Chapter 7 -- Talismaniac

"Hey, Chief!" Gabriel said cheerfully, leaning into Sara's office and waving a large manila envelope in her direction. He was wearing one of his patented Gabriel Bowman outfits: white shirt with three or four buttons undone, paisley vest, embroidered bellbottoms, and platform shoes.

Sara looked up from the report she was filing. "Hey, Gabriel. Come in. Close the door." She grinned and waved him in, surprised, as always, by both his efficiency and his fashion sense. If it could really even be called that.

Gabriel nodded and slid into the office, closing the door behind him. "Where's your partner?" he asked, walking over to Sara and opening the envelope.

Sara shrugged. "Principal's office. Dante wanted him for something."

"Huh." Gabriel frowned. "Nothing wrong, I hope?" Her partner might have been a little uptight, but he seemed like a basically good guy who did not deserve Dante's brand of crap.

Sara shook her head. "Don't think so. At least, Jake didn't seem worried." She rose and grabbed a chair for him, pulling it next to her own and laying the paperwork aside. "That was quick..." she observed.

"It's called the internet." Gabriel grinned at her. "It's all about the, ah, free exchange of information."

Sara laughed. "So, what you got for me?" she asked, sitting down again.

Gabriel sat down and smiled up at her. "Two things, both pretty interesting." He riffled through the contents of the envelope before pulling out a sheet of glossy paper which contained a printout of what Sara saw was an ancient Roman mosaic. He flipped it over on the desk before she could get a good look at its contents. "This was done in the first century A.D. Depicts a woman who was a source of constant annoyance to the Romans." He cleared his throat and continued. "Queen Boedicia of the Celts. Gave the Witchblade to Cathain when she couldn't control it herself."

Gabriel turned it over, allowing Sara to see that the woman depicted in the mosaic looked almost identical to Cailean.

"I always figured she'd have red hair..." Sara muttered, a little confused to be looking at a 2000 year-old image of Cailean. She supposed that it really should not surprise her that much, considering that she had seen old and ancient images of herself as well. "Wow... Okay." She nodded. "You said that she..."

"Gave the Witchblade to Cathain when she realized that she herself could not control it." Gabriel nodded. "The two were supposed to have been pretty tight even before Cathain submitted herself as a candidate for the Witchblade."

"Tight like... friends?" Sara asked.

Gabriel nodded. "Boedicia kind of took Cathain under her wing. Her brother taught Cathain how to fight and--"

"Brother?" Sara interrupted, thinking of the visions of the previous night. 'Now you begin to learn' he had said. Had that been Boedicia's brother?

Gabriel nodded, not noticing her surprise. "Yeah. She'd have probably taught Cathain herself, except that she was busy organizing a massive resistance against the Romans at this time. She was one hell of a fighter herself, you know."

"Do we know anything about the brother?" Sara asked, thinking of the visions of the night before and wondering what kind of relationship she had shared with Nottingham in their previous lives. Had they been friends? Lovers, even? Well, obviously they had at least once, but was that normal or a fluke? Sara was faintly troubled that she even cared. She reminded herself that she was a cop, and that any relationship with Nottingham would be nothing but trouble.

Gabriel shook his head, not noticing Sara's reflective mood. "Not much. I can try to dig something up if you want."

Sara shook her head, not entirely sure that she was ready for the kind of answers that Gabriel might end up providing. "No, Gabriel, that's okay. Just curious."

He nodded. "Well, if I should come across anything, I'll let you know."

Sara nodded. "Thanks. That was good work, Gabriel."

He laughed and shook his head. "I said I had two things, Chief, remember?" he asked, always eager to impress Sara. He knew full well that she was never going to think of him as anything more than a 'good kid', a little brother who happened to also be a useful ally, but a guy could dream. He was happy with Sara as just a friend, but he occasionally wished for more even as he recognized the wish as unrealistic.

Sara nodded. "Right. What was the other one?"

"Here..."

Gabriel reached back into the envelope and pulled out a black and white photograph of a woman who looked just like Sara. From her style of clothing, she recognized her as Elizabeth Bronte, with her arm around the shoulder of a woman who looked like Cailean. Both women were smiling widely, and you could tell by the expressions on their faces that they were the best of friends.

