Chapter Six…Devil and the Deep Blue Sea
"Time and Tide wait for no man."
Somerville: "The Sweet-Scented Miser
Feeling cold, smooth tile under her cheek baffled Sam. Slowly she peered through her eyelashes, it was pitch black. She tried to remember where she was but the pain in her head was too intense. Hospital, she thought, I must have fallen out of bed. Closing her eyes, she listened intently for the usual hum of buzzers, talking orderlies and nurses. Total silence. The chill from the floor was beginning to seep into her bones as fear started to replace confusion. Where am I? No, where was I? In a monastery, her mind churned. No that can't be right, I'm fifty-five and retired. Why would I be in a monastery? Sensations on her neck distracted her as something moved out of her hair onto her arm. She kept her eyes closed and stayed very still.
"Lassie!" A tiny voice called.
Now I'm hallucinating, she admitted to herself.
"Master!" The voice was louder and more urgent.
She inhaled and slowly opened her eyes. "This can't be real," she said out loud. There was a sense of something moving on her arm. She tried to direct her attention to the weight that seemed to balance precariously on her forearm. Colored light swirled around the small figure. The light appeared to emanate from the miniature body but did not illuminate the darkness.
"What or should I ask, who are you?" whispered Sam.
"Oh no, Master. It is not the time to jest." The petite form responded. "You must create light so we can determine where we are."
"You want me to create light. Sure, just tell me where the flashlights are and I'll be happy to oblige." I'm talking to a figment of my imagination, I must have really gone over the edge. Sam decided. She shook her head, a bolt of pain ran up the right side of her neck ending with an agonizing flash at the base of her skull; she gasped.
"You are in pain?" It inquired.
Sam wanted to give a sarcastic retort, but bit her tongue. Whatever was on her arm sounded sincerely concerned. "Yes, my head feels like it's going to explode. Do you have any idea what happened?"
"You were conferring with the Master, and then all of a sudden you seemed to experience incredible pain and started to fall to your knees. I felt the Power building so I entangled myself into your hair. Next thing I know we landed here and it took you a while to awaken." Part of the way into his explanation, he managed to sit down on her arm, legs dangling.
"What do you mean I was 'conferring with the Master', the Master of what?" Sam asked. She didn't want to believe what he was saying but it sounded right.
"The Master of the monastery, you were discussing the man in New York. Oh, and you said the name 'Ian' before we ended up here." He paused, "Did you really forget who I am?" Had she been able to see his face, concern would have been replaced with a distressed expression.
"Unfortunately, I don't remember much of anything. It's like there's a hole in my memory." Sam was beginning to grasp the fact the thing on her arm was real. "What is your name?" She hesitated, "and what are you?"
"Well, you've been calling me Mac. We haven't had a proper Naming ritual, yet. I'm a Fae. You have a number of Artifacts, and they haven't had a Naming, either."
"If I wasn't confused before, I certainly am now." She sighed; I seem to have lost more than my way." Asking what a Fae is, would be a rhetorical question, she decided. If I could just figure out what happened, I might be able to retrace my steps. And what the heck are Artifacts?
"I can try to help you recall." He offered. He hoped that she would trust him, if she didn't regain her knowledge, they'd be prisoners of the dark. Mac really hated not being able to see; his night vision only needed a glimmer of light to work. This must be what an abyss is like, he mused.
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," answered Sam. "What do I have to do?" My figment is going to get me out of this mess. Maybe I'm just asleep, or maybe I'm in the loony-bin.
"First, I need you to sit up," directed Mac. He stood on her arm and proceeded to climb up and onto her shoulder. "Where is your pain?"
"You're practically standing on where it starts." She tried to sit still so he wouldn't fall.
"Good, I'm going to attempt to lessen your pain. I will be pressing on your pressure points; it will hurt initially but it will only be for a moment. Ready?" He didn't wait for her reply, he pressed a tightened muscle. The extra force came from his fluttering wings; he attacked it like a dive bomber. He felt her flinch but not cry out. He counted as he applied force to the knotted muscle; he stopped when he reached thirty.
