Chapter Four…Astral Travel 101
"A Friend will help you move. A True Friend will help you move the Body."
The 'Illuminati'
A very large and private library filled Ian's view. He sat at an antique mahogany desk with an open book on astral travel and his katana before him. Irons was awake and healing, yet it would be a long time before he'd be fully recuperated. He contemplated what may have brought Irons out of his coma. If he believed what the mysterious woman had said, "That he was a vessel of raw Power," perhaps Irons perceived his use of power for his unplanned journey. The morning's events had been so swift that he was not even sure it had happened. When he had arrived back at the estate, Irons had already dispatched orders via writing pad since his vocal cords were badly bruised. He had directed his servants to set up surveillance monitors and personal computer around his bed. His eyes held no emotion as Ian slipped quietly into the room. Ian observed Irons' lack of reaction with a sense of foreboding and could only surmise the worst was yet to come.
"I am pleased to see you awake," he paused, "Master. Dr. Immo expects that you will have a successful recovery. Is there anything I may do to serve you?" He asked this out of habit, not because he wanted to be ordered to do unspeakable acts. Ian studied his Master, committing to memory every emotional nuance and movement as well as his physical condition. When he had no sign from Irons that he was needed or wanted, he left as quietly as he came. His goal was the library to seek information on the mystifying woman. As he thumbed through the tomes, he caught himself thinking of Irons.
The Witchblade had missed Irons' carotid artery and spine, but the wound was a traumatic laceration, his recovery would be lengthy and difficult. It would be a long time before Irons graced the public eye. Ian quietly hoped that the recuperation process would distract his Master long enough as to forget or possibly forgive and accept Sara as the true Wielder.
Ian glanced back at the great book; he found he could not concentrate on the text, and reached out to stroke his katana, as though it was his talisman. Suddenly, he felt something intrude. He glanced across the room and saw the back of a tall, lithe, blonde woman with her hair in one long braid, facing the stacks. She was dressed in a blue silk robe. He slowly stood, picking up the katana as he did his stance defensive.
Sam provided the focal point and Power for the astral journey of the monks that accompanied her. The monks scurried invisibly from the room; each had an assignment and a set time for return. They were seeking information that would be relevant to aid the man who had invaded Sam's psychic and spiritual body. This was an unusual opportunity for them to gather knowledge and see another part of the world. They would also vicariously experience life, realizing both the good and the evil from which they had been shielded.
Sam started to turn then froze. The 'snick' of a sword being unsheathed was unmistakable. The laws of traveling on the astral plane were unclear regarding weapons. It was always possible someone had an Artifact like her knife and katana that could be used to sever the connection of her astral-self from her body. She held her breath as she focused her attention to the danger behind her. There was only one heat source. Male, hopefully the one she had tagged. He was controlling his breathing and slowly advancing towards her. This was only her fourth long distance astral excursion from the monastery. Her first with an alert person of which she had not been formally introduced, the others had been old friends.
"Excuse me," Sam cautiously raised her hands and gradually turned around to face him. "Would you please tell me where I am?"
"The library," he growled and glanced up at the security camera. He kept his breathing regular and readied his katana.
He unsuccessfully tried to keep the surprise off his face. The woman who faced him was beautiful. Hers was a natural beauty and there was an otherworldly grace about her. Her robe had been loosely knotted, against her skin; he glimpsed a lacy chemise. Something about her was familiar; he stopped moving, shifted his grip slightly on his katana and maintained a ready stance. "How did you get in?"
"Ah, if you think your security camera is working, it's not." She shrugged. "Electronic devices go screwy when I appear. In fact, my presence short circuits electronics for, I don't know," she gestured abstractly, "up to a shopping mall circumference."" She had learned from visiting the computer center of an associate. It had been a powerful lesson of astral projection meets the real world.
"You appear? What do you think you are? A genie, a ghost?" A faint smile flickered over his lips.
She sighed. "May I at least put my hands down if you're going to make fun of me?" Her eyes flicked over his aura. He was the man she sought; now if she could only persuade him that they had met before.
