A/N: Once again, sorry for the long wait. RL and everything else has been against me as of late. Any way, to make it up, here is a really long update. Enjoy and don't forget to review. =)
~*~
Sara stared vacantly at the case file in front her. Too rapt in thoughts of Ian and the White Bulls, and unaware of what was happening outside of her mind. "Hey, Pez?" Jake called out irritability; the incisive sound of her pen tapping against the top of her desk was clearing getting to him. Sara didn't respond and continued her absent drumming. Having enough, Jake reached across the desk and grabbed Sara's hand. Stopping the annoying sound. The touch pulled Sara out of her trance, "What?" she snapped back.
"Do you mind?" Jake replied, pointing at the pen in her hand. Sara looked down and realized what she must have been doing. "Uh, sorry," she apologized. Jake sat back down eyeing her speculatively. "You okay?" he asked, "You've been sort of out of it for the past hour."
"Huh?" Looking up bemused, Sara shook her head and added, "I'm fine. I just got a lot on my mind right now." After a few minutes of blankly staring at the file in front of her, Sara decided to give it up for now. "You know what," she said, closing the folder, "I gotta go."
Jake looked up, "Wha…where are you going?"
She walked over to the coat rack grabbing her leather jacket. While putting it on she answered, "I have someone I need to see."
"Again? Who?" He asked a bit irritably.
"Its none of your business." She replied, snatching up her helmet off the empty chair near her desk.
"You haven't been acting yourself all morning, spacing out and not hearing a word I've said. This morning you take off without telling me, and now," Jake paused, "Look I think I at least deserve some answers."
"You're not my keeper, Jake. So back off." Sara snapped back while heading for the door.
Jake threw his pen down on top of his desk, highly frustrated. "Yeah, but I'm your partner, Pez. And partners are supposed to trust each other, remember?" Sara stopped, one hand already on the doorknob, "Cut me some slack, Pez. I'm also your friend."
Sara sighed, with her back facing him she said over her shoulder, "Alright, Jake. Cafe Enigma, around the corner from my apartment. Eight o'clock tonight."
Jake nodded his head and grinned, "I'll be there, partner."
"Yeah right," she mumbled and left the office.
From his office, Dante watched Sara leave. His eyes wandered over to Jake who was standing in the doorway. Jake turned around to head back in his office when he caught Dante staring him at him. He nodded his head in acknowledgement. Dante doing the same. Their earlier conversation running through both their minds. Could he trust, Jake? Was the kid loyal to Bulls or that bitch, Pezzini? Soon enough Dante was going to test him and see if he passed or failed. Jake headed back into the office, shutting the door closed. Dante continued to watch Sara.
She soon turned the corner and disappeared from site. Dante headed back into his office and contemplated on other issues he needed to concentrate on. The information of Sara's visit to Joe Siri's home did not sit well with him. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a bullet with the Bull's signature engraving on it. He studied the bullet before placing it in his pocket. "Too bad, Joe." He said aloud.
Sara pushed the door open with her shoulder. Too busy concentrating on putting on her gloves; she didn't notice the black clad figure waiting for her on the sidewalk. As she reached the last step, a glove slipped from her fingers and landed on the ground. She bent to pick it up but someone else had beat her to it. She straightened up and stuck her hand out, ready to retrieve her glove from the stranger. "Thanks," she started but stopped when she looked up. 'Oh my God,' she thought, 'Ian!' The site of him standing before her was a contradiction to the last image she remembered.
"You're welcome, Detective." Nottingham contemptuously replied, his voice cold and menacing. Lacking the respect his predecessor had for her. From the beginning, Nottingham neither hid nor hinted that he shared in his 'brother's' feelings for the wielder. Yet, now up closer to the wielder, he could understand how both his brother and master would fall for her beauty. He boldly eyed Sara up and down. A sneer forming on his lips, remember what he had seen in the early morning hours during his watch over her. Her supple body thrashing about in her bed. He started caressing her leather glove in his hand as he continued to stare.
An icy sensation coursed through her body, causing her to shiver. The way he was looking at her made her skin crawl. He wasn't the same Ian that she knew. Besides the obvious difference in appearance, his eyes lacked the emotion Ian would have in them. Instead, a feral void, hinted with darken lust, reflected in his eyes. Something was not right. The blade on her wrist did nothing to give her any indication of danger.
…You're little toy doesn't seem to work against me…
Ian had told her that night in the alley. 'Ian,' she thought. Then she recalled a memory. The image of a man, this man, flashed in her mind. This is not Ian Nottingham. At least not the Ian she had been accustomed to since that first day at the museum. Her heart started to race.
Nottingham's sneer grew wider, revealing in Sara's reaction to his presence. 'Did she know?' He wondered.
"What he hell are you doing here?" Sara snapped with her incisive tongue hoping to belie the fear.
Nottingham grinned, 'apparently not,' he thought. "I've come to express my master's wishes for you to join him tonight for dinner."
Sara snorted, she wanted nothing more then to stop by and pay a visit to that bastard but not yet. "Well you can go back and tell your 'master' no."
"So you are refusing."
"You deaf all of a sudden, Nottingham? Look go back to your master and tell him I said 'fuck you'. Now, be a good boy toy and go back to your master. How's that?" Sara retorted, just wanting this conversation to end and for this person to leave. For the first time she was scared. It appeared that the blade was not going to work against him, and the Ian she knew was missing. Who was going to help her now?
Faith jumped out of the car the moment she spotted the clone. 'Something was not right,' her mind racing with questions. What was her father up to? Why was he permitting this clone, this thing, to make contact with the wielder? Faith stood rooted in place, unsure what to do next. Should she confront him? Too late. The decision was taken from her when Sara appeared from the precinct.
Faith's body grew tense with apprehension as she watched from a distance the confrontation between Sara and the clone. It looked like everything was going all right. Nonetheless, Faith readied herself, ready to fulfil the duty bestowed upon her as the wielder's temporary protector if needed. There was nothing she could do now. Faith, who stood not far from the two, prayed that the wielder knew the difference. She held her breath, waiting for any insignificant sign to charge in.
Nottingham laughed at Sara's retort; "I will relay your message to my master."
"Good, now get the hell away from me." Sara reached forward to snatch her glove from his hand but he was too quick.
He took her glove and started gliding the leather material against his bare face. He grinned at her, "Do you like my new look," he paused, staring at her with those dark eyes, "Sara?"
Another cold shiver passed through her body. Concealing the sullied feeling, she felt when he used her name Sara answered, "What's the difference? You still look like your master's bitch. Just less hairy."
Nottingham's grin faded and his expression grew incensed. He had let the 'boy toy' reference slide but not this time, "Looks who's calling me the bitch." He sneered, reaching out to touch her face but Sara slapped his hand aside. Nottingham grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer to his body. "Let go," she demanded.
"Or what? You'll use your magical little bracelet against me?" He used his other hand, the one holding her leather glove, and started caressing her face with it.
"Detective Pezzini? Everything all right?" Nottingham looked behind Sara to see a uniformed officer standing at the stop of the stairs. He slowly stepped back, then released her captured wrist. Sara tried to slow her racing heartbeat. She looked over her shoulder and saw Officer McGrath standing there. Stifling a sigh of relief she answered, "Yeah, everything is cool."
"Is this gentleman bothering you, Detective?" McGrarth's attention focused on Nottingham. His hand twitching to reach for his sidearm.
Nottingham snorted and waved off the officer's bravado. He looked back at Sara, "Good-bye for now, Sara." He handed Sara back her glove and she snatched it from his hand, hoping that he didn't see it trembling. Nottingham turned around and started walking away. "By the way," he stopped and turned around, "That wouldn't happen to be my ring, would it?" Sara reached up and possessively clutched it in her hand.