Sam released the breath she'd been holding. There was a severe pain when he started but was gone, as soon as he reached fifteen. Now there was only an ache.
"That helped Mac, now how do we find my memory?" Sam asked. She tilted her head to one side and then the other stretching her neck muscles, taking care not to knock Mac off her shoulder.
"I'm afraid Lass, that the process is rather harsh and unpleasant." Even though she could not see him, Mac looked down. He regretted that the possible remedy would damage her. In what manner, he wasn't sure.
Sam looked around, amazed that the darkness was so overwhelming. "I don't think we have much choice, do you?"
"No," Mac reluctantly agreed. "I need you to set me on top of your head."
Moving her hand so Mac could use it to make his way to the top of her head, he reached the middle of her head and sat. "Anything else?" she prompted. She fixed her attention on the engulfing darkness, instead of the odd scrambling body on her arm.
"Do I have permission to enter your psychic, spirit and mental realms?" Mac requested solemnly.
"Yes." That question seems so familiar, reflected Sam.
"Close your eyes," he leaned forward and placed his hands on her head. "Take a deep breath," he felt Sam inhale, "now release it slowly and relax into the stillness." His body swayed a little as she complied. He closed his eyes and spread his spirit throughout her psyche. Each Artifact touched him as he passed through each of her chakras, directing him to her missing psychic link.
Passing through a barrage of frightening images, Mac could understand why this section of Sam's spiritual self was disoriented. She had a new 'binding' on her heart chakra and whoever bound her was undergoing a horrific experience. She was unaccustomed to being bound, and this binding had not been done with her knowledge or permission. Whoever bound her placed both of their lives in danger. Beginners groused Mac, too much Power with too little knowledge. Having found the missing piece, he was able to coax it out with the help of the other Artifacts and place it where it belonged. He experienced a jolt and a shudder that rippled through Sam's body.
A sharp intake of breath and Sam's consciousness returned abruptly. She opened her eyes and looked around the room. It was still black but she knew how to remedy that.
"Oh my God, Ian." Uneasiness grasped her core tightly. His presence reverberated through her psyche, drawing her into the dark. She experienced his pain and betrayal. Hang tough, I'm on my way, she projected into his mind. Unsure if he was capable of understanding, she hoped on the off-chance that her soothing tone would comfort him. As fast as I can, she declared to herself. Knowing she was close reassured her. Sam was aware he might be sensitive to her emotions so she forced herself to remain calm.
"Great job Mac! Thanks for bringing me back." She didn't have to see, she could feel Mac smiling broadly. "Now, I think I better work on lighting." Extending her hand palm up, Sam started the process of Creating light.
Tick, tick tock,Tick, tick tock, Tick, tick tock, Tock, tick-tick, Tock,tick-tick, Tock, tick-tick, Ticka, Ticka, Ticka, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock….The sounds of hundreds of varying types of clocks, in the background the hiss of sand running through a very large hourglass.
Annoyed, Sam stopped in the middle of rearranging particles for encouraging Luminosity, "Mac, did you happen to transport the crocodile from 'Peter Pan'?"
"Who is…?" Mac was interrupted by a deep booming proclamation.
"YOU ARE TO REFRAIN FROM…"
"Don't tell me, ALL Incarnations are given the 'Great and Mighty Oz' voice," stated Sam. "And could you turn down the Timex sounds, I'm trying to work here."
"Uh-umm, YOU ARE TO…"
"Let me guess," Sam cut short "Oz", "this is gonna be tough with all those wristwatches, you must be Time. Am I right?" She didn't wait for an answer, "thought so, now if you don't mind I have things to do."
"YOU ARE…"
"Drop the 'Mighty Oz' imitation," interjected Sam, "I find it very irritating, and you really don't want to tick me off, pun intended." Sam refocused on Light, instantly the room was awash in soft illumination. Standing in front of her was the strangest individual she'd ever met.
