, she had not heard him approach. Her eyes darted to her left, to Danny.

"It's okay, Sara..." Danny reassured her, nodding. He was not entirely sure how he knew that it was okay, but he felt it. Ian Nottingham might have been a longhaired bad-boy, but he clearly cared for Sara very much, and that was enough to commend him in Danny's eyes.

"They, uh, have their moments, Nottingham." She frowned uncertainly, wondering how he had known that it had been a vision and not a dizzy-spell that had caused her to stumble.

He nodded in understanding, staring into the darkness. "You must learn to control the visions, Lady Sara. I can help you."

She stared at him, startled. "What? How?"

He bowed his head again. "A great part of my training has been dedicated to mental discipline. These things I can show you if you will allow me."

She stared at him in complete confusion. Part of her, Pez the homicide Detective, wanted nothing more than to get away from this bizarre man with his contradictory and anachronistic behaviors. This part of her mind insisted that he was dangerous, to be avoided. It reminded her who he worked for and told her not to trust him. Another part of her, fair Lady Sara the Wielder, was inexorably drawn to his quiet hesitancy, attracted to him for all the little ways in which he protected and served her, compelled by the vision she had just had and eager to repeat it in this lifetime as well.

Ian seemed to sense the internal conflict. He spoke quietly, reassuringly. "This offer does not expire. If ever you require my aid or assistance in any way, you need only ask and it shall be yours."

Sara blinked in surprise. While he spoke, she did not see Ian Nottingham, assassin, but the knight from her visions. "Um... thanks, Nottingham."

He nodded politely. "Are you prepared now to return?" he asked, worried that Irons might have noticed their absence by now but hoping that she would not yet be ready to return.

"Uh, no, not yet..." Sara shook her head, oddly reluctant to return to the crowed party, preferring to spend just a few more minutes alone with Nottingham. Or almost alone. Danny was still hovering anxiously. "If you don't mind, I'd like to stay out here for a few more minutes."

Ian nodded and half-bowed. "I do not mind, Lady Sara."

"Why do you call me that, Nottingham?"

He looked up, startled. "Does it offend you?"

Sara frowned, surprised by the question. "No. I just don't... get it. What makes me so..." She paused, struggling for words to express what she felt. He thought that she was special, but he was wrong. He had to be. She was only Sara. "Why am I even worthy to be called that?" she asked, wishing that she could, honestly, be worthy of his quiet attentions. She had never felt that way about a man before in her life. Always before, it had been the man's job to prove himself to her, which might have explained her lack of long-term relationships. Only Danny had ever completely lived up to the high standards she set, yet she had never really been attracted to him. With Ian, it was different, completely unique in her experience.

Ian stared at her for a moment, wide-eyed. How could she not know how special she truly was? He abruptly slid to one knee and took her right hand in both of his, glancing momentary at the Witchblade before staring up at her gravely. "Even if this had never fallen to you, even if you had never been judged worthy of the Witchblade, Lady Sara, you would remain worthy of my respect." He dropped his head, staring at the ground. "And of my dedication..." he whispered. He took a deep breath before continuing. "You are... everything that a Wielder should be and more. You are strong and just, yes, but also compassionate and kind, loyal, understanding, determined..." he trailed off, at a loss for words to describe the woman standing before him.

Sara drew a deep breath, torn and more than a little confused. Although part of her was distinctly unsettled by this display, another part of her insisted that it was right, natural. That it had happened before and would again and was exactly as it should be.

Moved by the mood of the moment and by the emotions still fresh from the vision that he had shared with her, Ian tenderly kissed her hand, only adding to Sara's confusion. That felt right, too, and that scared her. Feeling for him in a vision was one thing, but translating that into real life was new to her. He felt her hand tense in his grasp and abruptly dropped it.

"Forgive me..." he muttered, rising and turning away, ashamed by his conduct.

Sara stared at him, confused. And men accused her of giving off mixed signals. "Um... no, Nottingham, it's okay." She smiled at him and caught his hands, pulling him close. "You want to finish that dance now?" she suggested gently.