"Believe me this ring doesn't belong to you. I'm safe keeping it for the real owner."
Nottingham snickered, "Until next time then, wielder."
"Who was that guy, Detective?" Officer McGrath curiously asked, walking up beside her. "You don't want to know." Sara warned, giving a contemptuous look at Nottingham's retreating form. He turned a corner and disappeared. It was only then Sara felt safe enough to turn her back. "Thanks, McGrath." She clapped him on the back; "I'll see you tomorrow." Sara said before heading towards her bike.
"So, what was that all about?"
Sara stopped in her tracks. Here was someone she wasn't expecting to see. "Are you stalking me?" Surprisingly, Sara didn't feel at all threatened by her presence now. Then again, after her encounter with Nottingham, she would have welcomed anyone's company, even Dante.
"To stalk is to pursue quarry or prey stealthily. To walk stiffly or haughtily." She defined. Sara just rolled her eyes, shaking her head.
"What you're a dictionary now?" Sara sarcastically replied, walking over to her bike, balancing her helmet on top of the gas tank so she could finish placing her other glove on.
Faith pushed off from the wall and gradually paced closer. Relived that Sara chose not to aim her weapon at her this time, yet her charming attitude was still in full effect. "I have been referred to as an encyclopedia once or twice but never a dictionary." Faith noted.
Sara raised her brows while shaking her head. "You're certifiable," Sara accused. Faith just shrugged it off as if it was nothing new. She had to be a little insane, especially the life she's been leading. A father whose been lusting over a mystical weapon and its wielder. A psychoneurotic pretender for a mother. A brother, who's been physically altered by drug enhancements, and to top things off, has an evil clone wondering the streets of New York. Faith was surprised she still had some of her sanity left.
Sara continued, "But it still does not explain why you are stalking me."
Faith sighed, "Three things, Detective. One, well, as you can see," Faith empathized spreading her arms out, "I am in no way concealing my presence from you in a stealthy manner." She shrugged her shoulders; "It is not my fault you don't see me when I'm around. Two, now take no offense in this, Detective, but you're not my type of prey." Faith snickered. Sara lifted her brow speculatively. "And three?" she said.
"Three, I am not the one stalking you, Wielder." Faith looked over Sara's shoulder, eyeing the spot where the clone stood just moments ago.
"What did 'he' want?" Faith asked, not mentioning his name. In any case, there was only one Ian Nottingham in this world and it was not the clone.
"Not that it is any of your business but Irons invited me over for dinner."
"And you said no, of course?"
"That and a few other things."
Faith smiled imagining what other colourful words Sara had expressed. "For a cop, you're pretty smart. Though, I will give you some extra advice and I hope you actually take it to heart. Stay far away from those two. Irons is becoming a desperate man, and that 'person' is out of control. A very dangerous duo. So, don't be stupid to think you can take those two on by yourself even with the blade as back up." Faith's smile grew somber, "By the way, what else did 'he' want with you?" Remembering how roughly the clone had handled Sara.
Sara shook her head, unsure, "I don't know what…Nottingham wanted."
"That thing is not Ian Nottingham," Faith informed. She had hoped Sara was able to tell the difference. She narrowed her eyes on Sara, surprised that there were no bombarding questions pertaining to her conviction. But maybe Sara already knew. "And you know it too don't you, Sara?"
Sara nodded her head remembering the icy chill she felt when she was near him, "Who is he?" she asked, hoping that Faith would give her an answer.
Faith shrugged her shoulders, uncertain of how much she should tell Sara about the clone. "A sick, dangerous, and out of control creation." This was as close she was going to get to the truth.
"Great, just great." Sara muttered under her breath. She started at the top of her helmet, lost in thought. Then finally she aske, "You know where bhe/b is, don't you?"
"Who are you talking about?"
"Cut the bullshit. You know exactly who I'm talking about. Where is Ian Nottingham?"
"Why do you care all of a sudden, huh? From what I've heard, you despise Ian Nottingham." Faith said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Sara reaches for the ring, grasping it between her gloved fingers. "I don't hate him," she whispered. Shaking her head, "You wouldn't understand."
"Oh, I think I would, Wielder." Faith answered, remembering her earlier conversation with Ian. And the talk she planned to have with Sara about it. But now was neither the time nor the place to make a scene. Especially with the clone watching Sara. At that moment, a black Jag crept out into plain view, and there in the driver's seat was the clone. Apparently, the clone did not know the definition of stalking. He may look like Ian but the clone lacked what Ian had gained over the years, experience. Which was a small advantage.
"Look, please just tell me. Where is Ian?"
Faith grins noting the plea in Sara's voice, "If you really want to find him, Sara. Why don't you use that?" She nods at the Witchblade.
Sara looks down at the dormant blade, "Wha…" but when she looked back up Faith was gone. Typical, she thought. She should have known better then to take her eyes off her. Sara looked back down at the bracelet and asked it to show her Ian. This time it refused to show her anything. "Damn it," she swore before mounting her bike. She revved it up and started speeding towards Gabriel's place. Not far behind the clone and Faith followed in their cars.
~*~
Faith was mildly surprised to have followed Sara to Gabriel's place, it was only a matter of time and she was sure Ian would love the surprise. But her mood quickly changed, alarmed when a familiar black car pulled up just seconds later. "Shit," Faith swore as the clone got out and proceeded to cross the street. Following Sara, who had already disappeared inside, into the building. Faith immediately got out of her car and started making her way towards the back of the building, planning to use the fire escape to gain access into Gabe's apartment. She fished out her cell, hoping to give Gabriel the heads up on some unexpected guests but only got the answering machine.
As she neared the building, she could actually hear music wafting from the apartment. It was a wonder how Gabriel managed not to go deaf. 'It explained why he did not answer the phone,' she thought while swiftly scaling up the fire escape.
Faith made it to Gabriel's bedroom window and was surprised to see them, let alone in the same room, together, and talking. 'What are they up to?' she wondered. She pushed the thought aside not having the time to contemplate over the issue right now. They had more pressing matters to think about. Sara making unexpected visits with an evil clone hot on her trail.
Faith picked the lock and slid the window open. "Hello boys," she greeted while climbing through the window. Gabriel jumped up from his seat and Ian eyed her speculatively.
"Faith, what are you doing climbing through my window?" Gabe pointed at the opened window behind her.
"Oh," she started sarcastically, "I thought this might be faster, Angel."
Still confused Gabe scratched his head and said, "Okay, why didn't you just use the door like normal people? I hear it's less strenuous."
Faith grinned, "Nothing like a good climb to get the blood flowing, Angel. Besides where's the fun in walking through the door?"
"Faith?" Ian finally spoke out having enough of their banter.
"Because there is a couple of people out there I do not wish to encounter at the moment." She answered.
"And who would that be?" Gabe asked.
"Sara," Ian replied, feeling her presence just outside the apartment. He sat up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. He started to push his battered body off the bed but Faith quickly came around, placing a hand on his shoulder, and halted him from moving further.
Was she really going to deny him this chance to see Sara? Ian looked up at her, begging, "Please Faith I need to see her." Faith looked down at those pleading eyes of his. Before answering, she pointed at Gabriel and said, "Go lower that racket you call music down a decibel or two and greet your guest. And by all means Angel don't let Sara know we are here."
"Yeah sure," Gabe nodded his head, leaving the room.
"Faith," Ian began to protest but she stopped him.