His eyes hardened for a moment as he studied her. She was slender about 5'7" and seemed to be in her mid-twenties. Her attitude was serene. The katana's point flicked as he gestured. "You may, as long as you don't move."
"Breathing and speaking okay?" She quipped as she started to lower her hands to her sides. "A genie, ghost? You've been reading too much fantasy. Besides, you should know about unusual travel techniques."
Ian's eyes narrowed, something seemed recognizable. "Explain how you got in here, and who you are." He adjusted his position, still suspicious, but clearly confused.
"Where's here?" She countered. "I got 'the library' part. But, what city, state, or country is this library located? At least I told you that you were in China." She observed that he was dressed completely in black. The clothes did not hide the fact that he was very muscular; he even worn black gloves with a large silver ring. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, a neatly trimmed beard and compelling brown eyes. Sam scanned the room for some reference, obviously implying she was unconcerned about the threat she was facing.
"You?" Realization began to spread across his face. "China? That really happened? I was sure it was a dream." He reached behind him and picked up the sheath and automatically replaced his sword. Suddenly electrified, his manner and stance changed instantly. Ian was delighted and somewhat daunted to meet the woman who could beat a dragon. "The dragon," he hesitated, "was that real?"
Sam nodded and smiled. She met his eyes which were captivating; they were definitely the ones she'd gazed into earlier.
"Then it would be fair to say that you are a genie," he grinned shyly.
Sam rolled her eyes, "Very funny, Travelin' Man."
She noticed his aura was very unusual, unusual in a bad way. Tearing her attention from his eyes, she studied his aura. He was on a number of different medications, and she was able to discern that he was unaware they were being administered. The drugs were specially created for him. Sam was shocked that someone was capable of such manipulation. Instead of immediately answering him, she tilted her head to one side. It was like reading ingredients on a package. Human, yes, but altered genetically, she had noticed that before but hadn't registered that it was out of the ordinary. Dark glistening lines lead from his body; they looked like the ones she'd encountered when she had returned him to his chamber. He was under control of someone bad. Her silence and intense scrutiny made him uncomfortable.
"Reading the itty-bitsy letters again?" He tried to make it sound light-hearted, but her lilac eyes were unwavering, and her manner was solemn.
"You're healthy, but someone is controlling you, using reprehensible methods. Your aura indicates that you are under the control of another person. That individual is drugging you; he wants to keep you submissive or at least measurably under control." She pointed to a stray black strand that wrapped around his shoe. "In your boot, there is something that betrays you to him." Sam looked into his eyes, "remove your boot."
Ian looked at her skeptically, but decided to humor her. Leaning against the desk, he bent down and unlaced his boot. Tugging hard, he removed it.
"There," she gestured to what she perceived as a pulsing black spot.
Ian scrutinized the area and to his horror, discovered a location 'bug'. It was one of Vorschlag's creations, beaming coordinates to one of the many satellites Irons had under control. ALL the times he had believed himself to be free of Irons' scrutiny. His imagined freedom was just that, imagination. He sagged against the desk. When he looked at his visitor, he discovered she was still looking at him intensely. She had not responded to his dismal find.
As she continued to study his aura, bright images suddenly flashed before her eyes, forcing her to step back and gasp. Running her right hand over her forehead then she rested it over her eyes. The Monster was going to…she tried to make sense of the images, bright lights and noises and a stabbing pain.
"He plans on hurting you. Over my dead body!" Furious, Sam started for the library doors. She was going to track down those lines and hang the creature with his own evil.
He paled at that. "Don't!" Ian jumped in front of her blocking her path out of the library, boot in hand. "He is not to be harmed." He was torn, he knew she was right, but his programming had been going on too long and was deeply imbedded. Although, his recent taste of independence had unraveled commands and had begun to deteriorate prior instructions, Ian was not about to have Irons discover he was truly losing his control.