Gabriel gave Sara a few minutes to absorb the contents of the picture before carrying on. "This picture was taken a few weeks before Bronte went to Germany. The woman with Bronte is Natasha Dmitrov, a Russian Jew by birth. Years earlier, Dmitrov had defected from Russian to England where she was to become a valuable and trusted member of their intelligence community. She was Bronte's spy-master when this picture was taken, taught her what she needed to know about the job she was being sent to do."

Sara stared at the picture intently, the Witchblade grew warm on her wrist and the stone became a swirling mass of color. She suddenly found herself engulfed in another vision.

Cailean, dressed in an early-40's business-suit, sat behind a desk, holding a framed picture. She looked up at Sara's entry. "Elizabeth. Thank you for coming. Have a seat." She set the picture down and rose. "Can I offer you a drink?"

"I wouldn't say no to a spot of that scotch you're rumored to keep on hand, Natasha."

Laughing, she poured Elizabeth a cup and handed it to her before sitting down again.

"Is that your brother?" Elizabeth asked, pointing to the picture. Natasha had mentioned him once or twice before. He had been in Poland at the time of his death, one of the first casualties of the German aggression, even before war had been formally declared.

Natasha nodded. "That's my Gregori." She handed the picture of the dark-haired man to Elizabeth.

"He looks familiar..." Elizabeth remarked quietly. "What beautiful eyes..."

Natasha smiled sadly, nodding. "You would have liked him, I think, and he you."

Elizabeth nodded. "He looks like a good man."

"He was." Natasha nodded distractedly, her face pained. "Damned Nazis..."

"What did you want to see me about, Natasha?" Elizabeth asked gently, hoping to distract her friend from her grief. Although Natasha seldom volunteered information about her past, Elizabeth knew that Natasha had endured more than her share of grief.

Natasha composed herself and returned her attention to Elizabeth. "I understand that you will be beginning your assignment in Germany soon, my dear."

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, that's right. There's an S.S. Officer..."

Natasha held up her hand to forestall Elizabeth. "I'm familiar with your mission parameters, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth nodded. Of course Natasha would know all about the assignment. She had probably been one of the architects behind it.

"Nervous?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Slightly."

"You'll do fine." Natasha smiled reassuringly and rose again, closing and locking the door. "But there's something we need to talk about before you go, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth nodded, not at all surprised the Natasha had locked the door. It was her typical way of announcing that they were going to discuss 'business'. "Sure, Natasha. What?"

Natasha sat at her desk again and pulled out a blank sheet of paper. She drew two interlocking circles on it and slid it across the desk to Elizabeth. "This may sound patently insane, Elizabeth, but do you have a scar that looks like this?"

Elizabeth stared at the paper in confusion for a few moments before slowly nodding. "But how did you..."

"A guess, nothing more..." Natasha lied, her suspicions confirmed.

"That is... one hell of a guess, Tasha." Elizabeth stared at her uncertainly. "How did you know? What does this mean?"

"The circles represent polar opposites. You might think of them as good and evil. They exist together, but also in opposition, you see? And... one can not naturally occur without the other."

Elizabeth shook her head in confusion. "I don't understand, Natasha... I got that scar in a riding accident 11 months ago. It doesn't mean anything."

"It does, though. That's why I wanted to talk to you. Do you trust me, Elizabeth?" she asked gently, knowing that Elizabeth would have to be handled carefully. Months of observation had told her that Elizabeth was ready to believe what Natasha had to tell her, but only on her own terms. She could not be forced to believe, only gently nudged in belief's direction.

Elizabeth nodded without hesitation. She was confused certainly, but nothing could change the trust she felt for her friend and teacher. Elizabeth was, by nature, a woman who constantly sought out the truth, and Natasha had always been completely straightforward with her in every respect. She trusted her more than she trusted any native-born Briton. "Always, Tasha."

"When you're in Germany, an opportunity may present itself to you. I'm here to tell you to seize it."

Elizabeth shook her head. "What kind of opportunity? I don't understand..."

Natasha took the sheet of paper and began sketching on it again, a simple metal bracelet with a large stone. She showed it to Elizabeth. "Familiar?"

Elizabeth shook her head. Even though there was something faintly familiar about the object depicted in the sketch, she was quite sure that she had never seen anything like it before. "No."

Natasha regarded her thoughtfully. "It's called the Digitablum Magae, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth frowned, recalling her high-school Latin that had been largely forgotten in favor of the German that Natasha had been teaching her. "The Witch's Glove?" she finally asked, looking to Natasha for confirmation of her translation.