He stared at her with wide eyes for several minutes before slowly nodding. Danny watched the exchange, shaking his head and wondering if Sara had the slightest idea how badly Ian was gone on her.

"I would... like that very much..."

"Ask him about Cailean..." Danny suggested as they danced. "It might be the only chance you have to get either of them alone without Irons hovering around..."

Sara nodded and asked the first question that sprang to mind. "You said that Cailean can see Danny?"

"Danny?" Ian asked.

"My ex-partner. My, um... my guardian angel." Sara smiled at Danny who bowed his head, embarrassed.

Ian nodded. "Yes. She can see and hear him quite clearly."

"Can you?" Sara asked.

"Not as clearly as Cailean. For me it's... usually more of an awareness that he's here. It depends on where we are. I saw his reflection quite clearly in a window once during a thunderstorm."

Danny nodded in confirmation. "During the Periculum."

"But Cailean can see him all the time?"

Ian nodded.

"Can she see... other ghosts, too?"

"Yes."

Sara frowned curiously. "How?"

Ian nodded slowly. "Cailean... she's always had a very... advanced understanding of matters of life and death." He frowned thoughtfully. "It is... difficult to explain. She understands a great deal."

"Like what?" Sara asked, curious.

Ian hesitated, wondering if Sara could ever accept him as a man once he told her what he was about to. "Both of us have had certain... changes made to our brains. Drugs and therapies designed to enhance certain aspects of our performance..."

"When you were in the Black Dragons?" Sara nodded. "Loyalty, strength, speed, aggression, yeah."

Ian blinked, startled that she seemed already to know about these changes and was willing to accept them without comment. "Yes. Similar types of changes were made to Cailean at the same time."

"To make her a better soldier?" Sara asked.

Ian nodded, then shook his head. "Only in part. Aggression was not considered a desirable trait in Cailean the way that it was in the Black Dragons."

Sara frowned thoughtfully. "Why?"

"With Cailean, the object was to render her into a warrior who would be completely... controllable." Ian's voice was quiet, bitter.

Sara experienced another vision. A girl of sixteen, dressed in jeans and a black turtleneck, knelt in front of a massive fireplace as a man brandished the Witchblade at her. Sara could not see the man's face, but his hair was snowy white. The girl was clearly a young Cailean. The man had to have been Irons, since she recognized the fireplace as the one in his sitting-room.

"Just put it on..." Irons hissed, throwing it at her.

The vision dissolved and Sara looked up at Ian, startled. "Irons wanted Cailean to be the next Wielder?"

Ian nodded. "Once he saw what I was capable of, it occurred to him that a sister of mine might be the perfect Wielder. If he could control her. He tried to force her to wear it, but could not. She refused even to try."

"So Irons was never able to make her wear it?"

Ian shook his head. "Cailean endured much at his hands as he tried to force her, but she won. She was very brave. The Witchblade has never adorned her wrist." Ian was both proud of Cailean's ability to resist Irons and ashamed that he had never been able to equal her in that respect.

"Wow..." Sara muttered, staring over her shoulder in the direction of the party. "Standing up to Irons like that is gutsy. Especially as a kid."

Ian nodded. "Cailean has always been stronger than I..." he whispered. "And she fears very little."

"You don't exactly strike me as the type of guy who's beset by fears, Nottingham. You risked your life to help me out with Conchabar."

Ian considered this for a moment before shaking his head. "We all have fears, Detective. Some have more and some less. The fact that I willingly walked into a gun-battle doesn't change that. My only thought was of protecting you."

Sara looked up at him. "Why did you, though?"

"I told you, to protect you."

"But why?" Sara asked softly.

Ian closed his eyes, struggling to define exactly what it was that he felt for Sara that made him want to be with her yet also willing to risk his life to protect her lover. It made no sense, so he went with the easy answer. "You are the Wielder. It is my duty to protect you."

Sara frowned. "Just like that? Unquestioningly?"