The man's face was flushed with anger, which set off his Louis the 16th powered wig and frontier coon-skin hat complete with a bedraggled tail. He wore a WW II leather bomber jacket over a frilly white lace shirt, patched blue jeans and ostrich skin cowboy boots completed his 'picks of the century' wardrobe. Watches. Over the bomber jackets sleeves, he had watches of every shape and size. Every pocket boasted of at least two pocket watches. Hanging from his belt loop was a lime green rabbit's foot and his trade-mark hour glass. Watch-rings adorned his fingers. He wasn't very tall, or overweight. He was average; the only thing, besides his clothing choices, that made him be conspicuous were his timepieces.
"You," he watched her face then decided to continue.
Sam managed not to laugh, but she did smile. "Nice hat."
Her statement derailed him. He took a breath and was ready to try again.
Sam walked up to him and offered her hand, "Let me introduce myself, I'm Sam. You must be Time." She had run into the Incarnation of Death, literally, while on her third astral trip. He had used the fierce booming voice to announce his identity. Instead of being frightened, she had laughed at the sheer bizarreness of the situation. They had a refreshing conversation before they went their separate ways. Dead Man Stalking, she grinned at the memory then turned her attention back to Time who seemed to be deliberating about shaking her hand. Tough choice.
He looked at her hand and debated for a moment about taking it. He accepted her hand and was surprised. She had a firm but pleasant handshake and met his sandy colored eyes without trepidation.
It was very rare that he had any interaction with the mundane plane, at least that was what he and the most of the other Incarnations called it. Death had warned him and the other Incarnations about her. Warned was a strong word, when in fact, he merely announced a Divine Individual was gracing the 'planes. He said this casually, as though discussing the change of season. Time like the others, dismissed the concept of the Spiritual Mystic impacting their spheres of influence as nonsense.
Yet, here she is, thought Time.
"You were saying something?" Inquired Sam, innocently. Once her hand was released, she stepped back, "I have work to do so…"
Time rudely interrupted her. "You MUST stop influencing time. Take tonight for example; you have affected nearly all of New York state and three random countries." Time's face began to redden again. "Your time pockets were tolerable, but tonight you have gone too far!"
"Really, how far have I gone?" countered Sam. "As for the time pockets, I'm glad you're cool with that. You know..."
Time erupted. All the alarms on the watches and from clocks Sam was unable to see went off; some obscure country music channel blared 'Achy Breaky Heart', while the other timepieces started to ring, buzz, cuckoo-coo and gong. Time stomped up to Sam. "You're interference is an outrage. I will strip you of the Power to command Time."
"Before you start threatening, there are a couple things you should know." Her tone was soft and serene. "Will you listen?"
Her change in demeanor startled him; he said a Word and the room became quiet, with an occasional tick. As he studied her face, he became aware this Woman was much more powerful than any of the Divine predecessors. With a sinking feeling, he realized he would not be able to make good his threat. She was too strong.
"I will listen," he muttered. Death didn't say she was THE One foretold by the Prophecies, he sighed.
"First, I am sorry to inconvenience you. I have had no formal training on Time manipulation. It just happens. Second, something out of the ordinary is occurring tonight, since I do not have the facts, Time will remain frozen until I can remedy the problem. You can work with me or go sit in the corner until I'm done."
Time snorted, "You have no idea what you're dealing with and that will be your downfall."
"Does that mean you're going to be quiet and sit down?" Sam gestured to a chair and turned back to glance around the room. I can't believe he actually snorted. I thought that was just a saying. She cast around the room seeking Ian's psychic signature.
"The catastrophes that your 'lack of training', as you say, will generate will be insurmountable." He used his most ominous tone. She'll succumb to fear, Divine or not, he gloated.
"I'm sure you can handle any problems. My friend is in trouble and I'm going to find him. You can stay here and brood; I'll even leave the 'light' on for you." Her tone was still cool, but there was a barb of sarcasm. She allowed herself to be drawn to Ian's life force and the 'tag' she had placed earlier.