Natasha nodded. "Yes. Or sometimes the Witch's Blade. Look." She pulled one of her gloves off and showed the back of her hand to Elizabeth. A scar in the form of a pair of interlocking circles marked her there.

Elizabeth frowned and rubbed her leg, just above the knee, where she wore an identical scar. "I don't... I don't understand, Natasha."

"My brother and I were raised by a man..." She shook her head, unwilling to go any farther into that aspect of her past than this. "Before he died, he forced me to don the Witch's Blade. It rejected me and marked me as you see. But you... You have been marked without ever having seen it. It calls to you, Elizabeth."

"It calls to me?" Elizabeth asked skeptically, shaking her head. She had always known that the Russian was superstitious, but this was beyond that. This was mystical nonsense, completely out of character for the normally rational woman.

Natasha nodded, ignoring Elizabeth's obvious credulity. "You dream, Elizabeth, about yourself, only it is not you. It is a woman who bears your face, but who lives in another place and time. A Gaelic warrior, a French peasant-girl turned savior of her people, Cleopatra of Egypt, a nurse in the first Great War. Do I speak false, Elizabeth?" Natasha was guessing, drawing upon what she had learned of the Blade to reach a logical conclusion. Her effort paid off.

Elizabeth shook her head in confusion. She had never spoken of these dreams to anyone. "How did you..."

"These are not dreams, Elizabeth. They are memories."

"Memories?"

"Of past lives. Lives where you have worn the Witch's Blade. Women chosen by the Blade, worthy to wear it, not like me. These women, Elizabeth, they are you..."

"What is it, though?" Elizabeth asked. Against all reason, she found herself believing the woman.

Natasha chose her words carefully. Revealing too much about the Blade would unwise. In truth, Elizabeth would only believe most of what there was to know of the Blade once she had experienced it for herself. "The Nazis believe that it is an Object of Power."

"Hitler collects Objects of Power..." Elizabeth said, beginning to see perceive why Natasha was bringing this up now.

"Yes." Natasha nodded. "But the Nazis are wrong."

"What? It has no power?"

"It is Power." Natasha regarded Elizabeth gravely. "With this on your wrist, you can change the course of this war. And of history itself."

"With a piece of jewelry?" Elizabeth asked skeptically.

Natasha nodded. "If it falls to you, accept it. If it comes within your reach, seize it by whatever means you can. Take it by force or by subterfuge, only take it. This is more than your destiny, Elizabeth, it is who you are."

Natasha stared gravely at Elizabeth. Everything that she had said was true, but she still worried for her friend, Wielder or Pretender, no one who wore the Blade was ever the same. Elizabeth's life would not be easy once the Blade fell to her, but it was necessary. Natasha preferred the idea of seeing the Blade on her friend's wrist to seeing it adorning some mistress of Adolph Hitler, or, more likely, one after another of his women as the Blade used and discarded them. In the hands of such Pretenders, the Blade could do immeasurable damage. In the hands of a good and worthy woman like Elizabeth, there was no telling how much good it could do.

Elizabeth stared at the picture of Gregori, frowning thoughtfully. She picked it up, wondering what kind of man the dark, attractive Russian had been. He was so familiar, like she had known him, although this was impossible, but there was something about those eyes... She stared deeply into them, willing the man in the picture to come alive, to tell her where they had met before.

When Elizabeth did not move for several minutes, Natasha rose and moved to stand next to her, waving her hand in front of her face.

"Liz?"

Sara abruptly found herself sitting in her own office again, with Gabriel waving his hand in front of her face.

"Sara? Pez?"

She looked up, shaking her head to clear it. "Oh, sorry, Gabriel."

"What happened?" Gabriel asked curiously. "Vision?" he asked, feeling more than a little freaked out by Sara's trance-like state. He wondered what her coworkers made of this when they saw it.

"Um..." Nodding, she pointed to the Witchblade. "Dmitrov told Elizabeth about it for the first time. Told her to do whatever it took to get her hands on it."

"Wow..." Gabriel was suitably impressed.

Danny, who had been observing the pair since shortly after Gabriel's arrival, made his presence known. "There are no coincidences, Sara..." Danny informed her, causing her to jump slightly. "Sorry to startle you. Guess it's an... occupational hazard." With an apologetic grin, he was gone.

