Duplicity
By Divamercury
She's alive! Yes, indeed, it is I. I apologize for my insanely long absence, but just for you all, I have been a writing fool lately so I have not one but TWO chapters to post! Ain't it amazing? Anyway, the usual thank-yous: Pixie-Dust for being an awesome friend and great idea source, Spin for being so faithful and sweet, and every single blasted one of you that's been reviewing. Please don't stop, or else I might have to. So, on with the show. Read, review, and for your sake, enjoy! ;)
~DM
Chapter 18
Connor pulled into the hospital parking lot and we got out of the car. The wind had begun to blow relentlessly and we both shivered.
"Why'd you park so far away from the building, rookie?" I asked, hugging myself to try and keep warm.
"I didn't have a choice! Do you see any other spaces? This parking lot is smaller than the one at the precinct!"
"I don't think that's even possible. Come on, let's go before we turn into Popsicles." We entered the building through the automatic doors, causing everyone in close proximity to the door to shiver and glare at us when the wind followed us in.
"We're here to see Andreanna McPherson," I told the receptionist.
"Visiting hours start in a couple of minutes. Why don't you have a seat in the waiting room and we'll let you know, Ms"
"Detective Pezzini."
"Right. Detective."
Connor and I sat in a far corner of the waiting area. "Well, considering we've got some time, what's this story you've been wanting to tell me about?"
I sighed. Now was as good a time as any to tell him my tale, even though I had been planning to tell him when we got back to the station.
"Okay. You know about all the odd things that have been going on lately–the weird cases, the cryptic comments, my frequent space-outs, the rumors going around the precinct that I'm out of my mind, and even my boyfriend?"
"Ian doesn't seem weird, but yeah, I know what you mean."
"Oh, you have much to learn about Ian, grasshopper. Anyway, all that stuff is tied tothis," I said. I pulled my sleeve away from the swirling red stone of the Witchblade and let him see it for the first time, holding my hand out to him.
"Your bracelet is controlling your life?" Connor cocked an eyebrow as he took my hand, reminding me of myself.
I sighed impatiently. "Yes. My bracelet is controlling my life. And your life. And Mac, Raven, Ian, and Gabe's lives. I know you're important now in this scheme of things, although I'm not sure how yet."
"Damn, you're actually serious. You believe what you're saying," he said, scrutinizing the stone of the Witchblade.
"Yes, I am serious, damn it!" I shouted. All the eyes in the waiting room turned to us. Connor and I ignored them and I lowered my voice just to keep the discussion private. I continued, "And this isn't your everyday bracelet. I can't show you what it does, not here–maybe in Mac's room–anyway, it becomes a weapon. That's why they call me the Wielder. I was destined to wear it, being part of a bloodline or something running down through the ages. I realize it sounds absolutely crazy, but I swear it's the truth."
"If it was coming from anyone but you, Pez, I'm not sure I'd believe it."
"Hey. Don't worry. I'm surprised that you're taking it so well. It took me a long time to believe it myself and I'm the one wearing the damn thing," I remarked.
I continued updating Connor on the Witchblade situation until a nurse came up to us.
"Detectives? You can come and see Ms. McPherson now," she said. We stood up and followed the nurse to Mac's room.
"I'll come and get you when you need to leave," she said, and left us at the door. We paused a moment, then I reached forward and twisted the doorknob. Connor and I entered the room and sat on either side of Mac.
"So what's this about a weapon?" Connor wanted to know.
"You're not going to let this go, are you?" I asked.
"Not a chance. Would you let it go if you were in my shoes and your senior partner was telling you some insane story?"
"Okay, point taken. Don't say I didn't warn you." I concentrated on the Witchblade and it sprang to life, covering my right forearm in steel. The eye of the Blade opened and stared at Connor much as it had done to me when we first met at the Midtown Museum. Connor jumped back in his chair, rubbed his eyes, blinked, and then pinched himself.
"Satisfied that you're awake?" I asked with a smirk.
He nodded mutely.
"Good. It does more, you know. Do you want to see the rest?" He hadn't been exposed to the sword yet.
"Why not?" he said, throwing his hands in the air.
I concentrated again and let the sword extend.
"Holy shit!" he yelled. "So that's the thing that's been–"
"–causing weird wounds? You heard about that?"
"Everyone knows that story at our precinct. They couldn't figure it out, but it makes perfect sense. Retractable sword equals no murder weapon found. You've been killing people?"
