Chapter 6
The witchblade swirled and danced on Ian's wrist. It approved of this strange shadow girl and recognized her from centuries past. Maybe this would be the lifetime the Wielder and Protector would share, or not. The Controller was more powerful than ever, her influence greater than before due to their mistake in the time of David Bronte. The witchblade grimaced causing the chaotic depths of the stone to flash ruby embers of light. All of my carefully laid plans blown up in smoke by one miscalculation. A movement by the Wielder alerted the witchblade that time was running out~ for this encounter at least.
Damn it all to hell, there's that smile again! Ian wasn't sure what came over him and later could only say that he and the mystery girl had incredible chemistry. In a blur of motion he wrapped one arm around her waist and reduced the gap between them to mere inches. She had only time to utter a soft gasp before their lips met. This kiss was the exact opposite from the one at the museum. It was slow, tender and unsure. No longer buoyed up by her need to escape Sara's reluctance and inexperience was more pronounced than ever.
**
"Fuck it! Goddamn it all to Hell!" Shrieked Irons, her scar still tingling from the contact.
::Crash::
A glass paperweight made contact with the wall and shattered. Taking a deep breath Lilith straightened her cobalt gray Channel suit jacket and picked up her PDA. With the delicate ebony hued plastic pen she wrote:
Schedule for 11/11
7:30 Procure security tapes from the Midtown Museum (print out useful evidence)
7:40 Question Sara about the events preceding Ian Nottingham's possession of the Blade.
7:43 Remove suit jacket, too many dry cleaning bills in one month
7:44 Punish Sara for her deceit
That done Lilith felt considerably better, or maybe it was just the absence of heat from her scar. Sara had recovered her wits and stopped things before they escalated.
**
It had all been too much, she was tired and when tired her conditioning to remain isolated resurfaced. In one smooth move Sara had incapacitated the new Wielder, one arm was twisted behind his back and he was kneeling on the floor.
"Good bye, Lord Ian." Gracefully Sara leapt onto his balcony and dove over the edge.
"Come back!" Ian, about to have a heart attack, looked over the edge of the balcony expecting to see his green-eyed beauty splattered on the pavement. Leaning fully over the edge he was amazed, and relieved, to see not one trace of her. On the under side of his balcony Sara was shivering from the cold and at the same time attempting to suppress her laughter. The look on his face was utterly priceless. Somehow sensing her mirth Ian's look of relief turned to anger.
"Damn it! I don't even know your name! Although I suppose you'll find me when you feel like seeing me again. My own personal stalker, what a hell of a early Christmas gift." Ian muttered to the air around the balcony, sensing via the witchblade that she was still there and within hearing range too.
Her eyes clouding with hurt Sara wondered how his mood could have changed so quickly. Climbing down the side of the building she realized that she was going to be late for her meeting with Irons. What a perfect ending to such a fucking perfect day.
Ian felt a nagging sense of guilt for his last comment, something the witchblade latched onto by giving him his very first vision.
~*~
The witchblade swirled violently and suddenly Ian found himself in a large chamber. After his eyes slowly adjusted to the warm light leaking from the fire adorning the far wall he was able to discern a small girl with chestnut brown hair. She was curled up in the far corner and reading an aged manuscript.
Cautiously he walked toward her. "How the hell did I get here? And where the hell is here?" almost said out loud but caught himself just in time. Disgruntled Ian decided to settle for a simple query as to where they where. Just as his mouth opened a beautiful twenty-something blonde walked in. She exuded power and an icy coldness. He imagined that a siren from Greek mythology would look much the same as this woman.
"Sara, what have I told you about neglecting your training?"
"But mistress this *is* part of my training!" A 7yrs old Sara pouted.
"How are Victorian romance novels part of your training, dear?"
"They will help me to know how to act with the Wielder when I am older, mistress." Sara reverently placed an equally aged red ribbon to mark her place.
"Ah, Sara it is not the protector's place to know love, with the Wielder or any other man...Always remember the less emotional attachment you have the less vulnerable you'll be. Isolation is safety virginity is invulnerability."
Ian's eyes widened in realization, the young girl was his green-eyed beauty and that little exchange had just solidified all of his theories: shadow girl, Sara, was a *virgin*.....
Ian wrestled his consciousness from the witchblade after feeling a tell tale splat of moisture hit his forehead. The only thing he hated more than mornings was rain, while the one was still a few hours away, the other wasted no time in soaking his mane of hair.