"No coincidences..." Sara muttered.

"What?" Gabriel asked, frowning.

She shook her head. "It's just something that I'm hearing a lot these days. Both of these women, Boedicia and Dmitrov, wore the Witchblade. But Cailean never has. Why?"

"How do you know she hasn't?"

"Her brother told me." Sara hoped that Gabriel did not press the issue. After all, the only thing that he knew for sure about Ian was that he had once walked into his shop and threatened him. Even his name was unlikely to mean anything to Gabriel unless he had seen it in Fortune or Forbes in an article about Irons.

"Is that why you were asking about Boedicia's brother?" Gabriel asked, wondering why she had not mentioned that this woman had a brother before now. He frowned, wondering what else she was keeping from him, and why. He decided not to pursue the matter. If Sara was keeping something from him, she probably had a very good reason for doing so.

Sara shook her head. "No. I just want to know..." She smiled at Gabriel. "Well, I want to know a whole lot of things, but right now I'll settle for who this woman is and how she's involved in my life."

Gabriel shrugged, knowing from Sara's behavior that the matter of the brother was closed. "Maybe she isn't this time."

"I don't buy that. No coincidences, remember?"

He nodded, accepting it because Sara did. "Both of these women were friends and mentors to previous Wielders. Maybe she's meant to be the same to you."

Sara nodded slowly. "I can't shake the idea that something's wrong this time." Something named Irons.

"Well, I hope this helps, Sara."

She nodded and patted his shoulder. "It makes a lot of things clearer. Thanks, Gabriel."

"Should I keep looking?" he asked.

She shook her head. "That's okay. I'm sure that all the stories will end up pretty similarly." She held up the photo of Elizabeth and Natasha. "Can I keep this?" she asked.

Gabriel nodded and shrugged. "It's a copy anyway." He rose. "So, I'll keep working on the diary..." he trailed off when Jake entered the office.

Sara quickly slid the photograph into a drawer, irritated by Jake's timing, glad he had not come earlier. "You do that, Gabriel. Thanks for everything."

"No problem, Chief." He smiled at Sara and then at Jake. "Hey, Detective McCarty. Bye."

"What is it today?" Jake asked after Gabriel had left, wondering what the deal was with Sara and her strange young friend. Was she hiding something? "A monkey's paw that grants wishes?"

Sara was going to simply ignore him, but changed her mind. Irritated by his attitude as well as his timing, she decided to tease him a little instead. "Nah... They tend to be cursed. Gabriel tries to avoid cursed items. They have a habit of crashing his mainframe." She bent over her paperwork again. "Not to mention screwing up his cellular signal..."

Jake just stared at her. She was hiding something from him, but what? Affair? No, that was as ridiculous as cursed monkey's paws that interfered with cell signals. Gabriel Bowman had no more chance with Sara than, say that freak Nottingham. No, Sara needed a stable, sane man in her life. Someone like him. Jake quickly reminded himself that it did not pay to get involved while on undercover assignments and, for the first time in his career, felt regretful of the fact. He bent over his work, tuning out Sara's voice.

***

Since he had skipped lunch to visit Sara, Gabriel grabbed a pizza and a six-pack of those flavored coffee drinks on his way back to the office.

"Mmm, smells good..." a woman's voice said as he rounded the corner in the hallway outside his office. "Coffee, too. I like your taste." She smiled warmly at him.

Gabriel stopped and stared at the woman before him. She was quite tall, and absolutely gorgeous in her bell-bottomed jeans and black, scoop-neck sweater. "Um, hi..." Gabriel said, completely failing to recognize this as the woman who's mug-shot he still had in his shirt pocket.

It was an easy mistake to make. Carefully applied makeup had not only covered up the bruises on her face, but also given her more color than she would normally have. The swelling on her lip had also gone down substantially. An extra coat of lipstick had covered that discoloration and also filled in the small gap that the split had produced.

She was all smiles and carried herself in a completely different manner from the stone-faced woman in the mug-shot. It was an act that Cailean had perfected years ago, somewhere in between her actual personality and the debutante demeanor that she was often forced to assume. Just a regular girl, somewhat distracted by the man in front of her. This was the Cailean who picked men up in bars, invited them to her hotel room, drugged them, and then spent a leisurely evening extracting valuable and sensitive information from them.