He nodded gravely.

Ian, you're about to have company... Cailean warned.

Ian abruptly pulled away from Sara. "He comes..." he muttered in hasty apology.

Sara frowned at him uncomprehendingly until Irons and Cailean walked onto the veranda. She frowned curiously at Ian, wondering how his hearing could possibly be good enough to have heard them approaching from inside.

"Ah, here they are!" Irons said cheerfully.

Ian bowed regretfully to Sara and joined Cailean near the door. They stood on either side of the entrance like a pair of sentinels, watching Irons expressionlessly.

Is he angry with me, Cailean?

No, Ian. He has no idea how long the two of you have been out here alone. He thinks that it has been only a few seconds.

Thanks, no doubt, to you?

When he noticed that you were no longer there, I told him that you had just left.

Sara nodded to Irons. "Hey. Sorry to cut out like that, but I was feeling kind of dizzy. Thought some fresh air might help."

"Indeed?" Irons asked, frowning. He rearranged his features into an expression of concern. "Are you still feeling dizzy, Sara?"

She shook her head. "Not really. The fresh air helped."

"That's good to know." Irons nodded. He glanced at Ian and Cailean. "Children, you may go now."

Recognizing an order when they heard one, Ian and Cailean turned and left. Sara regarded Irons cautiously, once more glad for Danny's quiet presence.

Irons approached Sara. "Do you often suffer dizzy spells, Sara?" he asked curiously. He had been to distracted by Cailean to share the sensations that the vision on the dance-floor had evoked in Sara. As far as he was concerned, there had been no vision; Sara had merely become dizzy.

She shook her head. "No."

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "If they persist, you should consider consulting a doctor. I can give you the name of an excellent one."

"Thanks, but I seriously doubt that I could afford the kind of doctor that you see."

"For you, I'm sure he'd be willing to waive his fee."

Sara looked at him dubiously. "What's the catch?"

"No catch." Irons smiled benignly. "I'm merely protecting my interests."

Sara nodded, knowing that he was talking about the Witchblade. "Thanks. If they don't go away, I'll let you know." She smiled insincerely.

Irons smiled back. "I do hope Ian behaved himself out here..." he remarked casually.

Sara frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

Irons smiled like an indulgent father. "You mean you hadn't noticed? Poor Ian has... developed something of a school-boy crush on you, fair Sara. School-boy crushes and Ian's level of social ineptitude tend to make a bad combination."

Sara frowned, but not at the revelation that Ian had a crush on her, which, coming from Irons, could easily be a lie. Instead, she was disgusted by Irons, by the way he had treated Ian earlier, by the way he was acting now, and by Irons in general. He always had been and always would be a manipulative bastard. Mentioning that Ian had a crush on her was just one more way of trying to manipulate her behavior, even though she was not sure to what end. She doubted that Ian was attracted to her simply because Irons had said it, but she also found herself strangely disappointed by the thought that he might not be. She pushed away thoughts of Ian and everything he must suffer with Irons as a master.

"Tell me something, Irons. Sorry... Kenneth." She smiled. "How is it that Nottingham ended up so socially inept while his sister is quite comfortable playing the belle of the ball?"

Irons smiled. "Ah, well you see, Sara, in Cailean's case, a certain amount of social grace is required. Her main purpose with Vorschlag Industries is to represent my professional interests abroad. This often necessitates attendance at various social functions."

"Whereas bodyguards and enforcers don't really need to go to parties a lot."

Irons smiled and nodded. "Precisely, although I assure you, Ian has had every opportunity to broaden his scope in that regard. He's simply never had the inclination, and I've never seen the need to force him in that direction."

Sara sensed that this was a lie, but she let it go. "Cailean is... quite a woman."

Irons smiled proudly. "Isn't she, though? I daresay that she's in a position to far surpass her brother's accomplishments quite soon."

The Witchblade grew warm on her wrist as Irons spoke, and Sara slid her arm behind her back. "In what way?" she asked curiously. "What makes your girl special?"