"Only in the line of duty, rookie. Although being a homicide cop would be the perfect cover for being a killer. Wanna arrest me now?" I asked sarcastically.
He gave me a Look.
"Okay, okay," I said, backing down and making the Witchblade retract into its benign bracelet guise, which, being in as mischievous a mood as I was, glowed so obviously that Connor would be sure to see it. When he noticed, his jaw dropped.
"Connor, relax. Change your expression or your face'll get stuck like that. And trust me, you don't want to look into mirrors for the rest of your life and see that staring back at you."
He relaxed, thankfully.
I noticed that the hospital staff had left Mac's necklace in place and I gingerly reached for the pendant whose amulet matched that of the Witchblade, and I showed it to Connor who gapedagain.
"Dude! So who is or was she? I mean, you said that all the Wielders are technically the same person–and I'm not even going to pretend to understand THAT logic–so where does she fit into all of this?"
"Maybe Gabe'll lend you his copy of Quantum Physics for Dummies," I said with a smirk. "Mac says that she is the high priestess of the Witchblade. I think the position comes from the fact that the Witchblade is steeped in ancient lore and mystical tales, so who better to look after it than a priestess? I don't exactly know what she does, though. You'd have to ask her that yourself."
In the course of my explanation, an idea struck me. Remembering that time that Mac brought me out of a nightmare by connecting her necklace with the Witchblade, I fingered Mac's pendant, touching the identical stones to each other and watching as they bonded; I couldn't pull away. The room was filled with a flash of crimson light for a split second and then the connection was broken so forcibly that it threw me back in my chair.
Connor blinked and stared at me. "What the hell–?" He stopped when I didn't respond, and I had a good reason for that. It was my turn to gape.
Mac had just blinked for the first time since she'd been put into this strange state.
"Mac? Mac! Can you hear me?" I asked, squeezing her hand. It took a few moments but she squeezed back, blinked a few more times, and muttered, "Did anyone get the license plate number of the truck that hit me?"
Connor and I couldn't stop grinning.
"Guess that's a no." She sat up very slowly. "How is everyone? Raven? Ian?" She swallowed. "Gabe?"
"Everyone's fineexcept maybe Raven. We're afraid she's gone off the deep end. And Ian was acting a little weird this morning, but Gabe's doing fine. Not that you care."
Mac sighed and leaned back against her pillows. "Please, Sara," she said. "I just woke upI don't think I need this now."
"Well, you're going to get it anyway. I can't believe that the two of you–"
"–Were tearing each other's heads off behind closed doors," she said tiredly. "We just weren't compatible. He always thought I was trying to change him, which he hated, and I hated the way he lived like a slob, among other things. Mutual resentment. It finally boiled over with an argument after you came to visit–you didn't have anything to do with it or anything–and we decided that it would be better to just call it all off. I had already started packing up the few things I had over there, so it wasn't a huge deal. We're going to be fine, Sara. We still care about you and we'll always be here for you. And I don't think that there will be any lasting ill will between Gabe and me. At least, I hope not."
I sighed.
"Yeah, I know you don't like it, but–"
Mac was interrupted by the nurse's sudden arrival.
"Oh, my God! Ms. McPherson, you'reyou're awake! I need to get the doctor! And you detectives need to leave. Your time is up." She shooed us out the door, letting only a feeble wave be Mac's farewell.
"This is truly amazing. I wouldn't have expected her to make such a rapid recovery," the doctor said, scanning through Mac's chart.
"So you don't think that there's going to be any lasting damage?" I asked.
"All the signs point to no. I want to keep her here for just a little while longer, a couple of hours maybe, but I don't think that there will be any after-effects."
"Whew." I sighed, relieved that Mac was going to be okay.
"Good news," Connor said. "Thanks, doc."
"Not a problem. No doubt that she'll call you after she gets released."
I gave the doctor my card. "Give this to her. My work number is on it. I don't think she knows it by heart."
"I'll do that."
"Thanks, doctor." Connor and I left the hospital, heading back to the precinct because our lunch hour was up.
"More paperwork to look forward to, I gather?" I asked as Connor pulled out of the parking lot.
"Yep. Fun stuff, that."
"Right. Sure." I stared out the window as we drove towards the station, and I became aware of the familiar sensation that suggested that I was being watched. It felt like a pair of eyes was boring into my shoulder, which wasn't anything new, but the eyes weren't friendly and that made it feel different. I whirled and looked behind us but I didn't see anything, not that I had expected to. All I knew was that it definitely wasn't Ian watching me.
