Chapter 10
Sara listened to the crackle of flame behind her, straining for an undertone of footsteps. She disliked not facing whoever the black blur was. Pezzini was not innocent enough to buy the old saw 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' Having him at her back made her shoulder blades itch, but she was going to give her eyesight as long as she could to recover. Being blind had been frightening enough that she did not want to chance a repeat until she must.
"Sara?" the silken voice that carried across the sound of fire was as familiar as it was unexpected.
"Nottingham?" Sara turned, eyesight be damned. There he stood, a vision in a black tuxedo, his hair rigorously confined so that it gave the illusion of being short. Ian really should have had a walking stick instead of a sword to complete the picture of a gentleman about town, but Sara was hardly likely to complain.
Ian's eyes widened. Sara's armor had disappeared during the fight, but he had not had time to take in what she was wearing under it. He was stricken quite speechless by the ensemble. It was very NOT the sort of thing you expected to see Detective Pezzini dressed in. His lips twitched as he struggled to contain a grin.
"Thank you. You saved my life." Sara said hesitantly. Gratitude was not something she was comfortable expressing, but she owed it to him. Pezzini knew when she was in over her head, and she had been. She was suddenly aware of the blonde pigtails that trailed from that same head, brushing against the backs of her bare knees. She fought the urge to fuss with the wig, contenting herself with the fact that it was Halloween, and everyone was dressed funny. Except Ian, he looked very dashing, definitely a far cry from his usual military surplus sale look.
"You're welcome." Ian bowed slightly. The shock was wearing off and he remembered his orders. Orders he had deviated from quite severely. At least Sara felt some form of gratitude for his interference. It warmed him, even though he knew that if he had been obedient to Irons command, he would have never intervened. If that little fact got out, it would certainly bite him in the ass. Somehow he couldn't be moved to care just now, not with those glorious green eyes gazing at him.
A sudden flare of that same brilliant white light from the battle created weird shadows that danced along the empty street front. Both turned back once the glare faded to find the corpse completely consumed. A few ashes drifted down to rest on the gleaming golden blade that lay on the pavement.
Ian looked at the blade with disbelief. He had not expected it to survive the inferno. The sunsteel could not just be left lying around. With a sigh of regret, he stepped away from Sara's side. He wondered if his gloves would be enough of a barrier between it and his flesh. After a moment of internal debate, he took off his white silk scarf. Silk was supposed to be an excellent insulator against magic, and another layer between him and the golden blade couldn't hurt. He swathed the weapon in the white cloth and turned to Sara.
Sara had watched Ian go to deal with the sunsteel, then remembered the little girl and turned to where she had left her. Her leather jacket was there, but no child. Pezzini picked up her coat and a small clay figurine dropped out. It broke as it struck the concrete.
Suddenly it was all too much. The pain in her side, the unasked for supernatural weirdness of her life, and the fact that she had almost died came down on her like a weight. Moving like an old woman, Sara struggled into the leather jacket. She was so cold.
Nottingham saw her distress, and understood its source. How could he not? He moved over to her side and offered his arm for support, uncertain whether she would take it, but hoping she would.
A black clad arm was extended toward her good side. Sara hesitated for a moment and then took it. She was glad for the warmth and support, even if it was just for a little while. Tomorrow she could go back to being her usual hard-ass self.
The two walked the last block back to where Sara had parked her motorcycle in companionable silence. They stood, neither one willing to break the moment. Ian gazed into Sara's eyes, hesitant to speak, but feeling that this moment might never come again. "Sara, I."
"Yes Ian?" Sara prompted as Nottingham hesitated.
"I just wanted to say that," Ian paused and wet his lips. If she rejected him, he wasn't sure how he would cope. He gathered his courage around him and tried to continue, "I."
Headlights bounced down the street, illuminating the pair and breaking the moment. Vicki Po had arrived to the party at last. Her rather abused Gremlin pulled in next to Sara's Buell, 'Werewolves of London' blaring from the speakers. Vicki, a.k.a. Sailor Mars, let out a little squeal as she got out of the car, "Oh, you found somebody to dress up as Tuxedo Man! That's great! Well, what are you two doing out here? It's a little cold to be making out on the back of a motorcycle! Come on!"
A different type of shock set in, one that Sara was more familiar with than Ian. Dealing with Vicki was always like this. Nottingham looked at her and mouthed, 'Tuxedo man?' After what had just happened, the whole conversation seemed terribly surreal.
"Sailor Moon's love interest of course! I can't wait to see you two dancing. It'll be just like the cartoon. Hey, put your mask back on. Nobody is supposed to know who Tuxedo Man is." Vicki had not missed the silent question, her eyes bright with glee and perhaps a little 'spirit' of the bottled variety. She grabbed Ian's free arm and dragged them both toward the church.
Ian looked over the dark head to Sara with pleading eyes. He was totally at sea. Sara suddenly saw the humor in the whole thing and began laughing. Supernatural bad guys with flaming swords didn't phase Nottingham, but one little curly haired woman had him completely cowed. "Yes, put your mask back on Tuxedo Man, you did promise me the next dance after all."
Nottingham knew he had done no such thing, but he was not about to protest. The chance to spend time in Sara's arms was not to be missed. He fished the black mask out of his lapel pocket and put it on.
He could always tell Irons he had been cementing Sara's good will. Ian was going to be in trouble enough over the sunsword, which he was far from eager to return to Kenneth after seeing what it was capable of. Spending a little extra time in the Wielder's presence was hardly going to make any appreciable difference in his punishment.