Reaching up to close the window to the fire escape his thoughts again turned to his two revelations: a.) he now knew his green-eyed beauty's name, Sara and b.) she was a *virgin*! His mind added the exclamation at the end of that one still unable to process how she had managed to seduce him. Was he really so lonely that *any* kiss had such an effect on him? ****Smack****
Suddenly he felt a sharp pain on his right temple, the same one that had been wounded earlier that night. Cursing he glanced up almost expecting to meet the eyes of a murderous Sara, only to be mocked by the reflection of his own in the glass of his window. Get a hold on yourself, man, a window today a bullet tomorrow. Bruised and bedraggled Ian stepped back and allowed the window to seal his loft off from the elements. Shaking his head and cursing Sara he barely managed to stumble to his bead before collapsing.
The witchblade glittered on his wrist vainly attempting to smirk...his new host was very wrong if he thought the visions were done with....they were just beginning....
****
Dejectedly Sara climbed spider like down the building. Only her innate balance kept her from falling the remaining three stories.
She had sensed the witchblade's discontent and the effort it had taken the omniscient blade to plant the vision in his anger- clouded mind. The sides of her mouth curled up wryly, this new wielder had a quick and brutal temper...that was what separated him from the numerous pretenders. They had all been hand picked by Lilith for their apathy and indifference. Most of them were now either in jail, or the one's who angered the witchblade the most were outfitted in their very own straight jacket and padded cell. Her half smile turned to a grimace when she remembered what the witchblade did to pretenders:shook them around like broken dolls and left them broken men who still hungered for it with animal like intensity.
While that anger confirmed his identity, it also cut deeply through her armor and scorched her undeveloped heart.
*Splat*
Reaching the ground she felt a drop of water hit her cheek, turning her face up to the heavens she could discern clouds but knew that it would be at least five minutes before rain reached New York's thirsty asphalt. Cautiously she reached a hand up to her face, it was not blood the constituency was all wrong, but it was not water either~ too much salt.
Feeling a tightness in her chest and a sob threatening to voice her humiliation to the world she realized a horrible truth~ the detached and contained Sara Pezzini was crying. Lilith would have her head for this...
The heavens let loose their own volley of tears, commiserating with the girl who had never known love, kindness, or any emotion other than cool detachment and anger.
The witchblade swirled and danced on Ian's wrist. It approved of this strange shadow girl and recognized her from centuries past. Maybe this would be the lifetime the Wielder and Protector would share, or not. The Controller was more powerful than ever, her influence greater than before due to their mistake in the time of David Bronte. The witchblade grimaced causing the chaotic depths of the stone to flash ruby embers of light. All of my carefully laid plans blown up in smoke by one miscalculation. A movement by the Wielder alerted the witchblade that time was running out~ for this encounter at least.
Damn it all to hell, there's that smile again! Ian wasn't sure what came over him and later could only say that he and the mystery girl had incredible chemistry. In a blur of motion he wrapped one arm around her waist and reduced the gap between them to mere inches. She had only time to utter a soft gasp before their lips met. This kiss was the exact opposite from the one at the museum. It was slow, tender and unsure. No longer buoyed up by her need to escape Sara's reluctance and inexperience was more pronounced than ever.
**
"Fuck it! Goddamn it all to Hell!" Shrieked Irons, her scar still tingling from the contact.
::Crash::
A glass paperweight made contact with the wall and shattered. Taking a deep breath Lilith straightened her cobalt gray Channel suit jacket and picked up her PDA. With the delicate ebony hued plastic pen she wrote:
Schedule for 11/11
7:30 Procure security tapes from the Midtown Museum (print out useful evidence)
7:40 Question Sara about the events preceding Ian Nottingham's possession of the Blade.
7:43 Remove suit jacket, too many dry cleaning bills in one month
7:44 Punish Sara for her deceit
That done Lilith felt considerably better, or maybe it was just the absence of heat from her scar. Sara had recovered her wits and stopped things before they escalated.
**
It had all been too much, she was tired and when tired her conditioning to remain isolated resurfaced. In one smooth move Sara had incapacitated the new Wielder, one arm was twisted behind his back and he was kneeling on the floor.
"Good bye, Lord Ian." Gracefully Sara leapt onto his balcony and dove over the edge.
"Come back!" Ian, about to have a heart attack, looked over the edge of the balcony expecting to see his green-eyed beauty splattered on the pavement. Leaning fully over the edge he was amazed, and relieved, to see not one trace of her. On the under side of his balcony Sara was shivering from the cold and at the same time attempting to suppress her laughter. The look on his face was utterly priceless. Somehow sensing her mirth Ian's look of relief turned to anger.