Over breakfast, Cailean had asked Ian how, if Sara resisted Irons, she got information on the Witchblade. Unbidden by Ian, an image of this young man had come into his mind, along with a memory of him refusing to be intimidated by Ian's threats. Ian had expressed great admiration for this young man, referring to him as Sara's only true friend and suggesting that he was not nearly as mercenary as he liked to pretend to be.

Like a good kid sister, Cailean had teased Ian mercilessly on his choice of words when he had threatened Gabriel. 'I can make you pray for difficult' indeed. Looking back, even Ian had agreed that it had been a silly turn of phrase. He admitted that he was lucky that Gabriel had not laughed in his face, which would have made it awfully hard for him to maintain his threatening demeanor.

After she had finished breakfast, she had made.

Cailean smiled and relieved him of the pizza and coffee as he fumbled with his keys. "Let me help you with that, looks like you've got your hands full... I was beginning to think that you were closed for the day."

"Nah, just had to run across town on business."

"Ever the entrepreneur, huh?" she asked, handing him the pizza once he had opened the door. She followed him inside, looking around curiously. He had left the radio on, and Smiling Faces by The Undisputed Truth was playing loudly.

He grinned at her, turning the radio down but not off. Cailean reflected that he would have done better to listen to the advice the song offered. "Well, not always..." He put the pizza box down and returned his attention to her. "So, is there something I can help you with?"

She nodded, then abruptly turned her attention to a 1000 year-old urn. "Oh! Mayan, isn't it? Funerary?"

Gabriel nodded, smiling. Not only was she pretty, she also had great taste. He carefully picked it up and placed it on an empty table so that she could examine it more closely. "Remains of a princess. It's just under 1000 years old."

"They don't make them like this any more..." she muttered appreciatively, examining the urn. She looked up suddenly, given him a self-conscious grin. "Don't let me keep you from eating your lunch. Pizza's not nearly as good when it's cold."

"I'll just reheat it. Was there something in particular you were looking for?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "Information."

"Information, huh? Well, as my friends say, I'm full of it."

Cailean laughed and shook her head. "And he has a sense of humor. If you don't watch out, I may have to take you home to meet mother." She laughed again, smiling widely and giving him a wink. It had taken her three years to perfect that wink.

Gabriel smiled at her. She had a pretty smile and a beautiful laugh. "Information on what?" he asked, resting his hands on the table and grinning at her.

She turned so that her back was to the table. She leaned on it and smiled at Gabriel, sidling closer, just barely invading his personal space. It was a calculated move. He might not notice that she was closer than was socially acceptable for strangers, but he would notice her. "Well, I'm doing my Dissertation right now..." she said, casually turning her head to look at him.

Gabriel nodded. Pretty and smart. Sweet. "Cool. What on?"

"Objects of Power." She smiled again and gave a helpless shrug. "I'm afraid I've run into some serious roadblocks, but a friend of mine turned me on to this place. So here I am."

Gabriel smiled again, but he was having a hard time telling if this woman was more interested in him or in his expertise. "You know, I don't think I caught your name."

"Christine." She smiled disarmingly.

"Hi, Christine." He nodded. "So, uh... Objects of Power, huh?"

She nodded. "Yeah... Especially those that were of interest to the Nazis during the Second World War."

"Indiana Jones fan?" Gabriel asked with a grin.

"Actually, I preferred his father. Sean Connery is way cuter than Harrison will ever be." She shrugged again. In that sweater, leaning back like she was, the effect was... memorable.

Gabriel laughed, getting a little distracted by the view. "Okay. Um... let's see. From what I know of the period, the Nazis were mainly interested in religious artifacts. That what you're after?" he asked, trying to narrow in on exactly what it was that she was looking for and, at the same time, return his focus to work.

She nodded. "Yes. They were trying to lend themselves a measure of credibility that way, I suppose." She gave another shrug and an absent smile.

"Well, I don't exactly keep the Arc of the Covenant lying around the shop..."

"Ah, but I'll bet that if anyone could get it for me it would be you." She smiled at him and shook her head, leaning a little closer. "I've no real interest in acquiring any of the items that the Nazis themselves laid hands on. I'm more interested, as I think I said, in information about these items."

Gabriel smiled. "Hmm... so, what you're saying is that you're more interested in my brains than in my Adonis-like good looks?"