Time digested her remarks, not really noticing the sarcasm. It was true he would be able to correct any mishaps that occurred during this aberration in time. He resigned himself to the fact that she would not be intimidated and looked for a place to sit, till she was done.
Light proceeded and surrounded her as she walked along an austere hallway. A doorway ahead had oily tentacles going into the room. It was apparent the source was located down the hall and in a nearby room. Sam approached the entrance, behind which Ian's life force flickered. Being careful not to touch the menacing lines, she opened the door. To her horror, she saw Ian shackled to the floor wearing a restraining collar and a visor that looked as though it had been invented in Frankenstein's lab. Next to him, syringe in hand stood a rat-faced man in a lab coat. He practically had no aura, instead he looked like a mummy wrapped head to toe in greasy black ropes. Sam cursed under her breath, calling The Threefold Law upon him. Its use was mainly for witches or magicians, but also worked for anyone. It was the karmic principle of Celtic paganism which stated that the energy released by the sender, either positive or negative, will return to the sender three times over. Judging by the wicked cords encasing him, the malevolence had percolated his very being. His life was going to become very interesting, which was a Chinese curse. 'May You Live in Interesting Times.' Sam smiled humorlessly, and then turned her attention to Ian.
During this early morning's event, the black controlling cords had become dangerously frayed. If they were severed with no back-up support, he would die. It would be a slow, painful and degrading way to expire. Her heart sank at the thought of losing him. She knelt down beside him and gently removed the visor. Seeing his eyes glued open shocked and sickened her. Placing her hand on one of his eyes and then the other, she was able to undo the damage Immo had done. A minute amount of spittle was dribbling out of his lips. His face was pale and the right side of his face twitched. His aura showed that he had been given a massive amount of drugs. It was possible he had received the thoughts she had projected earlier; the drugs he endured were to make him more pliable and receptive.
After removing the collar, she placed her hands on either side of his throat. Concentrating on the make-up of his body, Sam sought out and neutralized the drugs, including the ones he had been administered without his knowledge. Mentally she nudged the part of the brain to produce the chemicals needed to keep his system 'clean'. Once she was sure the drugs were out of his system, she verified his mental, physical and spiritual health. His natural coloring returned and the twitch had disappeared. Using the edge of her sleeve, she gently dabbed around his mouth. He would need attention, but not the kind that could be found in a hospital. In order for him to have a chance of having a relatively healthy life, she would have to free him from the Controller. She sat back on her heels and did another read of his aura confirming his heart rate, breath and reactions were back to normal.
Sam leaned over and tapped the cuffs which sprang open in her hands. "You're awful quiet Mac; cat got your tongue?" she chided.
"Oh Lassie, you don't go mentioning cats," he piped. "They be the bane of the Little People. The Lad's gonna be alright?" There was a hint of unease in his attitude.
"Yes Mac, I have a little more to do, and he'll be fine. So, you're the reason Tiger and Snow are chasing across my chest at 3 in the morning."
There was a long silence. "Yes." He muttered. "Please don't be angry."
"Hmm, angry? No I save that for someone special." The last shackle clicked open. "Mac, I want you to stay with him. He should be out till I come back and bring him into this time zone." She held out her hand to jump on and then she set him onto Ian's chest. "No River Dancing!" She stated in a mock threatening tone.
"Aye Master," he looked up at her, "Will you be leaving on the Light?" Mac appraised the second human he'd been charged with protecting. His Master trusted him, he would not disappoint her.
"Sure. Do you smell something?" She took a quick look around the room. "Cookies!" It's been years, she realized real home-made cookies. Sam could almost hear the cookies call her name; she took a step toward them before reminding herself the task she faced. "Don't touch them or I will have your fuzzy little head! Got it?" She hesitated, "They may be drugged, and it would have to be something strong to take Ian out of the game.
Mac put on his most innocent face. "Of course I do. I'll sit right here and make sure that no one else takes them." A dark expression crossed his face when she mentioned the cookies might be a trap. Only a low-life would lace cookies with drugs, he snapped mentally.
