A/N: I must apologize for the long wait. RL kicked my muses to the curb for a while and I had a mild case of writer's block. Thankfully, my muses fought back. So here's more. Enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think. Thanks. Spin =)
~*~
With the manila envelope securely held in her hand, Faith easily strolled into the busy precinct. The desk Sergeant that was managing the front had left his post to break up a fight nearby along with two other officers. Faith quickly took the opportunity and slipped the package into one of the slots of the 'In' racks.
She turned to leave but stopped when she spotted an old man with blonde hair on the pay phone. Instead of using the phone, he looked straight at her and gave her a slight nod. Just as he hung up the receiver, the double doors behind him burst open.
"Males to the right, please. Females to the left. Let's go. Let's keep it moving. Males to the right. Females to the left. Very good. Very orderly and very quiet, please." Jake ordered as he and a few other officers ushered the small crowd. "Males to the right, females to the left." Jake's commanding voice pulled Faith out of her trance.
Faith blinked and shook her head. The old man was gone. She looked around the crowded area but he wasn't there. Could that have been Lazar, the man Ian was telling her about? She had no time to contemplate over the idea she needed to leave, now. However, Sara's partner, Jake McCarty, now blocked her only exit. "Damn," she muttered under her breath when she spotted the wielder coming up from the rear.
She let out a sigh and blended into the background. Waiting for the moment to leave without being detected by Sara. Faith stood in the corner, her head lowered, but her eyes glued on Sara's every movement. Her voiced echoing in the distance, "Anyone acquainted with the deceased flesh peddler, Mr. Prospero McQueen, please raise your hands."
Nearly everyone in the crowded area raised his or her hands. It was Jake's turn to ask the questions, "Anyone not acquainted with Prospero, please raise your hands." The hands that were raised dropped and only a slight few had raised his or her hand. Jake gave his partner that 'this is going to be a long day' look. Sara closes her eyes and drops her head back for a moment. Sighing in frustration, she opened her eyes, and brought her head back forward. The blade began to swirl on her wrist and that was when she noticed the large manila envelope, with her name on it, sitting on the desk.
Faith watched as Sara picked up the package, turned to her partner and said, "Hey, rookie. Give me a minute." In the distance, Faith could here her partner, Jake, sarcastically reply, "Oh, sure. Take two, ten, an hour. Leave me here." From where she stood, Faith could see Sara's back. It was obvious she was watching the tape.
A moment later Sara got up from her desk and suspiciously looked around before closing the door. Faith could only imagine the shock and confusion Sara must be going through right now. To be watching her late father on a tape confessing the knowledge of a corrupt league of police officers. Not only that but the mention of her current captian, Bruno Dante to be the White Bulls' leader.
Speaking of the devil, Sara's antagonistic captain happened to stroll in with two other officers flanking on either side of him. Faith waited in anticipation as Sara, who was called back by Jake, reappeared from her office. All, except Faith, were oblivious to the incisive look Sara gave Dante as she passed him. Faith waited in anticipation to see if Sara would act upon her feelings after viewing the tape. Sara gave Dante one last scathing look and concentrated her anger and confusion to other matters.
"Hey, hey," Sara started confronting one of the female prostitute who was currently hassling Jake, "We got a dead pimp. Your pimp. Can you prove that you didn't kill him?"
The woman quickly stopped her protesting and stared at Sara. With a raised eyebrow she answered, "Prove it. No."
"Well then why don't you sit down and shut up."
The woman pressed her lips together in a pout, rolled her eyes at Sara, and walked away. Faith smirked as she watched how well Sara handled that woman. Sara shook her head in irritation. "May be I explained it wrong?" Jake shrugged his shoulders, "How the hell do you find the truth when everybody lies?" he asked.
"I asked my dad that question once. He answered, 'Diogenes.'"
"Diogenes?" Jake replied.
"Yeah."
"Who's Diogenes?" Jake asked again.
"Look him up," Sara shortly replied. With a sigh, Jake turned around back to his paperwork.
Sara eyes wandered over to a woman sitting on one of the benches. Her odd behavior catching Sara's attention. Unlike her friends, she sat there quietly. Trying her best not to be noticed. She started looking around the precinct, as if paranoid something was going to happen to her even while in the protective custody of over thirty police officers. Sara continued to watch her, when suddenly the blade threw her into a vision. Faith noticed the faint glow of the blade on Sara's wrist and realized what it was doing.