* * *
"Status report?"
"The Wielder and her partner made a stop by the hospital."
"Ah, to visit her little friend. The priestessAndreanna, I believe. She has some kind of unseemly masculine nickname but it escapes me at the moment."
"Mac," he supplied.
"Oh, yes. Mac." I grimaced. "Anything else to report, Damien?"
"No, mistress. Would it be wise for me to move to phase 2?"
"Why, do you feel that the situation has gotten that far?"
"We know more information than we did before and the Wielder is going back to the precinct, a place where she can very easily be isolated and would be unable to counter."
"Very well. Do you believe you can behave accordingly in a police station? And what information have you gathered?"
"I am certain, mistress. We now know the names of all her friends, and their problems. Gabriel Bowman, the young entrepreneur, is becoming depressed because of his break-up with Andreanna McPherson, who is currently in a coma and of little use to the Wielder now. Also, this mysterious Raven person is clearly quite mad, and I know why now: the loss of someone very dear to her. In short, all of her friends are completely useless at this point. When we're finished with her, she'll be alone, close to helpless, and vulnerable." I could hear the wicked smile in his voice.
"Excellent. You've been doing highly successful research, Damien. What of this Raven?"
"She seems to be connected with your father, as was Jackson Miller, her loved one I mentioned."
"Oh, right. The former head of the Speakers. What of him?"
"Your incompetent henchman killed him a few days ago, stupidly mistaking him for my predecessor. His death threw Raven into her madness."
"I know I've heard that name somewhere beforebut there aren't any files on her anywhere in what my father left mewell, if this is enough ammunition for you to use against the Wielder–"
"–Oh, this isn't all I'm going to use. Remember whose face I bear. Anything derogatory I say or do will be a million times worse behind this certain façade."
I laughed. "You're doing well, Damien. Better than I expected, in fact. Be sure to shake her up enough."
"As you wish, mistress. I will begin setting our plans in motion now."
"Very good. I don't want to hear of any failure on your part, Damien."
"You have little to worry about. I severely doubt that anything will hinder this plan."
"Perfect," I purred.
* * *
"Hey rookie?" I asked over the piles of paperwork on my desk, moving a few in order to see the clock. 4:10.
"Hmm?" He made a distracted sound.
"Have you noticed anything weird about Laredo lately?"
He stopped what he was doing and gave me his full attention.
"Now that you mention it, I have. It seems that he's been acting really nervous lately."
"Yes. Always looking over his shoulder, like he's afraid someone's out to get him or something."
"I noticed that too. Maybe he's worried that the serial killer is too much for us, that he's going to get killed."
"Or maybe there's something he's hiding"
"Whoa. Conspiracy theory, Pez?"
"Something like that," I said, lost in thought.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door of our office. Connor, heaving a sigh, dropped his pen and went to get it, knowing full well that I wasn't moving.
"Hey! Ian, what are you doing here?"
I looked up, surprised to see him darkening my doorway.
"I was in the area," he replied.
"Nice to see you, babe, but why are you here?"
"I need to talk to you." He looked at Connor disdainfully. "Preferably without your little sidekick."
"Ian!" I said.
"That's cool. I'lljust go get some coffee, then," he said, noticeably hurt, running a hand through his sandy brown hair. He left and closed the door behind him. Ian stepped in front of it and leaned against it.
"Jeez, Ian, little harsh there. I thought you two were friends."
"Another display of your ignorance, Sara."
I arched an eyebrow and stood up. "Excuse me? What is with you today, Ian? You've been acting really weird and to be completely honest, you're pissing me off."
"Let's just say that my eyes have been opened and I'm finally seeing things as they really are."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"That I don't think being around you is worth it anymore."
Whoa.
I just stared at him dumbfounded.
"Surely you don't blame me. You're practically a magnet for suffering, death, and destruction. Who'll be next?" He stepped away from the door and started circling me. "First there was Irons, then Jackson, and now Mac and Raven areindisposed. Gabriel isn't doing too well, either. Tell me you don't see that."
"Damn it, Ian, of course I see it. Then Connor and Vicki too, I expect? You're saying that everyone's just going to up and die on me, huh, is that it?" I said, trying to keep my eyes on him as he circled and not doing a great job.