She eyed him suspiciously, sighed and went out the door following the cords. There was a corridor that intersected the hall she was traveling that seemed to lead to a more elaborate area. Several doors were open revealing bedrooms with hospital equipment. Curious, she wondered, who is the person behind this curtain. Sam had been able to distinguish Ian's slimy tethers from those of the rat-faced man. The bindings lead to a locked door. She saw the mechanisms of the lock and rearranged them so the catch was disengaged.
Slowly she pushed open the door, revealing a white-haired man asleep in bed. His psychic glow was more of a dying ember. His obsession swirled about him like a frenzied Tasmanian devil made of tar. She could almost smell the sulfur that imbued his body. Sam stepped into the room quickly, grabbing the strands that bound Ian. Tying all three together, she broke the bond of him to Ian, and created a hangman's noose with the extra lengths of psychic rope. She placed the noose around his head which would make him think he was still in control of Ian. The Controller's high tech equipment would still be able to track him but mentally he would be unable to determine what orders he actually issued. His arrogance and overconfidence would blind him to the truth. Just as she picked up another line to inspect it, a loud buzzing like swarms of flies filled the room.
"HE IS NOT YOURS…"
"The voice is not original, and neither are the lines for that matter." She interrupted. Her stomach had lodged itself in her throat, but she was not about to panic. Tonight seemed to be All Incarnation night. Why couldn't they wait for Halloween? Slowly she turned around and stood face to face with Evil. Keeping her face neutral, she studied him, forgetting about the strand she still held.
"I WOULD…"
Exasperation overcame any fear she was experiencing. "Kill the overbearing pompous voice!" She absent mindedly twisted the thread in frustration.
"Stop!" The tone was sinister but worried. The look on the disgustingly green face suggested a breeding ground for maggots. The suit Evil wore was tailored to reveal his impeccable muscles. He was clean shaven with slicked back shoulder length hair. From his suit to his exquisite loafers, he was a dashing figure, but his soulless, hungry eyes to his disintegrating face were a grisly sight. He was pointing a well manicured hand at Sam. His aura resembled a cesspool, eddies of blood swirled among the gangrene rainbow, fecal brown and decomposing human, road-kill mash.
She looked at the strand in her hand, then at him and back to the man in the bed. "Oh, I should have guessed he was one of yours."
"Let go of the binding." He couldn't believe anyone; especially a woman would trifle with him. He could feel the warmth and love radiating from her. It was all he could do to remain in the room. Love and self-confidence, not the kind of confidence that brings him followers.
Sam glanced at the thread and then gave it another twist. The thread started to glow with white light. The cleansing light crept up both sides of the thread.
"Nooo!" A mixture of a plea and whine escaped Evil's throat. "Stop, what ever you want, no strings, literally no strings attached." Evil's eyes were the size of basketballs, and about that color.
"No strings or obligations? If you renege or twist what I ask, I know how to find you. And…" Sam watched him squirm. She knew very well Evil would try and subvert her geas, but she'd been around a long time and was quite aware of Evil's grand scheme. Getting Evil to back off for even a short time would be a welcome respite. Besides, she was practicing twisting manipulation of evil to do her bidding, kind of like 'twisting evil into a pretzel and pretzels were always good.' Wicked is not necessarily a bad thing. She met Evil's eyes with resolution, and gave him a chilling smile.
"And?" he questioned. Fear was very evident in his stance.
"Now, I'll leave that to your imagination. One thing which is true and you can verify is that I Never Bluff!'" She jerked on the line she was holding to emphasize.
He yelped in surprise. "Okay, I understand. What do you want?"
Sam gestured to the man in the bed, "I want you to have him stop abusing and controlling the man I just released, Ian Nottingham. He is to believe that everything is going as it should and Ian is doing a wonderful job."
Evil nodded quickly, "I understand."
"Those people outside of this structure that Ian is concerned about are also to be protected. Open your mind to receive their images." Sam could tell he dropped his shield and was waiting; it took only a moment for her to flash the images she knew about. "You or your minions mess with them, we are going to have a little 'come to Jesus meeting'." She knew Evil's weaknesses and she could exploit them and make his existence incredibly unbearable.