"Ian, there is another person, besides Sara, I truly do not want to see."
"Who?"
"The clone."
Ian's body tensed up, the color draining from his face.
"He's here?" Ian whispered.
"Yes, he followed Sara soon after she left the precinct." Purposely leaving out the meeting.
Ian looked at Faith. Something was not right. "What aren't you telling me?"
She sighed, knowing better then to keep things from him. He could read her like an open book, and vice versa. "He confronted Sara prior to her leaving the precinct."
Ian gripped the side of the bed, his fingers digging into the side, and crumpling the sheets beneath them. "What happened?" Ian asked. Faith sighed, there was no way around not telling Ian and so she explained the confrontation. "Did he touch her?" he said through gritted teeth. Seething at the very thought of that 'thing' touching her.
Warning bells chimed loudly in Faith's mind. She knew that voice and recognized the look in his eyes. Faith was sure Ian was seeing red. She did not answer him right away. The wrong words would set him off. Faith reached forward, pried his fingers from the bed, and held his hands between hers. Trying to anchor him down so he wouldn't go sailing through the door like some enraged beast.
Faith took a second too long to answer and Ian already knew. Ian ripped his hands from Faith's and quickly stood up, not bothering to wince as his body cried out in pain from the sudden movement. Luckily, Faith was much quicker and had reached the door first, blocking his path. "Out of my way," Ian growled. Faith was not the least bit intimidated but she was getting frustrated. Ian was not thinking of the bigger picture. "Listen to me Ian!" she held out her arm, her palm firmly pressed against his chest. "You confront the clone now, especially in your condition, not only do you compromise your life but those around you. Gabriel's, mines..." it didn't seem like her words were getting through to him. Not until she said the magic words, "And Sara's as well." The words were like a splash of cold water, quickly bring him him back to his senses. The red he had been seeing faded from his eyes and his vision was getting clearer.
"Remember Ian this thing was created to be your replacement. This means physically he far exceeds you. He may lack the experience you have but he still shares your skills. What's worst is that this thing, has no conscious, no control, and no fear. And that makes him highly dangerous.
What makes you think you can win against him when you are only half healed? If he manages to get through you, and then me who will be left to protect Sara? Gabriel?" Faith shook her head no. "And we cannot rely on theWitchblade either? Have you forgotten the blade does not work against you. This clone, who was created from your DNA, has a part of you is in him. Do you think the blade will recognize the difference? Are you willing to take that risk? That chance on Sara's life?" Ian lowered his head, his shoulders slumped as her words sank in.
"I did not think so," Faith said. Ian walked back to the bed and sat down. He felt helpless. Faith sighed and knelt in front of him. She gently grabbed his face between her hands. "I promise, you will meet your lady soon. Just not now." He submissively nodded his head.
~*~
Outside of Tailsmanic, Sara stood waiting for Gabriel to answer the door. From the shadowed corner at the end of the hallway, Nottingham watched. Sara leaned her head closer to the door when she noticed that the music had been lowered. She started pounding on the door again. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Gabriel yelled back. Before working on the locks, he looked over his shoulder towards the closed bedroom door. Faith's warning running through his mind. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and then opened the door.
"Hey Chief," Gabe greeted as calmly as he could.
"Damn, Gabe. How do you manage not to go deaf?" Sara joked, making her way pass him.
"Hey if it's too loud, you're too old," Gabe teased back. Keeping up with the easy banter. He locked the door behind him then followed Sara deeper into the apartment.
Nottingham stepped away from the corner and walked over to the front door. He leaned his head closer, hoping to hear what was going on inside. All he could make out were muffled voices. Nottingham decided to find other means to watch Sara. From inside the apartment perhaps. Recalling seeing a fire escape behind the building. He walked out and made his way around to the back. He immediately spotting Gabe's opened, bedroom window and started to climb up the metal stairs.
Suddenly a loud shattering sound echoed through the alley. Nottingham stopped in his trek and turned to survey the origin of the sound. There at the end of the alley was an old man, strings of dirty blonde hair stuck out beneath his cap. His knowing eyes boldly staring at Nottingham.
Up in the bedroom both Ian and Faith clearly heard the crash. Alarmed, Faith moved over to the window to see what was going on. On the fire escape not far below her was the clone. His attention temporarily diverted to a familiar figure at the end of the alley. 'Definitely have to find a way to thank Lazar.' She thought but said aloud, "Ian, quickly we must hide. The clone is on his way up." Faith informed. Her mind started to race. Just outside the door was Sara, and down below was Nottingham. Gabriel's room was not exactly spacious. Where could they possibly hide?
Nottingham shook his head as if coming out of a short trance. He looked back to where the old man was only to find the spot empty. Confused, he scanned the open alley but there was no sign of him, the man had completely disappeared. After a final sweep of the area, Nottingham returned to climbing up the fire escape. He quietly crawled in. The room was a mess. A large mound of clothes was piled up in a corner of the room, near the closet. The rest were scattered all about the room. To his right was the bathroom, which left only one other door unaccounted for. Nottingham walked across to the door, slightly cracking it open so he could see outside. He immediately spotted Sara and her friend, deep in a conversation.
After locking the door behind him, Gabe had followed Sara to his desk where she had sat down in one of the chairs. He took the other chair and sat across from her. Without realizing, he started to bite his nails. A bad habit he started whenever he got nervous. Sara noticed it, "You okay?" She asked.
Gabe stopped and dropped his hands onto his lap, "So, um, what's up?" Quickly changing the subject. Sara pushed aside his evasive manner and started to ask, "White Bulls. Ever heard of them?"
Gabe thought about it for a minute then said, "Uh, racist cops? Alabama ... George Wallace?"
"Wrong," Sara replied.
"Albinos in Pamplona?" He guessed again. Though he already had an idea what they were but was puzzled why Sara would start asking him about it.
"Last chance, Gabriel."
"Why don't you tell me."
"Dirty cops. Right here in New York. I need an overnight education." She said.
He hesitated for a moment. Sara looked at him suspiciously, wondering just how much he knew. Acquiescently he started to say, "All right. I got this one client. A real conspiracy nut. I don't listen to half of what he says, but his checks don't bounce. You know?" Sara nodded her head. "He hates cops. Collects brutality memorabilia ... ax handles, lynching nooses ... Stacy Koon's Rodney King nightstick. I got five figures for that ..." Gabe added, remembering how much he got during that transaction.
Weary with the irrelevance on what Gabe banked on a certain item, Sara urged him to continue before he went on a different tangent, "OK, Gabriel, fast forward."
Gabe shrugged his shoulders, "Nothing! He ... he's mentioned the name once. I thought it was his usual nutbag B.S."
"Well what did he say?"
"He swears they have this engraved bullet they use to kill people. I have a standing offer for fifty grand if I can deliver a real one."
Sara's body tensed. She reached into her jacket pocket; fingering the bullet, her father had left her. She stared at Gabriel, debating whether she should get him involved. But he was the only person she could truly trust. The blade chose that moment to send her an image of Ian and Faith. Why was it showing her them? She couldn't understand. "You OK?" Gabe asked, snapping Sara out of her trance. "Uh, yeah. I'm fine. Listen Gabe I need your help."
"Sure, what's up, Chief?"
"This," she pulled the bullet from her pocket, holding it up between her forefinger and thumb, "Is a standard-issue Smith and Weston soft-tip, except for one thing." Turning the bullet around so Gabriel could see the engraving on the round. "Ha…holy," his eyes grew wide as he recognized the symbol for the White Bulls. Sara continued, "Now do you think you can find out who in the city could and would tattoo a bullet this way? More precisely, who did this?"