Irons smiled more widely, gratified by her interest in his possession. "Well, as an example, Cailean is Ian's equal in the martial arts. Ian is the stronger of the two, but Cailean beats Ian by far in endurance and pain-tolerance. These things usually allow her to prevail over her brother. However, her real superiority lies in her chameleon-like behaviors. Like Ian, she can hide in the shadows, but Cailean can also hide in plain view. She becomes exactly what I require her to become, which makes her the ideal spy."

"Would that be part of 'representing your professional interests abroad'?" Sara asked quietly.

"You disapprove, Sara?" Irons asked gently.

"I never said that."

Irons smiled vaguely. "What you must understand, fair Sara, is that business is not a dreadfully civilized thing. It requires a certain degree of ruthlessness. With Cailean, I can cut throats and stab backs without having to... cut throats and stab backs." He smiled at her.

Sara nodded. "So Cailean is... what, just another tool to help you run your business?"

Irons laughed and nodded. "Precisely, Sara. Cailean and Ian. My most valuable possessions."

"Ah..." Sara nodded slowly, disgusted by his cavalier attitude, but hoping that his expansive mood would last long enough for her to get more information on the two. "And how did you... acquire them?"

Irons regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. "That, fair Sara, is a conversation for another night."

Sara shrugged. "Okay. I'll make an appointment."

He smiled widely. "For you, fair Sara, no appointment is required."

"Aww... Isn't that sweet?" Danny remarked, clearly as disgusted by Irons as Sara herself was.

"You know, Irons, people are going to start getting ideas about the two of us..." Sara muttered, disgusted by his continued use of the phrase 'fair Sara'. If he was trying to seduce her, it was not working. If he was trying to unsettle her, mission accomplished.

Irons stepped closer. "Well, we can't have that." He smiled down at her, taking her hands in his. "Can we?"

Sara shook her head slowly, nauseated by his touch. "You have lots of girlfriends... Kenneth. Boyfriends, too, I've heard. I don't have a problem with that, it's your business, but I am not about to join a harem."

"You tell him, Sara..." Danny muttered.

Irons smiled, clearly amused. "Say the word and I'll get rid of all of them." His voice was perfectly serious.

Danny chuckled softly. "You know, Sara, I'm betting that when he says 'get rid of them' he means get rid of them." The last 'get rid of them' was said in a Godfather-style accent. "If he kisses you on the mouth, I'm out of here, okay?"

Sara bit her lip to keep from smiling. "Sweet offer, but I'm still in mourning."

Irons nodded. "Of course you are." He smiled and patted her on the shoulder. "Are you still feeling poorly?"

"I'm a lot better, thanks."

"Splendid. Then you're ready to return to the party?" He offered her his arm.

Sara decided to forget for now that she still wanted to learn more about Cailean. She could no longer tolerate Irons or his touch. "Actually, I was thinking that I'd just go home. I'm still kind of beat."

Irons slid an arm around her shoulders. "Well, if you're still feeling poorly, then I can't, in conscience, send you home. You can stay in one of the guest-rooms and I'll have my personal physician look in on you in the morning."

"You do know that that's a really bad idea, Sara?" Danny muttered in obvious alarm. "This guy gets you alone and unconscious and there's no telling what he might do..."

Sara did not need any such warning. "You know, I really can't sleep anywhere but my own bed. It's this... quirk I have. I think I'll just go home." And take a long shower.

"And take a long shower..." Danny added, shaking his head. "Is this guy for real?"

"Of course, Sara. I'll call for a chauffer at once." He smiled at her and took her arm. "You can rest in the library until he arrives."

"Thanks." Sara allowed herself to be led by Irons even though her skin was crawling from his touch. Ian and Cailean had been waiting near the door and followed him to the library.

Irons led her into the library and helped her into a large wing-back chair. He turned to leave, then paused. "Will you be okay alone?"

"Um..." Although she hated the idea of Irons thinking of her as in any way helpless, she also wanted another opportunity to speak with Ian. "I don't know..."