"Funny, I don't recall saying anything even remotely similar to that..." Cailean muttered, running her finger along his shirt until she came to a closed button. She tugged playfully at it, a serene expression on her face.

Gabriel cleared his throat, more than a little startled. He had expected, at the very least, a disapproving look in response to his flirtatiousness. "Well, information about these things tends to come a lot cheaper. Anything specific?" he asked in a near-whisper.

Cailean grinned and  nodded. "There's tons of information available on things like the Arc and the Grail and those things, but I keep coming across this reference to some piece of jewelry in the collection." She reached up and absently straightened his collar, smoothing the fabric of his shirt down when she was done.

"Jewelry?" Gabriel asked, staring down at her hands.

"Mmm-hmm..." As she smoothed his shirt, she let her cool hands brush his bare chest as well. "Nothing on what it is or what it's supposed to do, though, which was enough to grab my attention given the volumes of material available on almost everything else in the collection. I know it's not a lot to go on, but I thought if anyone might know..." She frowned thoughtfully, chewing her tongue. "Oh, and it's supposed to have some kind of large, red stone in it..." She slid her hands up his neck and began rearranging his hair.

"The Digitablum Magae..." Gabriel provided, smiling widely and licking his suddenly dry lips. "Witchblade." Damn she smelled good. Every time she moved, he got a whiff of vanilla. And her hands were so cool against his flushed face.

She looked surprised for a moment, then smiled widely, dropping her hands. "I knew you'd know! Like I said, I keep coming across references to it, including one that an SS Lieutenant stole it from Hitler's collection, and... something about the Vatican, but nothing about what it is or what its powers are supposed to be, or what happened to it after that. Can you at least point me in the proper direction so that I can get some information on it?" She smiled shyly. "I'd be really grateful for anything..." she said softly, covering his hand with one of hers. "Can you tell me who might be able to tell me some more about it? Then I won't have to waste any more of your time..."

Gabriel swallowed hard but did not try to free his hand. "N... No! You... you don't have to go anywhere!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Don't I?" she asked in a low voice, giving him a quizzical stare.

Gabriel winced. He was definitely not at his smoothest today. "Wh... what I mean is... I know all sorts of stuff about it, actually!" He smiled widely. "I can save you a lot of research."

She gave him a grateful smile. "Oh, that's just great! How can I ever repay you?"

Gabriel's heart was pounding as though it was trying to escape his chest. "Well... this... this information isn't going to come cheap, you know..." Gabriel began, wondering how much, if anything, he should tell her. She was only a student, but Sara would have been royally ticked off if she had found out that he was talking about the Witchblade to anyone else. Still, there could hardly be any harm in just talking. He inhaled deeply, drinking in her vanilla-scent.

"Well, I'm a broke college-student, so I don't have much..." She smiled helplessly and shrugged again, since she had noticed that he seemed to enjoy that. She leaned a little closer and widened her eyes.

Gabriel smiled. "Tell you what, I think we can work something out."

She regarded him curiously. "What kind of something?" she asked in a low, emotionless voice. The impression she had gotten from Ian was one of a business-oriented young man. She had not expected him to try to take advantage of her, even in the face of her flirtations.

He smiled innocently, nodding. "Well, you know, in a business like this, word of mouth is the best advertising I can get. You're in what... an Anth program?"

She nodded. "Religious studies, actually, but it's covered by the Anth department."

He grinned. "Cool. Like I said, word of mouth. I hook you up, you tell your friends about me. I've got a web-site, too. Deal?"

"That would be just wonderful. I would have told all of my girl-friends about you anyway..." She smiled, pleased to see that Ian had been right in his appraisal of the man.

"Cool." Gabriel smiled and nodded. "Here, let me give you my card, too." He pulled one from his vest pocket and scribbled his phone-number on the back. "That's my, uh... personal cell. Office number and e-mail on the front..." he trailed off, smiling at her.

She smiled and tucked in into the back pocket of her jeans, giving it a little pat. "Thank you. I'll be sure to spread the word."

He smiled and nodded. "Um... here, let me... give you some cards for your friends, too." Gabriel reached across the table and blindly grabbed a handful of cards, not taking his eyes off of her.

She accepted them with a smile, tucking them into her purse. "So, let's talk about the Digit..." she trailed off in frustration, rolling her eyes.

"The Witchblade. It's called the Witchblade in English."

She gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Mister Bowman. My Latin is... well, it leaves a bit to be desired."

"Gabriel, please."

She nodded. "Gabriel. The angelic herald."

Gabriel bowed his head and smiled up at her, leaning a little closer until they were almost touching. "There's, um... very little about me that's angelic."

"Are you flirting with me, Gabriel?" Cailean smiled curiously, encouraging him with her eyes.

"Mmm... Yes." He nodded unabashedly. "They'd have to take away my Man card if I didn't." He paused. "Does it, uh... bug you?"

Cailean smiled and gave a little shake of her head. "Not at all. Hell, my Woman card would be in jeopardy if you didn't at least try."

She grinned and laughed softly, feeling more than a little regretful that there was absolutely no chance of getting to know him in any serious way. He seemed like a very sweet young man. And here she was, seducing him into betraying his friend, as if the whole business was not unsavory enough without involving another innocent party. It was at moments like this that Cailean despised herself the most. When the subjects of these sorts of interrogations were politicians or gun-runners, she felt no regret at all, either for the act she put on or for the drugged interrogation that followed it. At least she would not have to drug this young man for her information, but she still hated herself for involving him.

When that though threatened to overwhelm her, she firmly reminded herself that the information she was trying to get from him was not a betrayal of Sara at all. It was probably the only way to save her life. That made what was going on here a good thing, she told herself firmly. Gabriel Bowman, who had never hesitated to provide Sara with information, even when it was dangerous for him to do so, now had an opportunity to keep her from death. All the same, though she wished that she could have told him the truth. She liked him. He was... harmless. He made her feel like a normal woman.

She returned her attention to the present, smiling more widely at Gabriel. "Tell me about this Witchblade..." she asked in a more business-like tone, not wanting to abuse this young man's trust any more than she already had. He would have other work to do as well.

"The Witchblade. It's a one-of-a-kind. There's nothing else like it in the world, so far as I know." Gabriel offered her a chair and sat down opposite her, getting down to business. There would be time to flirt later. There was always time for the finer things. "It's powerful. It's, um, a weapon that takes the form of a bracelet until it's used, then it transforms itself into an armored gauntlet with a blade that sticks out the end."

"Mind if I tape this?" she asked abruptly, reaching into her purse again and pulling out a small cassette recorded. "That way I don't have to concentrate on writing it all down."

Gabriel nodded. "Go ahead."

"Thanks." She grinned and turned it on. "Go on. Bracelet that turns into a weapon. How's it do that?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Not sure. The wearer kind of wills it to happen."

"The wearer wills it? Mentally? So, I'm guessing there must be a lot of strength of character required to make this thing work?"

Gabriel nodded. "Only certain women can make it work." He paused , thinking of the long line of Pretenders out there. "Strike that. Only certain women can control it fully. Strength of character's important, and there are lots of mentions in the literature of only members of a specific bloodline being able to wear the Blade, but it also pops up all over the world. One generation, it'll be in China, the next it'll be in Ireland, so what they mean by bloodline is up for debate. But the women are very special, there are certain criteria they have to meet, but, again, what those are is open for debate. There are lots of different theories, but all agree that, whatever the criteria, these woman are as one-of-a-kind as the Witchblade itself."

She nodded slowly. "So, when one of these women stumbles across this thing, she takes it up? How many suitable women can you find in a given generation?" she asked off-handedly.

"Only one. That's the thing."

"So, what if she doesn't find it?"

"Then no one wields it in that generation. Of course, events usually conspire to bring it to her or her to it..." Gabriel said, thinking of Elizabeth Bronte who had been advised to find the Witchblade and of Sara who had been found by it.

Cailean nodded. "So, there's never more than one possible candidate per generation?"

Gabriel shook his head. "Never."

"Huh." She paused, seeming to think. "So, what happens if someone who's not worthy puts it on?"

"Um, depends. It's supposed to be very painful. It usually kills men outright. With women, sometimes it'll use them for a while before it kills them."

"Use them? You make the thing sound intelligent."

"It might be. There are numerous references to it choosing who it wants to wear it that seem to indicate that it might have at least a rudimentary level of awareness."

"You said that it 'uses' unworthies? How?"

"Um... Kind of like... maybe it has a plan for how things should be in the world. So... it'll use a Pretender to help along its agenda if it has to."

"Agenda? It has an agenda?"