Gabe took the bullet from her, studying the engraving. "Yeah, sure I'll see what I can do."
"Look do what you can to find the engraver. But be so careful." She stressed.
"Yeah, don't worry." He shook his head, already having a person in mind to ask.
"No, all I do is worry. I wouldn't even ask you to do something like this, but I'm desperate."
"You can count on me, Chief."
She stood up and said, "Thanks, Gabriel."
"Mmhm," was all he said, still inspecting the bullet.
He was so caught up in the bullet he did not see Sara heading for his bedroom. "Hey, Gabe. I'm going to use your bathroom then I'm leaving. Gotta meet Jake later tonight."
It took a second before the question registered to his brain. He jumped up and ran across the room, yelling, "NO! Wait!" By then, Sara had already opened the door and walked into the room. Gabe grabbed onto Sara's shoulder, jerking her back, and halting her from moving further. He was surprise to find it empty. "Wha… what is with you?" Sara asked, shrugging off Gabe's hand.
"Uh," his eyes darted around the room, figuring out where they could be. Until he noticed that, the window was still open. "Well, I, uh," Sara waited for an explanation, "I didn't want you to see my mess."
Sara rolled her eyes and snorted. She looked down and picked up a piece of clothing off the floor. Quirking an eyebrow she said, "Oh, you mean like these Superman boxers?" she dangled the underwear between her fingers. Gabe turned bright red. He snatched them from her and hid them behind his back. "Exactly," he said.
"Besides, uh, the toilet is, um, broken." He lied.
"Really?" Sara eyed him speculatively.
Gabe nodded his head, "Yup, broken."
"Huh," was all she said. Something was not right and his behavior had been odd the whole time she was here. She did not quite believe him but did not bother to push it. "Oh, well, I'll just have to wait till I get home." Sara turned to leave when something caught her eye. Moving over to the bed, she leaned down to inspect the sheets. There were a few red spots on the white sheets that, to her, looked like blood. Not knowing why she reached out to finger the ring dangling from the chain. Something was vaguely familiar about this bed but wasn't quite able to pin it down. Sara reached out to touch one of the red marks.
Gabe nervously started biting his nails again. He had to find a way to distract Sara. "Hey Chief?" He called out. Sara stopped and looked up at him, her hand hovering over the bed. "Ah, why don't you give me a lift before you meet up with Jake. Want to get a head start on this engraving research for you." She blinked a few times confused, then remembered about Jake and their meeting. She glanced at the alarm clock, realizing it was getting late. "Yeah, sure."
Sara tore her eyes and hand from the bed and started scanning the room. She just had this feeling that there was something more other then Gabe's dirty laundry lying about in the room. "So, why are you meeting up with Jake anyway?" Gabe continued with the distraction, "Don't tell me it's a date, Chief. I mean you and McCarty?" He eyed her suspiciously.
That got Sara's attention, "What? No," vehemently shaking her head, "Its not what you think."
"Then what's the deal?"
Sara sighed, "I owe Jake an explanation."
"Explanation of what?" Gabe asked. Sara gave him a look. He held up his hand, "Whoa, are you going to tell him about the Witchblade?"
Sara shook her head, "God no, he'll think I'm crazy. But I may tell him about the White Bulls. He is my partner and as of late he has been getting the shit end of the stick because of me. I owe him at least that. Who knows maybe he can help me out."
"I don't know Chief can you trust your partner?"
Sara absently rubbed the stone of the blade hoping it would give her a warning or a clue about Jake. Nothing, again. "I don't know. I'll just have to find out."
"Well just be careful, Chief." Gabe ushered Sara out of the room, grabbing his jacket before closing the door behind him.
"Yeah, yeah I will. Come on let's get out of here." Sara picked up her gear and they both headed for the front door.
Faith cautiously crept out of the closet when she heard the front door close. She immediately moved over to the bedroom window and watched as the figure of the clone disappeared rounded the corner. She rushed to the door and stepped out into the front of the apartment. By the time, she reached the window, Sara and Gabe was already speeding down the street, the clone following not far behind. She let out a sigh of relief.
"Next time I get the closet and you hide underneath Gabriel's clothes." Ian said from the bedroom doorway tossing one of Gabe's undergarments over his shoulder. Faith shook her head, "Thankfully there won't be a next time and I won't have to risk my health hiding under Angel's clothes. I'd rather confront the clone then stick myself under there." She teased.
Ian tensed at the mention of the clone, "What shall we do now?"
Faith raised her eyebrow, "We?" she shook her head. "No, Ian. I will go out. You will stay here, rest, and wait for Gabriel's return." Speaking of her Angel. Just where did he go? Faith looked out the window, an uneasy feeling settled over her. Whatever Sara had asked him to do would somehow compromise his safety somehow or worst his life. She needed to find out as soon as possible.
"What will you do?" Ian asked as he settled down into a chair.
Faith thought for a moment. There were a number of possibilities she could do right now. Continue her surveillance over Sara or maybe pay a visit to her father. Perhaps she would do both. She walked over to Ian, "I will do what is needed, brother." Giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "And what will you do, Ian?" her eyes narrowing on him.
He sighed, "I will stay here and rest."
"Good," she smiled.
~*~
Bells started to chime as the door to the small antique shop opened. "Hey, hey. Mr. Bankstrom, thanks for staying open. I appreciate it." Gabriel said as he walked in.
The older gentleman looked up from the watch he hand been working on to greet Gabe, "My doors are always open to an enterprising young man who knows the value of hard work. Your reputation is growing, Mr. Bowman. How may I be of service?"
"Um ... well, recently an engraved item has been offered to me for a very high price. Now, research indicates that an authentic item of this nature may be worth what they ask. But, uh, I need to know if it's authentic."
Mr. Bankstrom laughs, "Mr. Bowman, if you want my opinion, you'll have to be a little more forthcoming. What kind of item?"
Gabe hesitated then finally fished out the bullet and placed it on the counter top. The old man picked it up, pulls down a magnifying glass over his spectacles, and started to inspect it. "Hm, very high level of craftsmanship. A lot of work went into this."
Gabriel observed the old man's reaction to the bullet and wondered, "Your work?"
Bankstrom vehemently shook his head, "I wouldn't dare. This appears to be done after manufacture. Very dangerous." Bankstrom stared up at Gabe from beneath his spectacles, "May I ask who the seller is?" Waving the bullet at him. Gabriel laughed and grinned, "Yes, you may, but unfortunately I won't be able to answer."
The old man nodded his head, "Of course, I understand. Perhaps you'd like to leave it. I can make a few inquiries." "No," Gabe quickly protested, snatching the bullet before Bankstrom had the chance to place it in his pocket, "Listen, uh, please don't mention this to anyone, okay?" Bankstrom nodded his head again. Gabe shook his hand, "Okay, thank you for your time. I appreciate it. Take care."
"Goodnight," Bankstrom called out as Gabe exited his shop. As soon as the door closed, Bankstrom walked over to his phone and dialed. "Captain Dante."
~*~
Faith slowed her car down, parking behind a line of cars just a block up from Sara's building. Sara's buell was parked out in front and lights in her apartment were on. Faith got out of her car and walked across the street. She hid herself in the shadows of the dark alley next to Sara's building. Looking up, Faith scanned the rooftops for any signs of the clone. She knew he was here; she had spotted his car immediately after arriving. But where could he be?
Her eyes roamed the area, searching for him. Just when she was about to move positions she spotted him. Nottingham stepped out from the alley just across the street from her. He stood there, staring in her direction. Faith pressed herself closer to the wall, not knowing if he had seen her or not. There were loud distractions everywhere around the neighborhood but Nottingham's attention never wavered from the alleyway in which Faith hid.