Sara listened to the crackle of flame behind her, straining for an undertone of footsteps. She disliked not facing whoever the black blur was. Pezzini was not innocent enough to buy the old saw 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' Having him at her back made her shoulder blades itch, but she was going to give her eyesight as long as she could to recover. Being blind had been frightening enough that she did not want to chance a repeat until she must.
"Sara?" the silken voice that carried across the sound of fire was as familiar as it was unexpected.
"Nottingham?" Sara turned, eyesight be damned. There he stood, a vision in a black tuxedo, his hair rigorously confined so that it gave the illusion of being short. Ian really should have had a walking stick instead of a sword to complete the picture of a gentleman about town, but Sara was hardly likely to complain.
Ian's eyes widened. Sara's armor had disappeared during the fight, but he had not had time to take in what she was wearing under it. He was stricken quite speechless by the ensemble. It was very NOT the sort of thing you expected to see Detective Pezzini dressed in. His lips twitched as he struggled to contain a grin.
"Thank you. You saved my life." Sara said hesitantly. Gratitude was not something she was comfortable expressing, but she owed it to him. Pezzini knew when she was in over her head, and she had been. She was suddenly aware of the blonde pigtails that trailed from that same head, brushing against the backs of her bare knees. She fought the urge to fuss with the wig, contenting herself with the fact that it was Halloween, and everyone was dressed funny. Except Ian, he looked very dashing, definitely a far cry from his usual military surplus sale look.
"You're welcome." Ian bowed slightly. The shock was wearing off and he remembered his orders. Orders he had deviated from quite severely. At least Sara felt some form of gratitude for his interference. It warmed him, even though he knew that if he had been obedient to Irons command, he would have never intervened. If that little fact got out, it would certainly bite him in the ass. Somehow he couldn't be moved to care just now, not with those glorious green eyes gazing at him.
A sudden flare of that same brilliant white light from the battle created weird shadows that danced along the empty street front. Both turned back once the glare faded to find the corpse completely consumed. A few ashes drifted down to rest on the gleaming golden blade that lay on the pavement.
Ian looked at the blade with disbelief. He had not expected it to survive the inferno. The sunsteel could not just be left lying around. With a sigh of regret, he stepped away from Sara's side. He wondered if his gloves would be enough of a barrier between it and his flesh. After a moment of internal debate, he took off his white silk scarf. Silk was supposed to be an excellent insulator against magic, and another layer between him and the golden blade couldn't hurt. He swathed the weapon in the white cloth and turned to Sara.
Sara had watched Ian go to deal with the sunsteel, then remembered the little girl and turned to where she had left her. Her leather jacket was there, but no child. Pezzini picked up her coat and a small clay figurine dropped out. It broke as it struck the concrete.
Suddenly it was all too much. The pain in her side, the unasked for supernatural weirdness of her life, and the fact that she had almost died came down on her like a weight. Moving like an old woman, Sara struggled into the leather jacket. She was so cold.
Nottingham saw her distress, and understood its source. How could he not? He moved over to her side and offered his arm for support, uncertain whether she would take it, but hoping she would.
A black clad arm was extended toward her good side. Sara hesitated for a moment and then took it. She was glad for the warmth and support, even if it was just for a little while. Tomorrow she could go back to being her usual hard-ass self.
The two walked the last block back to where Sara had parked her motorcycle in companionable silence. They stood, neither one willing to break the moment. Ian gazed into Sara's eyes, hesitant to speak, but feeling that this moment might never come again. "Sara, I."
"Yes Ian?" Sara prompted as Nottingham hesitated.
"I just wanted to say that," Ian paused and wet his lips. If she rejected him, he wasn't sure how he would cope. He gathered his courage around him and tried to continue, "I."
Headlights bounced down the street, illuminating the pair and breaking the moment. Vicki Po had arrived to the party at last. Her rather abused Gremlin pulled in next to Sara's Buell, 'Werewolves of London' blaring from the speakers. Vicki, a.k.a. Sailor Mars, let out a little squeal as she got out of the car, "Oh, you found somebody to dress up as Tuxedo Man! That's great! Well, what are you two doing out here? It's a little cold to be making out on the back of a motorcycle! Come on!"
A different type of shock set in, one that Sara was more familiar with than Ian. Dealing with Vicki was always like this. Nottingham looked at her and mouthed, 'Tuxedo man?' After what had just happened, the whole conversation seemed terribly surreal.
"Sailor Moon's love interest of course! I can't wait to see you two dancing. It'll be just like the cartoon. Hey, put your mask back on. Nobody is supposed to know who Tuxedo Man is." Vicki had not missed the silent question, her eyes bright with glee and perhaps a little 'spirit' of the bottled variety. She grabbed Ian's free arm and dragged them both toward the church.
Ian looked over the dark head to Sara with pleading eyes. He was totally at sea. Sara suddenly saw the humor in the whole thing and began laughing. Supernatural bad guys with flaming swords didn't phase Nottingham, but one little curly haired woman had him completely cowed. "Yes, put your mask back on Tuxedo Man, you did promise me the next dance after all."
Nottingham knew he had done no such thing, but he was not about to protest. The chance to spend time in Sara's arms was not to be missed. He fished the black mask out of his lapel pocket and put it on.
He could always tell Irons he had been cementing Sara's good will. Ian was going to be in trouble enough over the sunsword, which he was far from eager to return to Kenneth after seeing what it was capable of. Spending a little extra time in the Wielder's presence was hardly going to make any appreciable difference in his punishment.