Fear fled momentarily, "There's no reason to use foul language." He remembered she was still holding the strand and the glow was getting closer. How can this be happening? He wanted to scream. Recognition started to seep into his memory. The Divine One. The thread she was holding was a major link from Evil to Irons. The pure and goodness that she was instilling in the thread would cause a reaction similar to placing a very hot glass pot into a sink of ice-water, except this crack had significant indications to the continuation of Irons and Evil.
Sam watched all the green drain from Evil's face. He comprehended the phenomenal disaster he would have to confront. She noticed he had begun to tremble. "Problem Evil?" she drawled. "How would you like to walk on the Bright side?"
"No, please. Let me go, keep him if you want." He gestured at the figure on the bed.
"Normally, I'd take you up on your offer, but that guy might be next in line for your job."
"I'll do what you ask, but your friend's friend has an Artifact that puts her in harms way, she's a cop." He shrugged, "I can't mess with her Destiny."
"You don't have to heap more on her. What the Ancients have planned for her should be enough. You and your minions leave her alone! Do you understand and accept?" She waited for his affirmation. "No helping Sleepy there." She gestured at the bed. "Are you going to honor our agreement?"
Evil gasped when he saw how close the thread's glimmering pureness was to making contact with his aura. "Yes, no harm, no evil minions, Irons" Evil gestured to the man in the bed, "will think everything will be going as planned."
Satisfied, Sam dropped the thread. She knew that Evil would find a way to twist her demands, but she would be ready. Flicking her hand, she made the motion of dismissing Evil. She could feel his anger and bubbling hate. She fixed him with a languid stare. "If you have a problem, bring it on now. I'm sure we can kiss and make up. I find group hugs to be warm and a satisfying way of dealing with conflicts. Come here," she stepped toward him, "I can tell you need a hug." Evil, thoroughly disgusted melted into a foul toxic puddle and oozed from the room.
One plan stopped and another set in motion she got up and was hurrying to Ian and Time when she paused. Turning back…she walked over and sat on the edge of the bed and leaned down and whispered into Irons' ear. Before she stood, she brushed her fingers across his brow and muttered a word. Rising, she glanced around the room and headed back to Ian. She stopped at the door and gazed at the agitated aura around Irons, a wicked smile settled into her eyes and drifted to her lips. There's gonna be a hot time in the old town tonight, she thought.
Mac had been sitting on Ian's chest and the smell of the home-made treats was overpowering. Something was on the man's chest. Mac carefully walked to a good sized chunk of chocolate. Crumbs! Mac almost danced with happiness, but caught himself in time, sobered by Sam's warning. Instead, he sat where most of the crumbs were and began "dusting off" the remains. Delicious! He decided.
Walking down the hall, she mulled over her encounter with Evil. Sam knew he would wait until he thought her guard was down before trying anything. Each Incarnation had a weakness; she would have to find evil's weakness very soon. Her thoughts turned to Ian, once she roused him; first she had to give him temporary bindings, like training wheels, till he was complete. Second she would tell him how he would need to act and how to use the 'magic phrase' that should keep Irons off his back. Third and most challenging, she would have to give him lessons so he could use his Power and not be used by it.
Sam walked into the office where Ian was lying on the ground. Mac was too engrossed in cookie crumbs to notice her.
"Mac!" she snapped.
Mac jumped in surprise, nearly falling off Ian. "I was cleaning him, really."
"Right, and I'm the Queen of Everything." She replied. She sat next to Ian on the floor.
"You're a Queen? That's wonderful. When did that happen?" Mac enthused.
Sam closed her eyes. Give me strength. "Mac, would you be interested in buying a bridge?" She bit her tongue.
"Well, if the price is right and it's in good condition. Yes. I would." Mac grinned; shall we complete the deal after this?"