Faith molded herself into the darkness. Knowing that if she moved just slightly it would reveal her position to the clone. The last thing that she wanted was this creature's attention. A chill ran down her spine as Nottingham flashed his white teeth into an evil sneer. 'Damn it,' she swore to herself. She could see his dark eyes wondering the alley. He didn't know where she was but was very aware she was around. It was apparently that he was not the only one watching Sara.
Faith's heart nearly sank as Nottingham started to cross the street. There was no way in avoiding this confrontation and so Faith prepared herself. That was until a large van drove across his path, temporarily blocking his way. Faith took the opportunity and moved away from the alley. By the time Nottingham had reached where she was, Faith was already gone.
He vehemently searched the area and when he realized it was empty, he spoke out, "I will find you." Nottingham grinned, his hands curling up into fist. The sound of his leather glove stretching could be heard in the alley. Faith leaned her head back and whispered, "When you do, I'll be ready." She wasn't sure if he had heard her or not, but Nottingham started to laugh.
The cat and mouse game between Nottingham and Faith stopped when the sound of footsteps were heard. Sara left her building, and started walking down the street, then turned the corner. Nottingham gave the alley one last look before following Sara. Faith waited before following both Sara and Nottingham. She wanted to put as much distance as she could between the dangerous clone.
While Faith watched, from a distance, as Sara met up with her partner, she thought about the clone. She had practically smelt the power radiating from the untamed beast. Shaking her head, she had to wonder what her father was thinking. To believe that he could control this newer version of Ian Nottingham. Denial. That's what it was. Her father was deep in denial.
"That he is, Faith."
For the first time in years, Faith jumped back in surprise. Her arms and hands held up, ready to fight. "Easy, little one. I mean you no harm." Lazar held up his hands.
"You scared the crap out of me," Faith yelled at him.
"My sorry my dear." Lazar said apologetically.
Faith lowered her arms and composed herself. "So to what honor do I owe this visit from the great Lazar?" she teased.
Lazar smiled, "I am her to relieve you of your duty…for a while."
Faith shook her head, "I can't do that Lazar. I had promised Ian that I would watch over the wielder. Besides there is some crazed evil twin roaming about. Sara would need protection from him. And no offense Lazar," judging from his frail body, "You're no match for him."
Lazar started to laugh, "Do not worry about me, my dear. I can very well manage." He continued to laugh. Faith narrowed her eyes on him. There was much she needed to learn about Lazar. From what Ian had told her, Lazar was a powerful man. But in what way, she was unsure. So, could it be possible that this…person could keep his own against Nottingham?
"Well?" he said after composing himself.
"Well what?"
"Go see him."
"You mean Kenneth Irons?" she asked.
Lazar nodded his head. "Why should I?" Faith asked.
"Forewarned, forearmed."
~*~
After hanging up with Bankstrom, Dante called in Orlinsky and Burgess into his office. He sat back in his chair and eyed his two officers. "We have a problem gentlemen."
"What's up?" Orlinsky asked.
"It seems that Petzini's little friend, ah, Gabriel Bowman was asking around about an engraved bullet. This bullet, gentlemen." Dante produced a replica of the bullet and placed it on top of his desk. "It appears the kid is working for that Petzini bitch and is searching from some answers. We all know what she is like. Like some, damn dog with a bone. She is going to pursue and push until she brings down the entire White Bulls organization. I am not going to let that happen. I want you two to pay a visit to this Bowman kid first thing tomorrow morning. Then I want you to eliminate all evidence. I don't want any witnesses, nothing. Anyone that she has come in contact with, I want it taken care of. Understood?" Orlinsky and Burgess nodded their head yes.
"What about Joe Siri?"
Dante shook his head, "No, I'm going to take care of him personally. I want you guys to concentrate on that Bowman kid and everything else." Dante picked up the bullet and placed it in his pocket. He grabbed his coat off the rack, and all three men exited the office.
~*~
After arriving back home from his visit with Mr. Bankstrom, Gabe found his apartment empty, with the exception of Ian, who had gone back to bed. Before turning on the computer, Gabe decided to give Faith a call. Before going to bed, Ian had mention that Faith had been worried about him. He'd call; tell her that he was safe and that everything was all right. He picked up the piece of paper she had scribbled the number on and dialed.
On the third ring someone answered, "Hello?" Gabe sat there confused. This wasn't Faith. "Uh, sorry, must have dialed the wrong number." "No, problem," the woman on the other end said and hung up. Gabe looked at the piece of paper and carefully punched in the corresponding numbers.
"Hello?" It was the same woman.
Confused Gabe asked, "Faith?"
"No, I'm sorry but you got the wrong number." She said and hung up again.
Gabe stared at his phone then at the paper. Instead of making a third attempt he walked into the bedroom and risked waking Ian for Faith's cell number. Ian groggily gave him the number, which happened to be the exact same number Faith had written down. Gabe ran his hand through his hair and exhaled. "Let's try this again," he said and started dialing.
This time the woman that had been picking up didn't sound too happy, "Look would you stop calling. You got the wrong number."
"Wait, wait!" He yelled into the phone, before she got a chance to hang up again.
"What?"
"Listem I'm calling for a woman named Faith." Gabe asked.
"Sorry but like I said earlier there is no one by that…" The woman trailed off then paused, "Wait a minute. Does this Faith person look like…." She started describing and Gabe said, "Yeah that's her."
"Oh my God. I think we somehow managed to switch phones."
"How did that happen?"
"My name is Natasha Marion. I was one of the attendants working on the flight she was on. While at the airport terminal we accidentally bumped into each other. We dropped our phones and a friend of mines picked them up. He must have unknowingly given us the wrong phones."
'Just great,' Gabe thought. "Uh, would it be possible for you to stop by, drop off the phone?"
"Well I can't make it tonight but I'll be free tomorrow morning. Can I stop by and pick up my phone then?" Natasha asked.
Gabe ran his hand through his hair, "Yeah, sure. My place is at 111 Foster Street, apartment 11. I'll be here, the name is Gabriel."
"Alright, Gabriel. I'll be over first thing tomorrow morning."
~*~
Jake leaned back in his chair and started to say, "Diogenes was a Greek philosopher who walked around Athens with a lantern in broad daylight. Said he was looking for an honest man."
"You looked it up." Sara said incredulously.
He nodded his head, "I did, but it didn't say whether he ever found one."
"Uh, some accounts say only when he looked in a mirror." She added not really interested in the subject.
Jake on the other hand continued, "Meaning, if you want to find an honest man, be one."
Sara shrugged a little, "That's the way my dad read it." She leaned forward, lowering her voice, "Jake, I ... I gotta tell you something."
"Hey, if this is about mixing partnership with our personal lives," he started to protest, "It's… all right."
Sara shook her head, the thought not even crossed her mind, "No, no, no. Nothing like that. We have a problem in our department, a big problem. There's a, uh, force within the force. A bunch of bad cops. They call themselves the White Bulls. They've been around a long time. And, uh ... they actually killed my dad."
"What?"
"Yeah, he was on to them. They mask as these righteous crusaders, but what they're really about is corruption, bribes, protection, the works. This McQueen murder feels like their handiwork. And one of their leaders ..."
Jake held up his hand, stopping her, "Let me guess, Captain Dante."
Sara nodded her head, eyeing him a bit suspiciously. His 'guess' was dead on. Sara had to wonder about his earlier meeting with Dante.
