Chapter 10: Rumination
Gabriel sat quietly in the hallway outside Kenneth's office. 'I did have too much champagne' he decided, His head was throbbing, his throat was dry and there was an unmistakable feeling of nausea in the pit of his stomach. Of course this could also be a result of waiting outside this particular office at… He looked down at his watch, '3:30 in the morning. He swallowed for the umpteenth time trying desperately to sooth his sore throat. The only thing scarier than Nottingham himself was the man that controlled him, and while he had never met Kenneth Irons personally, his reputation for ruthlessness preceded him. Looking down the hallway he wondered where Nottingham had gone. He'd only said two words to him in the car on the way here before depositing him outside Iron's office and disappearing. "She's fine" he had muttered. Leaving Gabriel with only nine hundred and ninety nine thousand questions about what exactly had happened inside the church. Trouble was, Sara could be just as tight lipped as Nottingham when she wanted to be, which meant he just might never get the full story at all.
Nottingham quickly changed his clothes, he should be there when Iron's spoke to Mr. Bowman, it would seem strange if he wasn't. He glanced in the mirror as he smoothed his hair and noticed the multi-coloured bruise developing around his left eye. 'Irons would no doubt ask about it,' Ian thought bitterly, closing the door as he left the room. 'And he would probably relish the explanation'.
Jake sat in front of the television, shoes undone but not off, clothes still wet from the rain. He drank a mouthful of beer and sunk lower into the couch. Part of him registered the cartoons he was watching, but mostly he thought of Sara. More specifically, the sheer panic that had gone through him when he had heard the gunshots. He took another mouthful of beer. He had ran, impossibly fast up the attic stairs, knowing in the back of his mind that she could take care of herself, that she had taken down guys twice her size without even breaking a sweat, but still unable to stop himself from wanting to protect her. He finished his beer and pulled another one from the six-pack cracking it open and downing a gulp. She hadn't needed him though, for protection or otherwise, and there was no point in trying to fool himself it was the otherwise he had the problem with. He'd found her in the corner huddled intimately with Kenneth Iron's man, and she'd looked….Jake struggled to find the right word. 'Vulnerable' he decided. 'She looked vulnerable.' He finished the beer, contemplated another and decided against it. 'She had never allowed herself to look that way with me,' he thought, 'even after the accident.' She looked sad and worn out for sure, but not vulnerable.' He slowly got to his feet, kicking off his shoes and peeling off his clothes. 'Maybe I'm reading too much into this' he thought heading into the bedroom 'I'm her partner, she needs me to believe that I can count on her in any kind of situation, that she's tough as nails.' He fell into bed, exhausted 'and she'd hit the guy anyway, so it wasn't like they were ready to pick out china. Maybe he still had a chance.'
Iron's sat regally behind his desk as Nottingham showed Gabriel into the office. He stood to shake his hand and then sat down again motioning to the chair in front of him.
"Thank you for coming Mr. Bowman, especially at this late an hour." Irons glanced at Ian purposefully, but Ian did not raise his head.
"No problem," answered Gabriel taking a seat "though I kinda didn't really think I had a choice, you know."
"I hope Ian did not scare or mistreat you in anyway."
"No, no" Gabriel interjected, "he was a… perfect gentlemen." He looked over at Ian who still kept his head down giving no sign he was paying any attention to the conversation around him.
"Good, then let's get down to business." He picked up a remote, and pointed it at the wall turning on a large screen that displayed an image of the witchblade. "Do you know what this is?" he asked.
"Should I?" Gabriel a little warily.
"Come now Mr. Bowman let's be honest with each other." Irons came around to the front of his desk and sat in front of him. "I know that you have developed a relationship with the enigmatic Ms. Pezzini and I find it hard to believe that she would not have mentioned it. Especially to a man of your many talents.
Gabriel cleared his throat. "It's called the Digitabulum Magae or the witchblade, once worn by Joan of arc…among others."
Irons almost clapped in elation. "Exactly, Mr. Bowman, exactly. And at this moment in time it has chosen Ms. Pezzini as it's vessel, a problem I would very much like to rectify."
Gabriel smirked. "A problem huh, and you think I'm going to help you?"
"Believe me Gabriel, this need to separate Sara from the witchblade does not come from a place of malice, quite the opposite in fact." He stood and walked over to the screen, "The witchblade is a burden not weathered well by most, it invariably consumes the wearer, look at the fate of Joan of Arc.
Gabriel looked over at Ian again, he had now raised his head but stared wistfully out the window, lost in his own thoughts.
"After the accident last week, I am quite sure that it would be best for everyone if it was returned to my collection."
"Why don't you just ask her for it?"
Kenneth laughed, "I'm sure in your line of work you have read about things that defy normal logic, that have a certain… mystical quality about them. Simply put, it will not give her up that easily."
"What is it you want from me…exactly?" asked Gabriel.
"Relax Mr. Bowman, there is no sinister plot unfolding here, I only need your assistance in locating a book." He went back around his desk and picked up a piece of paper which he handed to Gabriel. "It is an old text offering alternate histories regarding the witchblade, that I have been unable to locate."
Gabriel took the paper and tucked it into his jacket pocket. "I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you," said Kenneth turning back to whatever had engrossed him before Gabriel had entered, "Ian will see you out and my chauffeur will take you home." Gabriel stood and nodded following Nottingham as he led him out of the office.
He wasn't quite sure what to think. Irons obviously wasn't being altogether candid about his real reason's for wanting the witchblade, but if he was right about what it could do…or was doing to Sara, did it matter?
Sara lay still on her examining table/bed. Her neck hurt, and her hand hurt and there was another pain inside of her that she refused to acknowledge. 'It hadn't been real,' she reminded herself, 'it was just another vision brought on by the strange piece of jewelry on her wrist'. 'But it had felt real, like all her other visions, real enough to knock the wind out of her, real enough to hurt….and that's what was really bothering her, the images were fake, but the way she had responded to them wasn't. In the store…buying cupcakes,' she smiled, 'she'd felt something, something that had resembled peace. A moment later it had been torn away from her as he lay dying in her arms…..as Nottingham lay dying in her arms.' Sara closed her eyes tightly trying to block out the image. 'The man who had killed him spoke of fate, he'd said it was her destiny to join him, to usher in a new era of war.' Sara raised her hand and looked at the witchblade, it lay silent on her wrist. 'And he'd been able to control her, revert the blade from it's gloved form, that could definitely be a problem.' She looked over at the clock on the wall it was 4:00 am, she could go home in a few hours. Sighing softly she thought to herself, 'I shouldn't have hit him, I shouldn't have…hit him.'
"I know what you're thinking Ian" said Kenneth when Nottingham returned to the office. "Why on earth am I discussing the witchblade with Gabriel Bowman? Being that he is a known cohort, confident and admirer of Ms. Pezzini."
"The thought did cross my mind" answered Ian.
"And?"
"And I realized that you intend to use his fondness for the wielder to your advantage, if he believes the witchblade to be harmful to her, he will perhaps aid in you in getting it back."
"My very own mentat" said Irons proudly, "Bravo." He clicked the remote again and brought another image of the witchblade up on the large screen. "While you were out gallivanting with Mr. Bowman, I discovered something."
Ian looked up at the screen.
"There is an ancient text that alludes to a different method of creation for the blade. That not only speaks of the rare metal it is crafted from but maintains that the red jewel is actually made up of three gems of power." Ian's eyes flickered slightly at this news. "And here is the real kicker Ian" Kenneth said gleefully. "One gem is missing."