Sam stopped, outraged. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, she opened her eyes as she exhaled, and searched Ian's eyes.
"Is there any way to free you? Is there something this person would be willing to exchange to free you?" The thought of somebody actually committing what was done to this man turned her stomach. She had to help him.
"I can never truly be free. I'm conditioned for duty and loyalty, to protect at all costs." As she searched his eyes, he felt her concern and realized she was feeling pain for his predicament. This was the first time someone looked at him and regarded him as a person, a man. He could tell by looking into her eyes that she did not want or expect something for her consideration. All the time he spent with Irons, everyone had an ulterior motive, and now he faced someone who looked so delicate, ready to take on the Devil himself, just so he could be free. It was nearly beyond his comprehension.
"Are you allowed friends?" Her jaw was set, attitude determined.
"No," he said flatly and looked down for a moment, then resumed watching her. Emotions flashed across her face, faster than a summer storm's passage.
"Well you have one now." She took a deep breath. "I'll find a way out for you." It was the least she could do. She had been given another lifetime, with the support of her Brothers, she felt she could take on Satan himself, and suspected she was about to do so.
His startled brown eyes met her strangely violet eyes, "Why? Why do you care?" He had no wish for her to be harmed on his account.
"I have a feeling we are to work together; and I care because that is part of which I am. Although, I don't know when I'll be able to get back."
"How did you get here?" His voice had dropped to a whisper.
"I just homed in on a very strong energy source that I tagged when I brought you back. Now, back to my original question, where am I and to answer your question, I'd have a very unpleasant return trip."
"Return trip?" Cocking his head, he tried, unsuccessfully, to look like the proverbial cat playing with a mouse.
"I asked first," she said maintaining a pleasant tone.
"You have to promise not to immediately disappear once I tell you." Loneliness flashed across his face and settled in his once glittering eyes.
She doubled over as though she'd been punched in the stomach. His pain battered her chest; tears sprang from her eyes. Shame coiled around her heart. Instead of seeing the man who faced her, she'd put her needs before seeing to the needs of another. His anguish, once released, brought her to her knees.
Ian realized she was not acting and rushed to her side. He felt helpless as she struggled for breath. He reached out to her.
Suddenly, she noticed his presence, felt his hand reaching. Instinctively, she dodged, but his hand passed through her arm, at least the image of her arm. She met his confused gaze.
"Are you sure you don't want me to "just disappear"?" She managed to gasp, trying to smile.
"What..." His voice trailed off, looking into her angelic face for answers. "Your arm? You? So much for acting intimidating," he trailed off.
"Well," She smiled, "You did look rather intimidating." She turned her head and gave him a calculated look. "As a matter of fact, you still look intimidating. Scary boot."
He glanced at his kneeling position then back at her and withdrew his hand and set his boot down so he could slip his foot into it. His eyes never left her face; confusion had been replaced with wonder. "You're in New York City, New York, United States of America. Do you need more specific coordinates?" His voice was soft.
"No." She shook her head. His face was so close to hers, reminding her of another, a long time ago. She caught her breath from her unexpected memory, "sorry about coming in here, uninvited. I forgot to get your permission when I returned you."
"I'm not the person you'd have to apologize to, and trust me you don't want to meet the owner." He looked down for a long moment then timidly met her eyes. "He'd have me hunt you down so his research team could take you apart." He tried to suppress a shudder.
"So, does this mean you won't tell him about me, or our unusual encounter?" She smiled mischievously at him.
He answered with a smile of his own. "We can't continue to meet like this."
"True, enough. As it is, my energy is running low. Do I have your permission to visit you in your dreams?" She could feel her image beginning to fade.
"Is that your usual line?" There was a hard edge to his voice and his eyes flared. His anger was a well-placed blow.
If she hadn't been on her knees, his anger would have knocked her flat. As it was, she doubled over again and wheezed. It took a few moments for her to catch her breath. She felt his anger change to surprise. Slowly, she raised her head, eyes blurry from the pain. She was growing rapidly weaker. Her astral body was defenseless against his negative emotions.