Gabriel nodded and repeated what Sara had told him after the Periculum, the only reliable information on the Witchblade's agenda that he had. "Bring balance to the universe, mainly. Good, evil, all that mystic crap."

"Little skeptical?"

He shrugged. "I probably should be, but I'm not. The Witchblade is all about balancing things out. When things get real bad, it arises to kind of... cleanse the human race of its sins or something. The Wielder, or sometimes the Pretender, is the instrument of that cleansing."

She nodded. "These Pretenders, can they control it, or does it control them?"

"They can sort of control it until it's done with them."

"But it always betrays them in the end?"

He nodded. "True Wielders, too, according to everything I've read. It slips away from them when they need it most. It abandoned Joan of Arc as they were tying her to her stake. Just slipped off her wrist..."

"Sounds to me like it's using the true Wielders as well."

Gabriel shrugged. "I don't know. I think it's more like it... doesn't want to get buried with them. See, there's this theory that every Wielder is a reincarnation of the previous Wielder. So, when the time is right, it lets the old Wielder die so that the new one can be born."

"Interesting." Cailean nodded slowly, thoughtfully. Gabriel had just planted the seed of an idea in her head. "So the old Wielder has to die to make way for the new?"

He nodded. "Seems to work that way, yeah. Kind of a bummer, really."

"Yes, it is..." Cailean agreed gently. "But it is how the world turns. One more question and then I'll let you get back to work."

Gabriel nodded, a little regretful that the conversation was coming to an end. "Ask away."

"You mentioned that the Witchblade has a habit of killing these Pretenders?"

Gabriel nodded. "Yeah."

"Is that inevitable? What if the Pretender takes it off before the Witchblade is done with it?"

"It kind of seems to be inevitable, yeah. Once you put it on, it doesn't always come back off. And it's supposed to be almost addictive. Even if you can get it off, there's always going to be this drive to have it again..." he told her. Sara had imparted this to him near the beginning of their relationship, telling him only that she knew it for a fact, without telling him how. He suspected that she might know someone who had tried the Witchblade on, though. Again, he did not press her for this information, knowing that she was probably protecting him by keeping it from him. He was reminded of the man who had threatened him shortly after Sara had first come to see him. Maybe he was the one, or, at the very least, represented the person.

Thinking of everything she knew of Irons, Cailean nodded. "Better than crack, huh?" she asked, doing her best not to smile at the irony of Irons being a bigger addict than she was. She failed.

Gabriel nodded, not catching the significance of her smile. "Basically, yeah."

She nodded and rose, returning the recorder to her purse. "I'm afraid I must be going now. Thank you so much for your time, Gabriel."

He rose quickly. "Hey, you want to go out for drinks or something some time?"

She smiled, genuinely regretful. "I'd like that very much, but I'm not going to be in town for very much longer. Next time I am, however, I will certainly look you up if you're agreeable."

He nodded, disappointed but still hopeful. "I'd like that."

She smiled at him. "I mean it. Next time I'm around, I will look you up." Even if it's in my next life.

He grinned. "Cool. Pizza?" He pointed towards the box.

She shook her head. "I'm afraid I really do have to go. I'm in town on business and I've already spent more time here than I should have. Thank you for everything, Gabriel. It was nice to meet you."

"You, too, Christine." As he walked her to the door, he remarked, "You know, you look really familiar. Have we met?" He stopped and gave an embarrassed laugh. "Jeez, that came off sounding like a really lame pick-up, didn't it?"

She grinned and nodded, chuckling softly.

Laughing, Gabriel leaned against the door-frame, trying to appear nonchalant. "So, babe, what's your sign?"

Cailean's soft chuckle became a loud laugh. She shook her head and pointed helplessly at Gabriel, genuinely amused by the comeback. It took them several minutes to compose themselves.

"Yield..." Cailean finally managed, still laughing softly. She smiled warmly at Gabriel, lightly touching his cheek. "I've always been partial to 'yield' myself."

Gabriel laughed, liking the answer. "Call me?"

She nodded. "Very next time I'm in town, Gabriel. I promise." With a final smile, Cailean turned and left the office. To her surprise, she found herself half-meaning her promise to him.

Gabriel stared after her thoughtfully. "I know I know her from somewhere..." he muttered, shaking his head. "Oh well, it'll come to me." Shrugging, he sat down to eat his pizza.