Irons nodded. "Cailean, stay with her. Ian, come."

Ian bowed to Sara and followed Irons from the room.

"Can I offer you a drink, Detective?" Cailean asked quietly, kneeling near her chair.

"I'm fine, thanks."

Cailean nodded. "I approve your escort's taste in clothing..." she whispered. "The smoking-jacket was a nice touch." She smiled faintly in Danny's direction.

Danny shifted, feeling a little uncomfortable. "Hi." He waved uncertainly.

"Hello." Cailean smiled and returned her attention to Sara. "Did you enjoy your dance with Ian?" she asked.

Sara nodded. "He's a good dancer."

"As are you. The two of you are well-matched."

Sara smiled uncertainly. She had the distinct impression that Cailean was talking about something more than dancing.

Cailean continued blithely. "It was a shame that your... dizziness put a premature end to the dance." Having received from her brother a shallow reflection of what Sara and Ian had experienced together, she was not surprised that Sara had stumbled. Although she doubted that it was likely to come to pass in this lifetime, she fleetingly wished that the two could find some happiness in each other's arms.

Sara frowned at her, wondering if she could have known about the vision. It almost seemed that way from the way she had paused before saying the word 'dizziness'. It did not make very much sense that Cailean could have been aware of the vision, but, then, what in her life had made sense since she'd found the Witchblade. Her answer was noncommittal. "Yeah, it was."

"I confess myself curious about something, Detective..." Cailean began slowly.

"What's that?" Sara asked.

Cailean hesitated. She had been ordered by Irons to ask Sara this question. She could only hope that the Detective would have the good sense to lie. "What made you walk into my cell yesterday?" She gave Sara a warning look, hoping that it would be enough.

It took Sara a moment to realize that Cailean was warning her that they were being monitored. "I don't know." She shrugged. "You just looked helpless. My heart went out to you."

"Compassion, Detective?" Cailean asked.

Sara nodded. "Yeah. Compassion."

Cailean nodded as if this answer were satisfactory. "I see. I thank you for you kindness to me there."

"No problem." Sara shrugged uncomfortably. "So, how long are you going to be in town for?" she asked.

Cailean hesitated. "I do not yet know. My Master has not yet seen fit to tell me for what purpose I have been called here."

"What do you do for him, exactly?" Sara asked.

Cailean glanced at the ground. "Many things."

Sara had a series of rapid visions of Cailean. In one, she was in bed with Irons, eyes closed, biting her lip to keep from crying out in pain. In another, she was dropping a pill into a man's drink. In yet another, she crouched on a fire-escape using a parabolic microphone to eavesdrop on a conversation. A series of visions featured Cailean sitting in various board-rooms directing different meetings.

"I represent his professional interests abroad..." Cailean continued vaguely. "Among other things."

Sara shivered, repulsed by the image of the woman in bed with Irons. She could almost feel the pain and shame of the act. She did not push Cailean for a more detailed explanation of her duties. "So, Nottingham tells me that the two of you learned to dance together?"

Cailean nodded, grateful to Sara for changing the subject. "Yes. The lessons were very happy times for us." She smiled fondly.

Sara could not help but smile with the woman. "You two must love each other a great deal."

"Our first loyalty is to our Master."

Sara frowned, surprised by the answer that was not an answer at all. Was Irons really such a control-freak that he did not even allow siblings in his employ to love each other? If he was, he had failed, for Cailean and Ian clearly cared for each other very deeply.

Cailean looked up abruptly. "It's been good to talk to you, Detective."

Sara nodded, not bothering to press Cailean to talk further. The woman was less communicative than her brother if such a thing were possible.

A few moments later, Ian and Irons returned to the library.

"Your ride is here, Sara..." Irons informed her, extending his hand and helping her from the chair. As he walked her to the door, flanked by Ian and Cailean, he spoke. "Now, if you are not feeling 100% better by morning, I want you to call me and I'll have my personal physician pay you a visit."

