A/N: Well, I'm back again. A little suspense to whet your appetite for the party to come. And I won't make you wait more than a day or two before I finish this. Now that that blasted dinner with Gabriel and Allyson is over with I'm having a great deal of fun with this again. I hope you have as much fun reading! Thanks for the four of you who posted reviews so quickly to last night's chapter. I appreciate it no end!
"All is ready," Ian told Irons. Sara waited a few steps behind him, dressed in her usual crop top and jeans. Ian was still in his "stalker outfit" minus the jacket. The guests would be arriving for Iron's party within the hour. All security systems, guards, servers and other personnel had been checked and re-checked by Ian and Sara. The caterers had dropped off their goods and left already. The dogs were loose on the grounds. Kenneth was already attired in a silver-gray suit of silk, immaculate from head to toe, every inch the master of his domain, rich and powerful without being gaudy.
"Thank you Ian," Irons replied, his glance including Sara as well. "Time for you to change, then."
Ian inclined his head and turned, heading out of the study and down a hallway. Sara went with him to his old room, where their outfits were carefully hung. The servants had gone over the clothes to be sure there were no wrinkles, lint, or any other flaw. Sara worked on her hair and makeup, Ian keeping her company, sitting by her side and watching with interest while she put on her makeup.
"Why is it women can't apply mascara without their mouths hanging open," he asked after she was finished. She punched his shoulder playfully, grinning. They had had this particular conversation before, and she resolved to ignore the question this time. Last time it had lead to a tickle-fight she had lost.
"Why is it bad-ass stalkers always forget to eat when they're working?" she replied. "We haven't had anything since breakfast and I'm hungry."
"If I were to slip into the kitchen and liberate a ham sandwich for you, would you be grateful," he asked teasingly, a suggestive grin on his face.
"I promise to reward you enthusiastically later, when this damn party is finally over with," she said, taking up a curling iron. "Especially if you manage to liberate a soda to go with it."
"Your wish is my command," he teased, bowing with a flourish, then heading out. She grinned after him, then turned her attention back to her hair.
A hiss from the Witchblade gave her a bare second's warning before it plunged her into a vision. She caught glimpses of a room full of elegantly dressed people that she recognized as Irons' ballroom. A man moved through the crowd, a gun in his hand, unnoticed by the socializing elite. She couldn't see his face, just that, like many others, he was wearing a black suit jacket and slacks, and his hair was dark. He raised the gun, pointing it towards where she and Ian stood with Irons, discussing something. The man pulled the trigger, the gun went off with a roar and a flash, then the vision ended. The Witchblade released it's hold on her mind abruptly, swirling red for a moment before subsiding.
~What happened, love,~ Ian asked from the kitchen, sensing her distress.
~I got a vision,~ she replied. ~Now I really need that sandwich.~
~I'll be there in a minute,~ he assured her.
When he returned he handed her the sandwich without a word, waiting until she had finished half of it before asking her anything. She told him, in as much detail as she could recall, exactly what she had seen, and he growled in frustration. There really wasn't too much to go on.
"What should we do," she asked.
"I don't know," he said. "The man you saw could have been a guest, a driver, one of our security team, anyone. Too many people wear black suits."
"And we don't know for sure who he was aiming at either," she pointed out. "It could have been a White Bull after me, or one of Irons' business rivals could have hired someone, or be bringing them, for that matter, to take him out. Or maybe someone is after you."
"Until the actual attack occurs, we have no way of knowing," Ian said. "The best we can do is be on our guard. You finish getting ready, and I'll go talk to Irons about it, see what he wants to do."
"Alright," she sighed. She hated waiting. She had the urge to do something about this attacker now. As Ian headed towards the door, she stopped him. "Hey Ian?"
"What, my love," he asked.
"Remember that if it comes down to a choice between guarding me or Irons, I can protect myself. I have the Witchblade, he doesn't."
"Thank you, my love," he said, coming over and wrapping her in his arms. He had been wondering, if it came down to it, which way he would jump. Sara understood, and had solved the problem before it could tie him in knots. His duty was to Irons, but his instinct was to protect his beloved. Now he could do his duty without hesitation. He went off to speak to Irons much calmer.
Irons was in his study, where he was having a brandy and relaxing before the guests began arriving. Ian tapped on the doorframe, then entered. Irons put down his glass, looking Ian up and down, then raised one questioning eyebrow.
"Why haven't you changed yet, Ian," Irons asked, his tone disapproving.
"Sara has had a vision, sir," Ian replied.
"Indeed," Irons said, setting down his glass and giving Ian his full attention. "And what has the fair Sara seen?"
"Someone at the party tonight will try to kill one of us."
"Tell me," Irons ordered. Ian gave him all the details of Sara's vision. Irons sat silent for several minutes, considering. "Well, I am not calling off my party because of this," Irons said. "I do not think it is one of our security guards. We have checked them too thoroughly. Concentrate on the guests and their companions, and simply forbid anyone except those on the guest list from entering. I trust you to take care of this, Ian," Irons said, clearly dismissing the matter, and Ian.
"Yes, sir," Ian said, bowing his head, and left. By the time he got back to his room Sara was slipping into her dress. He grinned and helped her zip up the back. He changed quickly into his outfit, and they stood side by side, admiring the handsome couple they made in burgundy, silver, and black in the long mirror on the back of the door.
Sara had done her makeup a little darker than usual, and added a light dusting of a shimmering silvery powder to her skin that gave the faint impression of an argent glow. There were sparkling pins set into her dark hair, and her silver and ruby heart on a silver chain Ian had given her lying on her chest. Ian had surprised her with a delicate diamond and ruby bracelet to go with the necklace after Gabriel and Allyson had left the evening before, and she had the Witchblade on her wrist as always. Her engagement ring was on her right hand, sparkling brilliantly with every movement of her finger. The rhinestone accents on the dress and shoes finished the look perfectly. Ian was incredibly handsome in the charcoal slacks and jacket, the burgundy mock-neck bringing out his eyes, his curly dark hair tumbling down around his shoulders.
"You look like a fairy-tale princess," Ian murmured in her ear.
"Then you are my tall, dark, and handsome prince," she replied, her love for him sparkling in her green eyes.
"Are you ready, my Lady," he asked.
"Lets go turn some heads," she replied.