Jake avoided her eyes and mumbled; "I knew there was something wrong there. So, what do we do? Go I.A? Outside agency? FBI?"
Sara shook her head, "I'm not sure."
"What kind of evidence do you have?"
"Word of a witness, articles, reports. I even have a videotape my dad left me with specific time-date incidences." She started listing off.
"Yeah, but your dad's been dead for years, Sara. Those crimes must be pretty old."
"There's no statute on murder, Jake."
Jake stared curiously then asked, "Who's your witness?"
Sara held up her hand, he knew better then to ask. She may have told Jake about the White Bulls but she still had her doubts about how much she could trust him. As if reading her mind, Jake said, "Okay, you'll tell me when you're ready. Meanwhile, can I see the video?" Sara was rather reluctant, but she could see no harm in showing him the tape. In the end, she agreed. "You know our best bet might be the media. Get it all public. Make it harder for them to move against us." He suggested.
"I thought of that too."
"So who do we go to for help?" Jake wondered.
~*~
Dozens of lit candles set atop tall, ornate candelabras and the hissing fire burning in the large hearth were the only source of light in the desolate room. The double doors suddenly opened, and the flames on the candles flickered, struggling to stay lit as a small draft of wind drifted through the room. A repetitious tapping sound echoed throughout the room every time the bottom of the cane encountered the solid floor. The tapping stopped when Irons made his way to the leather chair. He stands the cane against the arm of the chair, then moved around to sit down. After letting out a wearisome sigh, Irons composed himself and concentrated on the chessboard in front of him.
He leaned back into the chair; legs crossed, and fingers interlaced together. Staring down at the board pondering over his next move. Irons sat there for what seemed like hours until finally he made a move. Just another hapless pawn captured by his knight. He set the captured piece aside. Irons returned to his deliberation, unaware of the second presence in the room.
The shadow separated itself from the wall, sailing across the room on silent footsteps. Before Irons realized what was happening, agile fingers reached across the chessboard. Grabbing the opposing bishop, and capturing Irons knight. "Check." Irons followed with his eyes as the person sat down across from him. "Hello my dear," he smoothly greeted, hoping his voice belied the apprehension he felt.
Faith nodded her reply. She sat back into the plush leather chair, legs crossed, her fingers still toying with the ivory chess piece, and familiar azure eyes transfixed on the man across from her. "If I had known you were coming I would have made the necessary arrangements to… greet you properly, my dear."
She waved her hand, "I wouldn't want you to go through so much trouble just for me."
"It would have been no trouble at all. It is not everyday I get to see my only daughter…"
"Alive?" She coolly added, yet her eyes were blazing with anger.
"As delighted as I am seeing you again, my dear. What do I owe for this fortuitous visit?"
Faith slammed the chess piece down so hard onto the table; it rattled the rest of the pieces, some nearly tipping over. "My presence here goes far beyond a 'frotuitous visit'. You're a smart man, you've already figured out why I'm here." She fingered the piece, a clear sign that one of the reasons why she was here was because of Ian. But there was more to her return.
Irons pressed his forefinger against his pursed lips. The corner of his mouth lifted into a grin. "So you have risen from the grave to seek revenge on your father. Rather cliché don't you think my dear?"
"Perhaps, yet it all depends on how you look at it. For one thing, to rise from the grave one would need to be dead. As you can see," she spread her arms out, "I am very much alive. Not some zombie or ghost. And secondly, how does one seek vengeance on a person I no longer consider my father?" Faith didn't bother to hide the animosity in her voice.
"My dear sweet, Faith. You wound me." Placing a hand over his heart.
"If only," she added with a smile.
Irons smirked at her remark, "touché." She grinned, tipping her head slightly forward. "I believe it is your move," Faith pointed at the chessboard. Irons ponder over his pieces, and the list of possible moves running through him mind. "What's wrong? Can't seem to calculate your way out," she paused then spat out, "Father?"
"If you stopped being the impudent child that you are, you will learn that there are many ways to win." Irons admonished, as he captured her bishop with his knight.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, father." She shook her head; teasing him, "Do not revert to name calling. Such mockery is for children. It is definitely not suitable for someone so advance in age. And believe me I've learned a great deal over the years." Faith stared at the board no more then two seconds and was already making her next move. Irons was seething, chiding himself for not realizing he had unknowingly placed his chess piece in danger. He watched her capture his last knight. "You're turn," she yelled.
"I am not deaf, Faith. I am perfectly capable of hearing just fine." Irons pursed his lips and concentrated on the board. He was getting rather annoyed from her continuous mockery. She always had a way of getting under his skin. And she loved every minute of it.
"My apologizes. You see from what I have heard, the hearing tends to be the first thing that goes when one gets older. And I must say how the years seem to be taking its toll on you." He narrowed his frigid eyes on her, his hand tightening around the handle of the cane. Most people would have frozen under his stare, but not Faith. She smiled innocently, unperturbed by the look Irons was giving her. Irons swore under his breath. "So tell me, just how do you plan on winning against time old man?"
Irons grinned, "Check," he said after his move.
"Let me guess," She started, picking up the queen and holding it in her hand.
"As I recall, there is a great test called the Periculum. If the wielder manages to pass this test, the Witchblade not only bonds with the wielder it also bestows upon the chosen woman with special…gifts. Genetically altering her body."
"Is there a point to your rambling?" he asked.
Faith smiled, shaking her head. "For nearly three decades you have feasted on Elizabeth Bronte's body like some scavenger. Using her blood to maintain your youth. Now, with Sara as the new wielder, your well has become obsolete, dried up in fact. So you're seeking a new well, a new fountain of youth that spews red. Am I right, father?"
Irons shook his head, "If you already knew of my plans. Why did you come here?"
She shrugged, "Confirmation I suppose. Yet, that isn't the only reason why I came here tonight. It's the means of how you would obtain these gifts. This thing, this creation you've let loose out on society."
"Ah, you mean Ian?"
"That freak is not Ian!" Faith stood up from her seat, pacing back and forth. "You know, father, I've always admired your intelligence. Only a truly smart man could survive the way you have. But," shaking her head, "I can see that your lust for control has clouded your judgment."
"What are you implying my dear?"
"I guess sight is the next thing to go when you get older. Can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?" Faith flipped him her middle finger. Irons stared daggers at her. "You're delusional to think that you have any control over this clone of yours, to think that you will win."
"In the end, I always do my dear. Always." He retorted.
"Perhaps, but not this time around. By the way," she walked over to the table and placed the chess piece down into the appropriate space, "Checkmate." She declared before tipping the king over.
"We shall see my dear daughter." Irons said aloud, watching her retreating back. He looked down at the board, upset that he had lost the game. He ran the cane across the table, knocking the chess pieces everywhere, all except one, the ivory queen. Absently, Irons started rubbing the back of his right hand. Faith's mockery of his appearance ran through his mind along with his earlier conversation with Dr. Immo.
"Her cells may be degenerating, unraveling."
"That's why we're using a larger piece this time." He had said.
"You may be developing a tolerance, an immunity to her."
Irons shook his head. His own fountain of youth had dried up, lost its potency, and now he needed fresh blood. He needed Sara Pezzini's blood. Irons stared into the flames. Finally, coming to a decision, he picked up the phone and dialed.
"Yes, master?"
~*~
"Tell your sister I said hello. I love you too, Marie. Bye." Joe said before hanging up. He wiped the tear from his eye, and walked over to his chair. Just as he unscrewed the cap off the bottle, he heard a noise in the background. With a heavy sigh, Joe started pouring himself a glass of his favorite whiskey. He sat patiently, casually sipping his drink.