The blade showed Sara the deceased victim arguing with someone. She was never shown the face but from the badge that was clipped on his belt, the shooter was a cop. The blade then showed her that there was actually a witness to the murder. It was the blonde woman that was sitting in front of her.
Sara was pulled out of the vision when the same protesting prostitute snapped her fingers in front of Sara's face. "This is discrimina…" But quickly stopped, and moved on to Jake when she realized Sara was not paying any attention to her. Sara's focus was intent on the blonde woman.
Jake and the prostitute began to argue until Sara spoke up, "Hey Jake, let her go." She said over her shoulder. Not bothering to take her eyes off of the woman.
"What?" Jake answered, confused by Sara's order.
"Let 'em all go. All except this one." She pointed to the blonde woman.
"Are you nuts? We just spent the last two hours rounding 'em up."
"Cut them loose, Jake. Put this one in an overnight hold." The woman looked up when she realized that Sara was referring to her and began shaking her head. Nervously, she turned her head towards the direction where Dante and another officer were standing. Sara followed her gaze, and so did Faith. Sara recognized Orlinsky standing with Dante. She knew something was up. Therefore, she decided to find some answers with the one person who would be able to help her. "I gotta go see somebody." With that said, Sara walked off. Leaving Jake behind to handle things.
"Right now? Thanks a lot partner." Jake protested while watching Sara's retreating back.
Faith sat there for a few more minutes. Watching Dante heatingly talking to the man who was standing with him. Dante pointed in Sara's direction and the officer hurridly walked out of the precinct. No doubt ordered by Dante to follow Sara. Faith walked out and walked over to her car. After getting in she turned on the GPS and smiled, grateful that she had placed a tracker on Sara's bike.
~*~
Faith pulled up behind a car, a half a block from an old apartment building. Further, down the road, she spotted the officer Dante had sent out parked just a few cars up. She could see that he was on his cell phone, no doubt reporting to Dante on Sara's whereabouts. Faith looked out of the window, wondering who lived here.
"Sara? What are you doing here?"
"The White Bulls, Joe."
Joe Siri, Sara's retired captain, opened the door wider, ushering her inside. Before closing it, he took a quick glance out into the hall, making sure that no one was around. Reassured that she was alone, Joe shut and locked the door behind him. He began to pace back and forth, running his hands several times through his hair. Sara observed how suddenly restless he became. 'He knows,' Sara thought.
"The White Bulls, Bruno Dante, my father ... Talk to me, Joe." She nearly pleaded.
Joe sighed, shaking his head, "There is nothing to talk about."
Sara stared at him, disbelief evident on her face. How can a man she trusted, a man who practically raised her, lie to her? "Please don't lie to me, Joe." He rounded on her, "Sara, I'm out of it. I escaped with my life. I am out of it."
"Well, I'm in it." Sara countered back. "Joe, I need your help."
"No, no, not from me. I'm sorry." Vehemently, shaking his head.
Sara's heart nearly sank, how could he deny her now? "From who, then? Anyone I ask could be one of them."
"Sara, you know I care a great deal about you, but please take my advice. Stick with Homicide. Mind your own business. And try to live to retirement. It's wonderful. I've never been more happy." Trying to sound convincing.
Sara snorted, "Mind my own business? You know I can't do that, Joe. C'mon. Talk to me." She looked at him with pleading eyes, "Please," she added. Watching Joe as he battled with his conscious. Running his hand though his greying hair for the umpteenth time. Finally, his shoulders slumped and he sighed. He motioned her to sit down.
Sara placed her helmet on the coffee table in front of her and sat on the edge of the couch. She rested her elbows on her knees, clasped her hands together, and gave Joe her full attention. He walked over to the mantel, pulled something out of small box, and sat in his chair. Staring at Sara he started to speak, "The White Bulls killed your Father."
"No, Tommy Gallo killed dad." Sara corrected. The image of Gallo standing behind her father and killing him in that dirty alley flashed before her eyes.
Joe shook his head, "He pulled the trigger, but it was a contract hit."
"What?" She stared at him, "How, how do you know this?"