"Not a line. Do I have your permission or not?" She whispered, trying to regain her sense of balance, surprised how the flux of his emotions affected her.
"Yes," he stammered. "What's wrong?" The edge in his voice was quickly replaced by concern.
"You didn't need the sword," her sultry voice still a whisper, "strong emotions cut more efficiently." Sam met and saw through his eyes a scarred, shredded and defeated soul. "I will come back to visit you. Before I go, what is your name?"
He tried to smile, but it never reached his eyes. "Ian Nottingham and yours?"
"Sam. I'm sorry I have to go now, but I will be back." She glanced at the security camera; "You'll have two minutes before the electronics are restored." Sam noticed all the Brothers were back; they gave her worried looks.
Ian followed her gaze to the camera and nodded his understanding. There was a slight implosion; she and her invisible entourage vanished. He passed his hand where she had been kneeling. There was no sense of heat from her presence.
He stood and in the blink of an eye was back at the desk, he'd replaced his boot, and mentally noting that he would have to take into account Irons' other "leash". His katana sheathed in its previous position, and he was sitting as though nothing had happened when the security camera resumed. Ian sat; eyes fixed on the book, and tried to slow his racing heart. She said she would be back, he thought. Then he recalled something that he was sure could not be true; she said she would be his friend. It was amazing how such a simple sentence changed the way he looked at the world. As he considered the incident, he realized she'd been truthful with him but never told him who, really what, she was.
**********
The candles had nearly burned out, and the burbling of the waterfall in the garden reassured Sam that she was back in the monastery. The Brothers confirmed that she was unharmed and left her in peace. Their observations would be presented after breakfast and morning meditation.
The air was cool and she pulled her silken robe around her shoulders, covering her summer chemise. Sam sat up and scanned the garden for movement. She stood and padded to the open window and stared up at the stars, thinking about the enslaved man that she'd met half a world away. As she reflected on her encounter, Sam discovered that her inner balance was different. Something significant had occurred and she was just noticing. His initial visit, where he had wrapped around her heart charka, he had acquired a 'bit' of her Power. In a sense, he had tagged her with a psychic tether, binding her. That was why she had the visions regarding people she'd never met. They were important to him, thus they would be her concern as well.
The look in his eyes haunted her; he was so alone. His aura revealed that he cared for someone but apparently the feeling was not mutual. The Evil force was also significant to him, in a twisted way. Sam would have to take great care not to hurt Ian Nottingham. He needed a friend and a big bolster to his non-existent self esteem. She leaned her head on the cold stone and inhaled the clear night air. She realized he was to be her first assignment, and she had absolutely no clue how to extract him. Her morning session with the Master and the Brothers who had accompanied her was going to be a long one. Sam returned to the futon and tried to doze.
**********
Ian checked the time and discovered he had to attend Irons. He could only hope Immo had given him a large sedative. He did not want Irons to ruin his good mood. As he stood, he carefully closed the book.
All of Irons' bedrooms had been outfitted with the necessary hospital equipment. Even in his current condition, he demanded on sleeping in a different room each night. Ian made his way to what he considered the "Blue Room". It was appropriate, in Irons' condition, that all the furnishings were varied shades of dark blue. The ornamentation was tasteful; silver pieces emphasized the austere chamber. Ian tapped twice on the door before entering. Irons was sitting up in bed, a stern look on his face. Monitors had been set around his bed so he could observe every part of his domain. A laptop computer was on and propped on a bed pillow. The furrowed brow told Ian that Irons had noticed when the camera went out, or had it?
Irons held up a note-board with a question printed in large red letters,
"What happened to the monitors?"
"The monitors?" Ian asked. He made a point of looking at each monitor screen, and then checked the wiring. As he proceeded from monitor to monitor, Irons scribbled fiercely then slapped the board for attention.
"Not now you idiot!" was scrabbled on the board Irons practically flung at Ian.