"That would be what I'm implying, along with the fact that I don't want to be next." He closed his eyes, shaking his head and smirking. "Sometimes I just can't believe you, Sara. It's amazing how naïve you can be. You think your life is going to be normal." He suddenly came at me, pushing me against a wall and pinning me there with his hands. I was surprised to find that I didn't instinctively fight him off.
"Well, I've got news for you, Sara. It never will be. Do you honestly think that your friends would be in this mess if they hadn't met you? You and the Witchblade?" he wanted to know. "They'd all be off living happy lives if you'd never stumbled into their existences. Mac and Gabriel could have hit it off. And more importantly, Jackson would still be alive for Raven. She wouldn't be like she is, reduced to something less than sane."
I couldn't say anything. Everything he was saying was 100% true.
He released me and looked almost sadalmost. There was a spark of something in his eyes that I didn't even want to try and identify.
"Guess that's food for thought, huh, Sara?" He opened the door to the office and stepped out, smirking evilly. "Oh, and don't bother looking for me at home. I won't be there." Then he left, and all I could do was stand there. I couldn't believe the intensity of the verbal assault he had just unleashed. I had never before considered the fact that he had a downright mean bone in his body, but I had been wrong not to.
At that moment, something just snapped. Maybe it was the Witchblade, or perhaps something else, but I ran out of the office, determined not to let him get away with this. I nearly collided with Connor on his way back from the coffee machine but didn't slow down in my pursuit even when he called my name.
I burst out of the front doors of the precinct and made a beeline for the alley that he usually parked his car in when he came to see me. I looked high and low, scouring the entire alley until the Witchblade flared up on my wrist, warning me of danger. I drew my gun and whirled around in one fluid move, coming face to face with Ian, who was holding a man against one wall of the alley and had a gun pointed at the middle of the man's forehead. The man was short and seemed to only be about 25 years old.
Ian grinned at me.
"Oh, Sara, come to join in the fun?" he asked.
Dear God, what's happened to him?' I thought. Aloud I said, "Ian, let him go. You know this isn't right. And if you think I won't hunt your ass down if you do it, you're wrong."
"No, you're wrong, Sara. You don't have it in you to do it. It doesn't matter what you say, since you always put up a tough front. But I can see it in your eyes." He smiled wider. "And if you're about to say, "You don't want to do this," I can go ahead and tell you that indeed I do!"
Time nearly stopped as Ian's finger tightened on the trigger. I screamed and the sound of a gunshot cracked through the air. Still smiling, Ian disappeared and I dashed to the man. I didn't bother checking his pulse; I knew he was dead and the look of fear and shock that was frozen on his face shook me to the core. Taking a deep breath, I went back to the door of the precinct, where a group of cops had massed after hearing the shot. They looked at me questioningly.
"Someone's been shot in the alley. Come on, move it!" I shouted at the congregated cops, all of whom jumped and ran. One ran back into the building, presumably to alert the other detectives, and for the second time in the span of only a few minutes, the Witchblade swirled on my wrist. Instinctively I dove into another alley, watching as a bullet from a sniper rifle hit the very spot where I had been standing a split second ago.
"Pez! This way!" Danny appeared out of nothing and pointed me toward a niche hidden well by a group of large trashcans and stacks of tied newspapers, out of sight from the roof. I sprinted for it and practically dove in, sitting on the ground and hugging my knees to my chest as a few other shots rained around. I knew who was firing them.
Danny sat down next to me, a feat that I didn't take the time to try and understand the physics of.
"Danny, I am so glad to see you. I am so scared," I murmured, trying not to disclose my location.
"I can tell. All this stuff is really freaking you out, huh?"
"No," I said, still managing to hang onto my sarcasm. "Not even a little bit. Come on, Danny. There's no one I can even look at the same way anymoreI can't trust anybody."
"Wait, come on, you're telling me you don't trust Ian–tall, dark, and studly? You don't trust ME–even taller, not quite as dark, and way studlier? Connor, Raven, Mac, no one?"
I smiled faintly. "Especially not Ian. He's the one shooting at me!"
"WHAT!"
"Don't ask. I don't have the energy to relay the whole thing to you, since you obviously haven't been paying attention. God! Some of the things he just said to meI can't think about them. And now on top of this I've got a serial killer after me who's hell-bent on splattering my internal organs all over a wall somewhere, Danny, not to mention that he killed one of my good friends. I can't go home. I can't stay here. I have nowhere to run to and no one to ask for help. Except you." I sighed. "At least I've still got you." I gave him a sideways glance. "And you're not taller than Ian."