"We need to talk later Mac." She kept her voice level and calm. Sam couldn't afford to start laughing now. "So, how's the patient?" She gestured at Ian.
"Doing very well. Are you going to wake him now?" He was excited. While sitting on his chest, he'd come to the conclusion that if Ian thought highly of his Master, and she cared about him then he must be okay.
"Assume the position." Sam placed her hand at a level to jump on and he was then deposited on her shoulder. She adjusted her position, and then she remembered Time. He was dozing in a chair. Deciding it would be better if Time stayed asleep, she used her softest voice and touch to wake Ian.
"Hey, Sleeping Beauty." She stroked his temples, willing him to waken. "Ian, we are on a tight schedule here. Wake up."
He took a couple of jerky breaths and slowly opened his eyes. She's here. He felt her caress his temple, the sensation was so gentle. She's really next to me, touching me. Ian tentatively took one of her hands and held it so he could study it.
"Ian, I have to repair your bindings or, let's just say you won't be around long." Sam said gently.
"No," Ian said flatly. "I will not be bound to that man again." He caught her gaze, "I can feel the difference, and I won't do it."
"Ian, I didn't just unbind you to that monster, just to rebind you to him. You have been bound psychically so long that to sever the ties abruptly would not only kill you, but you would hurt others, innocents, as well."
"So what are my choices, Immo? You?" At least I will die a free man.
"It's only an illusion of being free. You have a long and exciting life before you. Don't throw it away." Sam pleaded. In her distress, she stopped stroking his temple. She was caught off guard by his rejection.
Ian had made no move to stand or pull away from her stroking his temple. He couldn't believe how soothing, how real her touch was. He searched her face, "What do you recommend," he didn't want this moment to end. "Who do you propose I 'bind' to?"
"For a proper binding, both parties have to agree." Sam focused on the floor; it was easier to deal with him when she was on the astral plane or in China. Her turf. She felt lost and very unsure. Right now, she'd love being back in the monastery. She understood now, why there was going to be a reinitiation back into the 'civilized' world. Dealing with mythological creatures, Incarnations and psychic mumbo jumbo had become the norm. To interact with the 21st century world and the people that inhabit it was more difficult, especially after being away so long and to return irrefutably altered. Have I become a monster without realizing it, she wondered. Of course, he wouldn't want to be bound to a monster. What was I thinking?
Ian noticed her silence and shifted to see her better. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw her eyes starting to tear. Realization slowly crept into his consciousness, this beautiful woman could deal with dragons, and he had a feeling something completely out of the ordinary happened this evening, and she had dealt with that. She was here for him. A friend, an extraordinary one had come into his life, and he was about to toss it away.
Sam pulled her hand out of his grasp. She started to stand. "I can get one of the Brothers from the monastery to bind; you won't need to worry about someone controlling you." She stood, turned and went to deal with Immo, removing the syringe from his hand.
"There are some important things you need to know." She bent down to remove the shackles from the floor. Her eyes never met his.
Ian sat up and then got to his feet. He kept trying to catch her attention with his eyes. Something told him she'd been hurt and if he didn't connect with her now, he might never see her again. She had basically freed him, so her concern for his well being was no longer an issue. Ian could tell whatever had transpired indicated he no longer wanted or needed her presence as a friend; at least that was what she'd believed.
"The man in bed, who held the binding on you, will still think he has control. You will have to act subservient. If he catches you doing something, I've implanted a phrase command, you say it, then tell him that he ordered you to do whatever." She shrugged. Sam barely touched Immo's head and then set to work setting up the room as he would expect it to be.
"When time resumes, you will need to be sitting in that chair," her voice was very soft, somewhat subdued as she gestured to the chair. "He will need to see you as you normally appear after he has hypnotized you." Sam turned to set up the chair.
Ian stepped in front of her. She started to walk around him. He blocked her path. "What did I do to hurt you?" he asked.
"You hurt me? I must say you have a vivid imagination." She laughed, but it was hollow. "You have your freedom, in a sense. In time, you will have real freedom." She started to pass him again.