"I don't understand," replied Ian. He faced Irons with a questioning look. "First you ask me 'what happened to the monitors', they are all here and appear to be working; and then you tell me 'not now'. He purposefully left off 'you idiot'.
Irons started writing again, his face flushed with fury. He cursed wordlessly as his marker ran out of ink. He grabbed another pen and finished his assertions.
"The monitors, computer and the intercom went out while you were in the library. You were in the library." He had underlined intercom and doubly underlined 'in the library'." His hand was trembling in anger.
"Yes, I was in the library until I came up here. Were you able to see me approach your room? What do you mean they 'went out'?" Ian pulled a chair close to Irons' bed and sat down. He leaned forward to watch Irons write his reply.
"Yes, I saw you leave the library and come to my room. Earlier the monitors had static, the intercom and phone lines were dead."
Ian glanced at the monitors, each of which showed various sections of Irons' estate. "I'll call maintenance at once. Is there anything else?" Ian perched on the edge of his seat, ready to leave.
Flipping to a new sheet, Irons began to write. Ian waited patiently for Irons to finish.
"Yes, call maintenance. You seem different, did something happen?" Irons handed the board to Ian with a watchful look on his face.
Ian took the board and read Irons' question. He'd expected Irons to pull something. He wanted to grin but maintained his composure. He slightly shook his head.
"Nothing happened, however, I am concerned about your recovery. Has Dr. Immo been in yet?" He handed the board back to Irons.
Irons looked disappointed as he accepted the board.
"No," he wrote. "He will be in later."
Ian dipped his head. "I'll look in on you later."
"Are you going for the Witchblade?" Irons wrote.
"I'm going out, I most likely will see Sara, but I doubt the issue concerning the Witchblade will be discussed. But, first I will call maintenance." He rose, moved the chair back to its position, turned and bowed slightly to Irons. "Do you have further need of me?"
Frustration colored Irons' face. He hurriedly wrote his response. "No," it was underlined. "See to your duties."
"As you wish," replied Ian. He turned and walked slowly to the door; he expected Irons to demand more time. He reached the door, opened it, and turned slightly to see Irons. Irons had not written anything else. His posture told Ian, he'd been dismissed. Ian nodded at Irons and slipped out the door.
**********
Restless, Sara turned on her television. Flicking off most of the lights in her apartment, she settled on her couch to watch the Comedy Channel. Some of the stand-ups' jokes warranted a chuckle, but it was mainly a mindless way to wind down. No plots to follow or complain about, easy to turn off when she was tired and she didn't feel like she missed anything when she wanted a sandwich or chat on the phone.
She ran her hand through her hair as she stood up and approached the television to turn it off for the evening. Silence. She glanced out her window and wondered where Nottingham was. For the first time she'd admit, that wherever he was, she hoped he was safe, for Una's sake. She decided to crash for the night, making a stop by the bathroom to brush her teeth before changing. After pulling on her oversized t-shirt, she threw herself into bed. Unable to sleep, she stared at the ceiling.
Ian, where the hell are you? Her mind shrieked. She was past the 'how would he react' when he faced her, worried he'd rub her nose in her lack of understanding of the Witchblade. Now, she of all people was growing concerned regarding his lack of availability. Nearly everyday, she didn't want him around. He lurked in the shadows and spoke in cryptic sentences; it was his "Mystique". But today, she had valid questions and he was there to help, not her, but a child of her partner. What was that all about, she brooded? Too busy to answer a couple of questions? Her mind quipped sardonically to herself.
Rolling over on her stomach, she closed her eyes. The image of Ian gently setting Una down and handing her the ball came unbidden. Nottingham's movements had been precise, holding Danny's daughter as though she were a piece of crystal. His eyes, kind, never left the girl's face Sara witnessed Ian stroking Una's hair; his expression was open and caring. She'd never consider an assassin, especially one of Irons', being tender and considerate. He even caught her ball! She mumbled to herself. Pulling an extra pillow closer, she curled into a tighter ball. After a long time, she finally drifted to sleep.