Joe started to explain. Telling Sara how he had been first to arrive at the scene. And what he found next to his dead partner's body. "I found this on the ground beside the body." Handing the spent shell with the bulls' engraving on it to Sara. She tore her eyes away from the bullet shell and asked, "What did you do?" Hoping that the one person that both she and her father trusted did something. She was appalled when he said he did nothing.
"What could I do? The Bulls were all around. I could feel eyes boring into my back for weeks afterwards. I know they were watching me. Marie and I were just married. We were about to have our first baby. I didn't want to be next."
Sara continued to stare at Joe; feeling betrayed by the one man that she thought she could trust. "Would you please say something." Joe begged, after a moment of uncomfortable silence.
"Uh, like what, Joe? Like, uh, like, 'That's all right?' Like, 'There was nothing you could do?'"
"I was scared," he tried to reason.
"So was dad. It didn't stop him."
"He was a better man than I am. I don't expect your sympathy, Sara. I've carried this burden ever since that night and it has cost me dearly."
"You?" Sara wanted to yell at him. She was the one that lost her father. The only family she had left.
Sara grabbed her helmet, got off the couch and headed for the door. Joe did not attempt to stop her. Sara reached for the lock but stopped and turned around, "If you can answer me one question, I'll grant you my absolution, for whatever that's worth."
"It would mean the world to me."
"Did Bruno Dante," she sneered, "Take out the contract?" Joe simply nodded his head.
For a moment Sara stood there, letting the information set in. Just as she was reaching for the handle, the door opened. "Sara?" The woman behind responded, surprised registered in her eyes. "Marie," Sara replied. "I was just in the neighborhood. And I thought….Its good seeing you both." Sara looked over her shoulder, "Joe," she nodded and walked out without saying anything else. Marie wanted to question Joe why Sara was here but he simply shook his head.
Faith glanced down at her watch and a half hour later, Sara emerged from the building. She walked over to her bike, laid the helmet on the seat, and pulled out her cell phone.
Sara pressed the speed dial and moments later started talking to Jake on the other end. Ordering him to have the woman in holding transferred into one of the interrogation rooms and that she was going heading back to the station. After hanging up, she started pulling on her gloves and helmet.
Movement up above a second story window caught Faith's attention. An old man was there looking down, watching Sara. 'Must have been the person Sara visited,' Faith thought. She watched as the older gentleman looked down to Sara and then over to the unmarked police car, parked just a few cars up.
The sound of Sara revving her bike to life echoed in the quiet neighborhood. She put the bike into gear and sped off. The unmarked police car, followed moments later. Faith stayed back a few more minutes. She looked back up at the second floor and the old man was gone. She noted the address, putting the information aside until she had a chance to speak to Ian again.
~*~
Two and a half hours later, Sara and Jake emerged from one of the interrogation rooms. They had just finished interrogating Charlene, the blonde prostitute, satisfied with what they had discovered. Verifying what the blade had shown Sara earlier that morning.
"What do you think?" Jake asked as soon as he closed the door behind him.
"I think everything is connected."
"You gonna buy that a cop is guilty based on a hooker's testimony?" Jake questioned, still not fully buying in on the idea.
Sara on the other hand knew the truth, no thanks to her mystical bracelet. "What? You think she's lying?"
Jake quickly changed his views, seeing how intent Sara was in believing Charlene's statement. "I think she's telling the truth. I don't know how you got it out of her. You barely even asked her a question. Want me to book her as a material witness?"
"No, not yet. Take her back into holding." They needed more evidence. Sold evidence and a prostitute's testimony and the Witchblade were not exactly the best resource in the courts eyes. Especially since, they were going against a New York police officer and a band of corrupt cops. Sara started back to their office.
"What? We gotta move on this." He started to protest, following up behind her.
"Jake, we can hold her for 72 hours. We still have time. Look, just put her in her own cell. Tell her to keep quiet. I gotta decide how I want to play this." Sara's mind began racing by the time she reached the door but ideas had yet to pop up. Charlene was the only witness she had that could help her take down the White Bulls. With a heavy sigh, she collapsed into her chair and buried her head into her hands.
"Sara, you gotta let me in." Jake said while closing the door behind him.
Looking up from her hands, "I will. Just not here, all right?" She cautiously glanced over her shoulder, over to Dante's closed office door.