Ian moved once again to block her passage. "Explain to me about bindings. Do they hurt? Can they be undone?"
"Bindings done with permission do not hurt." Her voice cracked and she turned away from him.
Alarmed, Ian took her gently by the shoulders and tried to turn her to meet him. She resisted, so holding one of her shoulders, he walked around to face her. Her head was tilted slightly and she was studying the floor intently. He placed his hand under her chin so he could look into her eyes.
"Look at me." He murmured. He stepped closer. "Please."
Slowly she raised her eyes to meet his. A tear escaped and ran down her cheek. He recognized the sadness in her eyes, identified with it. How could someone so beautiful and kind be so sad, he wondered. On some distant level he felt her emotions. Her teasing was a shield, Ian recognized now. Away from her sanctuary placed her in a fragile state. A shudder ran through him as to the reason she was here.
"My binding to you brought you here?" he spoke in a hushed tone. "You are bound to me," he paused as the ramifications crashed through his consciousness. "I didn't have your permission to bind you, and my pain seized and transported you here."
Sam did not say anything; she broke from his gaze and stared at the floor. It took this trip, she decided, to illustrate what an abomination I am. How can I expect to help anybody, if I can't earn this man's trust? She took a deep breath and forced herself to meet his eyes. "What do you want from me? You have such potential, and you need to know how to harness it. You need the bindings that were frayed temporarily rebound so you will be able to function. Tell me what you want and I will do my best to find someone worthy to help you."
"Why can't you teach me?" Inquired Ian.
"You need someone you can trust." She gave a wry smile, "and I'm obviously not one for the job."
"Why not you? You said you would be my friend," countered Ian.
"Is Immo the rat faced guy there?" She indicated the Doctor.
"Yes," replied Ian confused.
"Well when you lump me in with him, regarding bindings. I am certainly not worthy of being your teacher, let alone your friend. I don't know what I did to earn your revulsion, but I have no choice but to concede to your wishes and leave you alone."
"No," Ian was starting to feel dread. "I want you as my friend." He took her by both shoulders and pulled her to him so he could gaze deeply into her lilac eyes. "I'm sorry if I insulted you, I just…" He was grasping at words. "I don't want to have someone controlling me. I want some privacy."
He took his hands off her shoulders and carefully cradled her head in his hands, making sure she could see his very soul, if she so desired. After this he doubted she would want to bond with him. He was a fool. He met her eyes, and they had taken on the appearance she'd had when she was reading his aura. Ian was surprised when he saw her eyes begin to twinkle.
"Hmmm, very interesting." Her voice husky after being so intense. "Closer," she whispered.
Sam brought her hand up and brushed a strand of his hair off his face, lightly caressing his cheek as she did so. "Did you know, Mr. Nottingham, that you have little itty-bitsy letters on your forehead?"
Ian's body shuddered under her gentle touch. Her caresses were like water to a man dying of thirst. "Letters? What do they say?" He tried to match her light-hearted tone. It was all he could do not to clutch her to his chest and hold her.
"The itty bitsy letters say that you think you are a fool. Guess what?" She asked in a conspiratorial tone.
"What?" His hopes began to rise. He didn't want to lose her. In the back of his mind he thought, she's mine.
"You are not a fool, but then if you want to keep me as a friend, then maybe you are a fool. Very confusing. Tell me, do you think I am worthy to be your friend? I'm sure we can find someone you would be comfortable bonding to. What do you say?" She would have tilted her head, but he still held it between his hands. Absentmindly, she played with a strand of his hair, off and on softly stroking his temple. It seemed to calm him, she noticed.
"I would be very upset if you were not my friend." His eyes were drinking in every feature of her face. "If you don't mind, I would like to bind with you." He gave her a shy smile.
"I guess we have some work cut out for us. I'll show you how to do the first binding and I'll guide you through the second. First, let me wake up Time so we can have a small time pocket to work in without interruption."
Ian reluctantly let her go. He was startled by the sight of a fashion challenged individual. If that was Time, no wonder the world was so strange, he thought.