"What took you so long?" Joe looked up at Dante. His old revolver held in Dante's hand.
"You finally grew some stones, huh, Joe?" Dante teased.
"Yeah. Feels pretty damn good, too." Joe took another swig of his drink.
"What? Telling a girl her dad's a hero instead of telling her the truth?" There was no hiding the distaste in Dante's voice.
"That is the truth. Jim was a hero." He poured the rest of the whiskey into his glass.
"And you're a schmuck. All you did was sign Sara's death warrant." Dante warned, his mouth smacking away on his gum. "Not to mention my own," Joe added, raising his glass. Dante gave him a nod, considerately letting the man finish his last drink. After three large gulps, the glass was empty. Joe set the glass down and waited for the inevitable but not before saying, "You're right, Bruno. I did sign two death warrants tonight, but they weren't mine and Sara's. They were mine and yours."
Dante snorted, shaking his head. "Whatever, Joe. By the way, I found this in your room. You don't mind if I use it, do you?" Dante placed the bullet in the chamber and closed it. Joe spread his arms out, a 'be my guest' expression on his face.
~*~
Sara and Jake exited the café and started for her apartment just a few blocks away. Not far behind Nottingham followed. An ominous grin spreading across his face as he listens to his master over the phone. His orders were specific, retrieve the wielder and return to the mansion. "I want her alive, but use what ever means necessary." Irons ordered before hanging up. Nottingham's grin grew wider. He shoved the phone into his coat pocket, quickening his pace to keep up with Sara and Jake. Both unaware of his presence.
"You ever notice how people who say, "Everyone in the world is dishonest" are usually dishonest themselves?" Sara openly stated, while walking down the alley near her apartment building.
"And folks who think people are basically honest tend to be honest?" Jake added.
Sara grinned, "Yeah, exactly." The easy camaraderie quickly faded when Sara spotted her buell or rather what was left of her precious bike. She crouched besides the heap of metal, speechless and shock that someone had purposely destroyed her buell. Jake shook his head. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said, "This was no accident, Sara."
Sara knew it wasn't a random act, she was even certain the White Bulls were responsible. Jake on the other hand knew that it was. Just hours ago Dante had asked him what he thought Sara loved the most. He responded by saying that she loved her bike. This was Dante's plans. To take away everything she loves, hoping to push her over the edge, forcing her to make a mistake, and Dante was going to be there when she did. From the looks of things it was working. Sara's shoulders were trembling, trying hard not to cry. Jake pulled her to him and hugged her tightly.
Nottingham smirked, recalling a black SUV repeatedly running over Sara's bike. Then the burly driver stepped out of the vehicle, walked over to the trashed bike, and pissed on it. A satisfied smile plastered on the man's face.
Jake ushered Sara into the building, guiding her to her apartment. Jake took the keys from Sara's shaking hand and unlocked the door. Nottingham hurried up the fire escape. By the time he reached her apartment window, Sara and Jake were already in the living room. Jake watched Sara pace back and forth. "You okay?" Sara shook her head, not bothering to say anything.
Jake ran a hand through his hair, "Okay, here's what we're going to do. Pack what you need for a couple of days because you're staying on my couch until further notice."
Sara's head shot up, "What?"
"We'll stick together."
"Jake, if they want to get me…"
"They'll have to get the both of us."
Sara thought for a moment then said, "How can I say no to that?" she smiled.
Nottingham pursed his lips into a tight line, his brows furrowed in frustration as he listened. The situation had just gotten complicated. If he was going to fulfil his duty he needed to act now, regardless of the little obstacle that stood in his way. His only order was to return with the wielder. The other detective was obsolete. Nottingham unlocked the window and quietly crawled in.
Sara pulled out her backpack and started stuffing it with clothes and anything else she would need for the next few days. Sara zipped up the bag and tossed it on the bed. "You got everything you need?" Jake asked. "Yeah, I think so." She looked around her bedroom, making sure she didn't forget anything. "Give me a minute, I have to use the bathroom." Jake nodded, grabbing her bag, and waited in the living room.
Nottingham silent maneuvered around the apartment. His eyes locked on Jake sitting on the couch. Nottingham neared closer coming up from behind. He pulled out his digger from his coat, holding the hilt tightly in his hand. Nottingham grinned, thinking that soon the gleaming blade would be tainted with the detective's blood. And just when he was about to reach out to slit Jake's throat, a crash was heard.
Jake quickly got up from the couch and rushed across the room over to the bathroom door. He knocked once, "Hey you okay in there?"
"Yeah, I accidentally knocked over my glass cup. Shit," Sara swore aloud.
"What's the matter?" Concerned Jake reached for the knob.
"Nothing, tell you what Jake. Why don't you take my stuff to your car. I'll be down in a minute." Sara suggested.
"I don't think that's a good idea. We should stick together."
"Rookie, what's going to happen, huh?" She snorted, "Go on I'll be down in a few."
"All right, but if you're not down in five minutes, I'm coming back up."
"Yeah, yeah," Sara answered.
Reluctantly Jake moved away from the door. He grabbed her bag and headed down the stairs. After hearing the door close, Nottingham stepped out from the corner. Thinking how lucky Jake was. Now, with Jake gone, getting to Sara would be much easier.
Sara swore again, looking down at her injured hand. While picking up the pieces of broken glass, she had managed to cut her hand. Thankfully, it wasn't a very deep cut but her wound was still bleeding profusely. She grabbed a small washcloth and wrapped it around her hand, making a temporary bandage. "Where the hell is the first aid kit?" she wondered while rummaging through her medicine cabinet.
That was when she rememberd she had moved it over to the kitchen. Sara carefully walked around the mess, promising to clean it up after she tended to her wound. She opened the door and was alarmed to find all the lights in the apartment were turned off. "Jake?" she called out but there was no answer. She looked down at the blade which remined quiet.
Cautiously, Sara walked around the apartment, searching for a lamp to turn on. Just as she was about to reach for the switch, a steely hand grabbed her wrist. Nottingham whirled her around, so that her back was pressed against him, her left arm trapped between their bodies. "Good evening, Sa-ra," Nottingham whispered into her ear. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on ends. A frigid chill ran down her spine, and her heart started racing. A low ominous laugh escaped Nottingham's lips. Enjoying the feel of her body against his and the fear emitting from her.
Sara started to struggle, unmindful of the pain that was shooting up the arm he held behind her back. He tightens his hold and Sara hissed in pain. She started kicking his shins, eliciting a groan from his lips, but he didn't relinquish his hold. "Don't do that again." He ordered his voice tight and irritated.
"Or what?" She angrily retorted, belying the fear she was feeling. Already knowing what he'd do to her if she didn't stop.
"If you don't," Sara froze when she felt a solid object gliding up, over her body. "You'll push me to use some unnecessary force." He said, the edge of the knife veering around her breast. His hand purposely brushing against the mound. "What the hell do you want?" Sara hissed through gritted teeth. She held her breath when she felt the cool metal brush against her neck.
"My master wants a little taste."
"What…" Sara's voice trailed off, grimacing when she felt his tongue run up the side of her face. And purposely nicking the side of her neck with the tip of the blade, a small trickle of blood flowed down her neck. "Flesh and blood, Sara."
Sara panicked, her breathing becoming harder, heart racing even faster. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the blade. Willing it to help her. Nothing. Nottingham chuckled, "Haven't you learned, your toy won't work against me."
"But mines will," a female voice spoke out.
Sara and Nottingham both looked up to see where the voice was coming from. Their eyes wandered over to the silhouette near the window. All they could see was the gleam of a blade winking back at them. Nottingham pulled Sara closer, the blade pressed so dangerously close to her neck, that Sara was sure if she swallowed she'd accidentally cut herself.