"Damn it! I don't even know your name! Although I suppose you'll find me when you feel like seeing me again. My own personal stalker, what a hell of a early Christmas gift." Ian muttered to the air around the balcony, sensing via the witchblade that she was still there and within hearing range too.
Her eyes clouding with hurt Sara wondered how his mood could have changed so quickly. Climbing down the side of the building she realized that she was going to be late for her meeting with Irons. What a perfect ending to such a fucking perfect day.
Ian felt a nagging sense of guilt for his last comment, something the witchblade latched onto by giving him his very first vision.
~*~
The witchblade swirled violently and suddenly Ian found himself in a large chamber. After his eyes slowly adjusted to the warm light leaking from the fire adorning the far wall he was able to discern a small girl with chestnut brown hair. She was curled up in the far corner and reading an aged manuscript.
Cautiously he walked toward her. "How the hell did I get here? And where the hell is here?" almost said out loud but caught himself just in time. Disgruntled Ian decided to settle for a simple query as to where they where. Just as his mouth opened a beautiful twenty-something blonde walked in. She exuded power and an icy coldness. He imagined that a siren from Greek mythology would look much the same as this woman.
"Sara, what have I told you about neglecting your training?"
"But mistress this *is* part of my training!" A 7yrs old Sara pouted.
"How are Victorian romance novels part of your training, dear?"
"They will help me to know how to act with the Wielder when I am older, mistress." Sara reverently placed an equally aged red ribbon to mark her place.
"Ah, Sara it is not the protector's place to know love, with the Wielder or any other man...Always remember the less emotional attachment you have the less vulnerable you'll be. Isolation is safety virginity is invulnerability."
Ian's eyes widened in realization, the young girl was his green-eyed beauty and that little exchange had just solidified all of his theories: shadow girl, Sara, was a *virgin*.....
Ian wrestled his consciousness from the witchblade after feeling a tell tale splat of moisture hit his forehead. The only thing he hated more than mornings was rain, while the one was still a few hours away, the other wasted no time in soaking his mane of hair.
Reaching up to close the window to the fire escape his thoughts again turned to his two revelations: a.) he now knew his green-eyed beauty's name, Sara and b.) she was a *virgin*! His mind added the exclamation at the end of that one still unable to process how she had managed to seduce him. Was he really so lonely that *any* kiss had such an effect on him? ****Smack****
Suddenly he felt a sharp pain on his right temple, the same one that had been wounded earlier that night. Cursing he glanced up almost expecting to meet the eyes of a murderous Sara, only to be mocked by the reflection of his own in the glass of his window. Get a hold on yourself, man, a window today a bullet tomorrow. Bruised and bedraggled Ian stepped back and allowed the window to seal his loft off from the elements. Shaking his head and cursing Sara he barely managed to stumble to his bead before collapsing.
The witchblade glittered on his wrist vainly attempting to smirk...his new host was very wrong if he thought the visions were done with....they were just beginning....
****
Dejectedly Sara climbed spider like down the building. Only her innate balance kept her from falling the remaining three stories.
She had sensed the witchblade's discontent and the effort it had taken the omniscient blade to plant the vision in his anger- clouded mind. The sides of her mouth curled up wryly, this new wielder had a quick and brutal temper...that was what separated him from the numerous pretenders. They had all been hand picked by Lilith for their apathy and indifference. Most of them were now either in jail, or the one's who angered the witchblade the most were outfitted in their very own straight jacket and padded cell. Her half smile turned to a grimace when she remembered what the witchblade did to pretenders:shook them around like broken dolls and left them broken men who still hungered for it with animal like intensity.
While that anger confirmed his identity, it also cut deeply through her armor and scorched her undeveloped heart.
*Splat*
Reaching the ground she felt a drop of water hit her cheek, turning her face up to the heavens she could discern clouds but knew that it would be at least five minutes before rain reached New York's thirsty asphalt. Cautiously she reached a hand up to her face, it was not blood the constituency was all wrong, but it was not water either~ too much salt.
Feeling a tightness in her chest and a sob threatening to voice her humiliation to the world she realized a horrible truth~ the detached and contained Sara Pezzini was crying. Lilith would have her head for this...
The heavens let loose their own volley of tears, commiserating with the girl who had never known love, kindness, or any emotion other than cool detachment and anger.