Jake shrugged his shoulders, "Where ever you feel, Sara."
"I don't feel safe anywhere," 'Or with anyone,' but she kept that to herself. Sara absently reached up to clutch Ian's ring that hung around her neck. 'Damn it, where are you?' she thought. The image of him chained up still etched into her mind along with every thing else from the dream. She mentally shivered at the sight.
"Hey," Jake said, pulling her thoughts of that nasty image. He rested a hand on her shoulder.
Shaking her head, "Look Jake I will tell you but not now." With that said, Sara picked up a file concerning their latest case and tried to throw herself into it. Yet, her concentration wandered off to other things. The tape of her father's confessional, the discovery of the White Bulls, and their involvement in her father's murder. The vision or rather visions from the blade, and of course, Ian. Looking down at the dormant stone, Sara began to rub it. Hoping the blade would give her a hint of Ian's conditions or whereabouts.
Even the inkling of him being alive would help put her worried nerves at ease for now. Disappointed the blade remained lifeless, cold, and Sara wasn't too surprised from the lack of activity. The damn thing rarely worked when she wanted it to.
…You refer the Witchblade as a 'thing'. You continue to do so then it will abandon you…
She hated to admit, but that Faith woman was right. Though she had passed the Periculum there was so much more mysteries surrounding the Witchblade that had yet to be unlocked. She just needed to fully believe in the blade and tap into those special powers that lie hidden beneath. Sara looked down at the stone once again. Pleading with it to show her Ian. 'Show me,' she ordered yet the blade remained quiet. 'Show me!' She tried again, this time more demanding in her order.
Sara sighed, already feeling disappointed that yet again the blade was not going to show her anything. Unexpectedly the stone grew red and Sara was not prepared for the onslaught of images the Witchblade threw at her. Sara absently curled her hands into fists as she watched the violent montage unfold before her. Once again she was faced with Ian chained up in that room. Nothing but blood covered his body.
In a flash, Ian was gone, no longer chained up. Yet, someone she has never seen before was in his place. 'Where was Ian?' Her question was answered; there on a bed was Ian. His battered body wrapped up in white bandages. It was obvious that he was being taken care of. The picture then faded into black leaving Sara with another question. Who was taking care of him? Sara gasped sharply as the blade pulled her out of the vision.
Jake looked up from his paperwork and eyed Sara, "You okay?"
Sara sat in her chair, still dazed from the vision. Blinking back the haziness, she tried to answer, "Yeah, um, I'm okay." Jake watched speculatively while Sara latently tried to regain her composure. "I guess all this paperwork is just getting to me."
Jake narrowed his eyes; he was sure that wasn't the case but decided to let it go. "Yeah," he started to stretch in his chair. "Can't blame you. We've been at this for a while."
Sara spied the wall clock and was surprised that she had worked through lunch without even noticing and she was sure the blade took up some of that time thrusting her into that vision. "Shit!" She heard Jake swear. He reached for the phone and started dialing his house number since he had forgotten to take down Tasha's new cell number. "Is that really the time?" he asked. Obviously he too did not notice how much later it had gotten. "Yeah, why? What's the matter?"
"I had a lunch date with a friend of mine." He said while waiting for the phone to be picked up. "Come on, come on. Be there." Jake started muttering while listening to the continuous ringing. He sighed when the answering machine came on. Jake left a message and hung up.
"Who's Tasha?" Sara inquired.
"Natasha Marion, she's an old friend of mines. She is staying at my place for a while until she gets situated here. She just moved down here from England."
"Why is she staying with you?"
"The apartment she was lined up for didn't fall through. So, I offered she stay with me until she gets another place."
"That's nice of you Jake." Sara grinned.
"Yeah, well I can be a nice guy you know," Jake leaned forward resting his arms on the desk, "And I'm also the kind of guy you can trust too."
Sara sighed and threw the pen down. "Jake…"
"Come on Sara let me in." He pleaded.
She leaned back into her chair, studying Jake for a minute. Before she could answer him, someone knocked on their door. "Yeah," Sara called out. The door opened and a uniformed officer stuck his head in. "McCarty, the Captain wants you in his office, now."
"What about Pez?" Jake inquired.
The officer shook his head, "Just you, McCarty." He nodded respectively at Sara, "Detective Pezzini."
