Author: Lassar
Title: One Man's Angel is Another Man's Devil
Rating: Pg-13
Author's notes: Read 'em or be confused. This is set in the Season 2 that
we should have had. There has been no spear messing with Kenneth's devious
and subtle mind. Danny is alive and well, his niece Mija has straightened
out. Joe has retired and is still alive, not yet having reason to cross
Bruno Dante. Jake is still an undercover feebie (not that it matters in
THIS story) but not yet one of the White Bulls. Ian still has a master to
serve, however much his allegiance may be flagging in the Wielder's
presence. Gabe is NOT Sara's romantic interest. In fact, he's spending the
holiday at a comic book convention called ConTraception.
The weapon and the book 'Avesta' are from the Mythology page on the
official Witchblade website. (It really is a religious text as well, but I
didn't check to see where the Witchblade site's quote came from. It's a BIG
book)
Disclaimer: If it were mine, we'd be watching season 4 reruns right now,
and the men of Witchblade would wear considerably less clothes. ; P
* * *
"Unauthorized group heading toward the library, six males, two females. Unit four, intercept and return them to the unrestricted area." There wasn't the least bit of crackle in the message, or in unit four's reply, which was about the only thing Nottingham was pleased about. The signal strength was very good, even in the midst of so much metal and stone. The fact that it was the sixth such message in as many minutes was something Ian suspected he was going to have to resign himself to.
Even though the guests were supposed to stay in the main ballroom, they inevitably found their way into the most far-flung locations. Last year the chambermaids had gotten quite a scare when an intoxicated guest passed out in the linen closet on the third floor. There he had remained until the morning shift came in to clean.
The superstitious little maids, most of whom spoke no English, had thought they had found a dead body. Considering the political backbiting and position jockeying that went on at these little events, Nottingham had been rather surprised to find the fellow alive as well. Dead would have been much more in keeping with the occasion and the season.
His musings were broken off by the crisp voice of the security dispatcher sending another team after a pair of stray guests. Two men in dark suits moved out of the shadows and down the hall after their targets.
So as not to create a jarring note, all the members of the security staff were dressed in black tuxedos with black satin masks. Although never one for dressing up, Ian was disinclined to object. The clothing was black, did not hamper movement, and came with new ear mikes. They were compact, efficient, and comfortable. The old ones always felt like they were on the verge of falling out. Best of all, the coiled cable behind the ear was gone. No matter how he confined his hair, Nottingham always lost several strands to the damn thing.
Ian moved carefully through the crush. Kenneth threw a very lavish masquerade ball each Halloween, and every year the guest list seemed to grow exponentially. There were far more people to keep track of than he would have liked, even with all the extra security that Nottingham had put on the roster.
There was one name that had not shown up on the invitation list, and Ian had been torn over whether or not he wanted to see it there. Sara Pezzini's name was strangely absent, considering Irons' rather proprietary interest in the lovely detective.
It made Nottingham's job easier if Sara was not there to distract him, for he found it difficult to pull his attention away from her whenever she was present. On a personal level Sara confused him, blowing hot and cold. Despite her prickly nature, Ian found himself continually drawn to her. He wondered what she was doing tonight, and why Irons had not invited her to the party.
Nottingham knew better than to ask, but he couldn't help wondering all the same. The fiery brunette and the artifact she carried always seemed to find trouble. He hoped, for her sake, that Detective Pezzini was taking the night off. This night above all others, the veil between worlds was very thin. There was no telling what Sara might encounter on the darkened streets.
* * *
"Unauthorized group heading toward the library, six males, two females. Unit four, intercept and return them to the unrestricted area." There wasn't the least bit of crackle in the message, or in unit four's reply, which was about the only thing Nottingham was pleased about. The signal strength was very good, even in the midst of so much metal and stone. The fact that it was the sixth such message in as many minutes was something Ian suspected he was going to have to resign himself to.
Even though the guests were supposed to stay in the main ballroom, they inevitably found their way into the most far-flung locations. Last year the chambermaids had gotten quite a scare when an intoxicated guest passed out in the linen closet on the third floor. There he had remained until the morning shift came in to clean.
The superstitious little maids, most of whom spoke no English, had thought they had found a dead body. Considering the political backbiting and position jockeying that went on at these little events, Nottingham had been rather surprised to find the fellow alive as well. Dead would have been much more in keeping with the occasion and the season.
His musings were broken off by the crisp voice of the security dispatcher sending another team after a pair of stray guests. Two men in dark suits moved out of the shadows and down the hall after their targets.
So as not to create a jarring note, all the members of the security staff were dressed in black tuxedos with black satin masks. Although never one for dressing up, Ian was disinclined to object. The clothing was black, did not hamper movement, and came with new ear mikes. They were compact, efficient, and comfortable. The old ones always felt like they were on the verge of falling out. Best of all, the coiled cable behind the ear was gone. No matter how he confined his hair, Nottingham always lost several strands to the damn thing.
Ian moved carefully through the crush. Kenneth threw a very lavish masquerade ball each Halloween, and every year the guest list seemed to grow exponentially. There were far more people to keep track of than he would have liked, even with all the extra security that Nottingham had put on the roster.
There was one name that had not shown up on the invitation list, and Ian had been torn over whether or not he wanted to see it there. Sara Pezzini's name was strangely absent, considering Irons' rather proprietary interest in the lovely detective.
It made Nottingham's job easier if Sara was not there to distract him, for he found it difficult to pull his attention away from her whenever she was present. On a personal level Sara confused him, blowing hot and cold. Despite her prickly nature, Ian found himself continually drawn to her. He wondered what she was doing tonight, and why Irons had not invited her to the party.
Nottingham knew better than to ask, but he couldn't help wondering all the same. The fiery brunette and the artifact she carried always seemed to find trouble. He hoped, for her sake, that Detective Pezzini was taking the night off. This night above all others, the veil between worlds was very thin. There was no telling what Sara might encounter on the darkened streets.