"Who are you?" Nottingham demanded. Yet, knew that this was the other person who had been watching over Sara.
In hopes that she can help Sara, Faith cautiously moved around the apartment, calculating where she should position herself, making sure to keep to the shadow. From what she could assess using force was out of the question. There was no doubt Sara was going to get hurt, or worst killed. And there was still the uncertainty of how skillful this clone really was. Faith had to think of another way to get to the clone. At least find a way to distract him long enough for Sara to escape. Everything after that would be a free for all.
But what could she do? She couldn't exactly negotiate with the man. He has no moral conscious, no control…and that's when it hit her. When one loses control, they tend to make mistakes. Faith stared at the clone. The man radiated with over confidence, and cockiness. Perhaps a few hints on the man's ego might do the trick. Might.
"It's me, Faith. I'm insulted you don't remember, Ian." Faith started, feigning disappointment.
"I don't know you," Nottingham replied.
"Yes, you do Ian. No, wait a minute, hmm," she paused, her finger tapping against her chin, pretending to contemplate. "Ah," she finally said, "I can see why you wouldn't remember."
"Please do explain," he asked. Even Sara was curious where this was going.
"How can someone recall a memory when one does not possess any to begin with?"
"Meaning?"
"You're NOT Ian."
"I am Ian Nottingham!" The clone declared through gritted teeth.
Faith grinned, shaking her head, "No you're not." Her voice calm and leveled. "You may walk around, looking like him, sounding like him, even using his name, but never will you be him. Let's face it, you will always be the second rate freak that you are. Irons may call you the 'successor' but in less terms it just means you're the alternative, the substitute."
Nottingham sneered. Sara could feel Nottingham's body tense up behind her. She could hear the leather stretch as he tighten his hands. A thin red line formed as the edge of the blade dug into the side of Sara's neck.
"Come on, doppleganger, let's see what you got, huh?" Faith coaxing him on with her middle finger. "Because honestly, you ain't shit just some pretender." Faith started to laugh.
"Nothing would please me more then to release you from your earthly bonds." He said dreamily. Faith swore inwardly, the taunts didn't look like it was helping. Only getting the man more pissed off. Damn it now what?
At that moment, the ring around Sara's neck glowed. Then suddenly the sound of metal clicking together echoed in the apartment. The Witchblade had come alive. Without a second thought, Sara reached up, wrenching the blade from Nottingham's hands. For a brief moment, Nottingham was caught off guard. His hold on Sara loosened. Everything was happening so fast, and luckily, Faith was quick enough to react before Nottingham could.
She rushed towards them, reaching out to grab Sara's arm. While pulling her away from Nottingham, Faith delivered a roundhouse kick to his face, the blow sent him staggering backwards. Faith pushed Sara behind her, placing herself between the two.
Nottingham looked up at Faith, the right side of his face covered in blood. Nottingham felt a painful sensation, reaching up he traced the long slash with his gloved fingertips. Pulling back, he stared down at his blood-coated glove. His angry and confused eyes darted towards the curved blade sticking out from the tip of Faith's boot.
"Fucking bitch, you'll pay for that." He venomously threatens.
Faith only grinned; readying herself for a fight she knew was coming. Nottingham took a step forward before the front door burst opened, "Sara!" Jake yelled out, hurriedly running up the stairs. Nottingham and Faith stared at each other. "Until next time, Faith." Nottingham was about to run out when he spotted the blood soaked towel on the floor. He picked it up and ran, crashing through the window. Faith and Sara rushed over to look out the window. Gone.
Faith turned to Sara, pointing the blade she still held in her hand at her, "What the hell was on that cloth?"
Undisturbed by the sharp object pointed at her, Sara showed Faith her injured hand and said, "My blood."
"Shit!"
"What's wrong?" Sara asked but before Faith could answer, Jake showed up, gun drawn and aimed at Faith.
"Sara look out!" Jake yelled and without hesitation fired at Faith. Sara ducked for cover. She watched in horror as Faith fell through the open window. After scrambling to her feet, Sara rushed out the window and quickly descended the fire escape. Jake following behind.
Sara ran towards the area where Faith would have landed, surprised to find it empty, no body, nothing. "Where did she go?" Jake wondered, looking up and down the alley.
"Uh," Sara shook her head, running a ran through her hair, "I don't know."
"You okay?" Jake asked, putting away his gun.
"I'm fine," she said then rounded on him, "Just what the hell were you thinking, rookie?"
Dumbfounded Jake started, "That's the welcome I get after saving your life? Sara, the woman had a knife on you what was I supposed to do?"
Sara thought for a moment, trying to picture what Jake saw when he busted into her apartment. She really couldn't blame him but still. "She wasn't going to hurt me, Jake."
"Yeah, and how do you know that?"
"She saved my life, Jake."
"What?"
Sara gave Jake a rough explanation about what happened omitting some parts. She could only hope that it was enough to satiate his curiosity. Sirens could be heard in the distance. Someone in the building must have heard the gun shots and called the police. "Just fucking great," Sara swore. She had a feeling Dante was going to have a field day with this.
"Listen Jake story is someone broke into my apartment. We didn't get a good look at the person because it was too dark and the perp managed to get away. Got that?"
"Wha…" Jake started shaking his head, "That's bullshit, this was no break in, Sara. Nottingham came into your apartment intent on killing you. And you want me to just lie about that? What are you hiding, huh?" Staring at her as if she'd lost her mind.
Frustrated Sara snapped, "Just do it, rookie!"
Jake pursed his lips together, "Fine!" Irritably he walked off, heading towards the front of the building, waiting for the police to arrive. Sara sighed as she watches Jake walk away. Before following, Sara moved over to inspect the area were Faith would have been. There was no evidence that anything landed here besides the glass shards from her window. She shrugged her shoulders and walked away. Just as she was about to turn the corner, the blade hissed on her wrist. A long red smear marked the wall. 'Faith,' she thought.
~*~
Nottingham stood in front of Irons, the saturated washcloth held delicately in his gloved hands, and his unattended wound seeping blood down his face. Irons got up from his chair and moved closer to Nottingham. He looked down between the cloth and the cut on his servant's face. "Explain yourself," Irons demanded. Once again, Nottingham became angry as he recalled the confrontation earlier.
"So this," Irons motioned to the soiled fabric, "Is Sara Pezzini's blood." Nottingham nodded his head yes. "And this," tapping the side of Nottingham's face none so gently with the handle of his cane, "Is a gift from Faith?"
Nottingham growled, "Yes."
"Pathetic," Irons whispered before stepping away. Nottingham sneered, staring daggers at Irons' back. "Immo," he bellowed and immediately the doctor appeared in the room. Irons sat back down in his chair. He stared up at Nottingham, "You failed to bring me Sara Pezzini, but thankfully all is not lost." Irons turned his head towards the doctor, "If you'd be so kind, Dr. Immo to extract the blood from that wash cloth and prepare my little hors d'ouervre. Then we shall see if our little experiment works, hm." Immo nodded his head. He motioned Nottingham to place the cloth on top of the silver tray.
Before getting to work, Immo inquired about Nottingham and the wound on his face. Irons contemplated for a moment. Purposely taking his time, letting his servant wait. After a few minutes, Irons waved his hand, "You'll tend to him when you are done taking care of my needs."
"Very well, Kenneth." Immo spared a worried glance at the clone before starting on his work. 'Careful, Kenneth,' Immo thought, after seeing the disdain suspended in the clone's dark eyes.
~*~