Sara smiled and nodded back, "How you doing McGrath?"
"So-so," he answered before leaving.
"What would Dante want with me?" Jake muttered under his breath.
"Better you them me, rookie." Sara said which was true. Especially now that she knew about the White Bulls and the scumbag's involvement in the murder of her father.
"Yeah right," Jake said before walking out.
~*~
Jake walked in, sat down in one of the chairs, and waited to hear what Dante wanted with him. "So tell me, what is it that Pezzini loves most in this world?" Dante asked. Jake leaned back into his chair and answered, "Provocative question. Why do you ask?"
"Because her temper is her Achilles' heel. And whenever she loses control of it, she makes errors in judgment. So, I was thinking, what if one by one everything that Pezzini loves starts to go away?" Jake nods his head, realizing where he was going with this. He thought about it and said, "Well, she loves that motorcycle she rides."
Dante got up from his seat and made his away around. Leaning on the corner of his desk with his arms crossed. "Keep going. Something more personal." Dante already had something or rather someone in mind. After discovering from Orlinsky that Sara had visited Joe Siri's home, he decided it was time to collect from the old man.
Outside of the office, Sara uneasily sat in her chair, occasionally glancing over her shoulder. What exactly did Dante want with her rookie partner? Could she really trust Jake? Those two were getting pretty close. Sara stared at the close door of Dante's office. More from habit, Sara started rubbing the stone of the blade. The stone glowed lightly but didn't reel Sara into another vision.
~*~
In his office, Irons leaned back into the leather seat. He sat there examining his right hand. The hand that bore the mark of the Witchblade. Since that day he tried to wear the blade he was branded with the mark, and was cursed to feel every nuances emitted from it and its wearer. That all changed yesterday. But how was beyond his grasp.
He studied the surveillance tapes repeatedly, trying to find something that might have occurred between Ian and Sara during those short hours confined together. There was nothing to demonstrate anything happening between them. At least to the naked eye. Yet, Irons knew something had transpired, however he sat there puzzled. What happened in that elevator?
Irons cast the question aside. He did not have time to dwell on such things right now and time was of great eminence for Irons. He could feel his life speeding up, feeling his body changing to accommodate his true age. While studying his hand, he noticed faint liver spots forming on his skin. His time was running out.
He needed the wielder, needed the blood that coursed through her veins. Elizabeth's blood, warned Dr. Immo, was deteriorating, and losing its potency. Therefore, he needs Sara Pezzini. Irons pressed a finger against his pursed lips, and from the corner of his eyes observed the dark figure standing in the corner.
Nottingham stood impatiently, slowly rocking back and forth on his feet. His eyes wandered around the office, his body tense, and ready to pounce. Irons could hear the leather stretching as Nottingham clenched and unclenched his hands he held behind his back. Immo's worries about this one conveyed to Irons and now the feeling was a constant twinge in the back of his mind. Irons silently sighed, he was not Ian but he will have to do. He had no time to worry about this one.
Irons turned his attention back to the flat panel screen mounted on the wall. An illustrated DNA strand animatedly displayed on the screen. He took out his pocket watch, staring down at the hand ticking away each second.
"Ian," he finally spoke. The clone snapped his attention towards Irons. "I want you to relay a message to Sara. I wish for her to dine with me tonight."
"And when she refuses you? What shall I do then?"
Irons reared his head and speculative eyed his servant. He got up from his chair and slowly walked over to Nottingham. Concealing the stupefied expression beneath a stern mask, Irons spoke. "If," Irons corrected, "She refuse then you are ordered to follow her."
Earnestly tapping the heavy handle of the cane against Nottingham's chest with each word. "Are you competent enough to comprehend such a mundane order as to follow her around?" Irons spat out.
Nottingham was fully aware that he had upset his master with his presumptuous remark. He had to fight the urge not to smirk at his master's lack of control over his emotions. "I understand," he turned his head and sneered, "Master."
"Go," Irons dismissively waved. He lowered the cane and heavily leaned on it. Was Immo right to worry about this one? Irons wondered as he watch Nottingham's retreating back. Unaware of the sinister grin spread across Nottingham's face, "Finally," he whispered. Here was his chance to meet the wielder of the Witchbalde, Sara Pezzini.
~*~