"Thanks, Irons, but I really don't think that's necessary. I think I just need a good rest."

"I insist, Sara. If you still feel poorly, you must call."

Sara nodded to get him to leave her alone. "Sure thing, Irons."

He nodded and smiled. "Splendid. I'd offer to send Cailean along to see that you get safely to bed, but I'm afraid that she simply can't be spared here."

Sara seriously doubted that Irons would have given her such an opportunity to get Cailean alone. "That's okay, Irons. I'll be fine."

He nodded. "I certainly hope so."

Irons kissed her hand, an entirely different sensation from when Ian had kissed it. She would have compared it to being kissed by a snake, but that would have been an insult to reptiles everywhere.

Danny was sticking his finger in his mouth again and making gagging noises. As she turned her back to Irons, she mouthed 'shut up'. He shrugged and desisted.

"Good evening, Detective..." Cailean gently squeezed her hand. "Thank you for coming. I hope we'll see you again soon?"

Sara nodded slowly. "Yeah. Maybe."

She did not expect Ian to say anything as she pulled on her coat, but he did. He shook her hand. Both wished that he could have kissed it. "Good evening, Detective. Thank you for gracing us with your presence."

Sara smiled at him and nodded, reluctant to let go of his hand. "Thanks for the dance, Nottingham. Hope your back feels better."

Sara found herself engulfed in another vision. Ian knelt in front of the massive fireplace in the sitting-room, shirtless and with his back to Irons. His back was a mess, marked with dozens of recent lash-marks, most bruised and discolored.

"Who do you serve, young Nottingham?" Irons asked casually, twirling a lash in his hand.

"You, sir, and the Lady Sara."

"In that order!" Irons spat, raising the lash. "Never disobey me again!" He tore into Ian's back with blind fury until the man collapsed on the flagstone.

Sara reeled from the vision, pitching forward into Ian's arms.

"Forgive me..." he whispered urgently, for her ears only. "You were never meant to see that." He helped her right herself and half-carried her to a chair in the front hall.

Irons looked on in obvious distress. "Sara?" he asked uncertainly. "Are you in pain?" He was not, which meant that she could not be, but she certainly looked like she was in pain.

Sara shook her head, grateful that he had not tried to touch her again. She would not have been able to maintain what was left of her facade if he had. She looked at Ian in confusion, trying to understand what she had seen, but he was too ashamed to meet her eye.

Ian? Cailean asked.

She saw a vision of him lashing me for my disobedience. Ian's voice was full of shame that Sara had been forced to see the things that Irons put him through in the name of discipline. She could not be expected to understand why he put up with it. She would only think him weak because he did.

"Perhaps I should call a doctor..." Irons suggested.

Sara shook her head. "I just need to get into bed. I haven't been sleeping much lately..." she lied, hoping it would sound convincing.

"And you're sure you wouldn't rather stay here?" Irons asked.

"In your dreams, pal..." Danny muttered.

Sara shook her head. "No. I just want to go home."

"Very well..." Irons sighed and helped her into a limo, leaving the driver with orders to see her to her front door and make sure that she got inside okay.

"You okay, ma'am?" the driver asked, helping her into the back seat.

She nodded weakly, resting her head against the back of the seat. "Just fine. Long day, longer night."

He nodded and closed the door.

Danny looked down at Sara with obvious concern. "What's going on with you, Sara?" he asked. "You aren't sick, I'd be able to tell."

She nodded. "We'll talk about it when we get home, Danny..." she muttered, shaking her head.

He nodded slowly. "Are you okay?"

"Right now, Danny, I'm just tired. But... we'll talk. I promise. Just... not here. We'll talk."

Danny nodded. "I'm holding you to that, Sara."

Sara nodded and looked at him, but he was already gone. She sighed and shook her head, hoping that he would show up again after she got home. Although she had been reluctant to talk to him in the car, which, owned by Irons as it was, could well have been bugged, she very much wanted to talk to him, to get the visions off of her chest.