Danny smiled faintly but continued. "Sara, you can trust your friends. Mac, Raven, Ciara, Connor. The Associates. They're all with you. You know where to find them. And I'll stick with you."
Thinking I heard footsteps approaching but unsure if they were really there, I looked around wildly, my hair flying everywhere.
"Pez, you've got to calm down. This isn't healthy," he said, putting a hand on my shoulder that I couldn't feel but pretended to.
"Oh, and you think I can fix that?" I snapped, fixing him with a glare that would have killed him if he hadn't been already dead. "I've got a fucking serial killer after me, Danny, not to mention my own assassin-trained boyfriend! What the hell am I supposed to do about that?"
"That wasn't what I meant. I mean you. All this paranoia. Pez, I know you've been through the motherload of stress. All that crap with the White Bulls and Speakers–and every other group that wants you to be a name on a tombstone–by any rights should have killed youif you were a normal woman. But you're not. You're the Wielder. You've made it this far, so what's a little more? You're the smartest person I knowand you have incredible instincts. Plus that little bracelet helps you big timeby letting you see me," he said with a grin. "But I still think you've got Ian pegged wrong. You've just got to sit down somewhere and decide what to do, because if you run headlong into this, as you are wont to do with nearly everything, you will end up splashed on a wall somewhere. Please, Pezjust call him."
"Forget it! That's the last thing I want to do right now. He'll find me and all that'll be left of me will be a grease spot on the pavement."
"You can hold your own. You've got the Blade and a right hook, among other moves, on your side."
"The Blade won't work against him and he could take me down without blinking, as has been demonstrated numerous times. I just need to sort this out first."
"Then at least call someone. Mac, Ravensomeone."
"Fine. I'll call Mac. Even though she just got out of the hospital, maybe she can help somehow. Will that make you happy?"
"Ecstatic," he said dryly. "Gotta go. But I'll be watching out for you."
I fished my cell out of my pocket. "Thanks, Danny. Something tells me I'm gonna be needing you."
I crouched in the alley, clutching my phone like it was a live preserver and I was drowning. I dialed the number and waited with baited breath.
Ring, ringcome on, please answer! Don't know anyone else to call if you're not around'
"Hello?"
The voice was unfamiliar to me, definitely not who I was expecting.
"Umcould I speak to Mac, please?" I asked, speaking low.
"Surejust a second." The mystery person left and Mac came on the line.
"Hello?"
"Mac?"
"Yes. Who is this?"
"It's Sara."
"Sara! That's crazy! I was just getting ready to call you."
"Isn't that interesting," I murmured.
"What's going on? Why are you talking so low?"
"I'm trying to stay hidden from someone."
"What are you talking about? What's going on? Do you need help? Want me to call someone to get you? Raven? Ian?"
"NO! No," I said.
"What? Why?"
"Who, how, where, when, which," I grumbled. "Don't call Ian, please. I can't see him right now."
"What's happened, Sara?"
"I just saw him kill someone. Someone he just came upon randomly in the street. He dragged him into an alley and just like that he shot the guy. Right in front of me. I can't"
"Are you sure that was him?" Mac asked soothingly.
"Of course I am! I live with the man, for God's sake! Then he vanishes, turns up on a roof around here, pulls out a sniper rifle, and tries to grease me right here. This all happens right after he breaks up with me by saying that being around me isn't worth the death, suffering, and destruction."
"Whoa. Okay, okay, just cool off. You're sure."
"Yes. And I'm terrified. My Guardian just killed someone. I'm sure it was him. It had to be him, but he seemeddifferent. Likewithout a conscience almost. I don't think he knows where you livehell, I don't even know where you live. I think I'll be safe with you for a while if you don't mind me intruding."
"Of course I don't mind. And it's not intruding, since I've vowed to come to your aid if ever you need it, and I'm thinking you definitely need some help right about now. I'll send Acacia to come and get you; the doctor said I shouldn't be operating heavy machinery for a little while." She laughed at this. "Where are you?"
"Hold on a second, who are you sending?"
"Acacia Laine. She's my roommate. We can trust hershe knows about the Witchblade. How couldn't she, considering she lives with me? It would be extremely difficult to hide it from her and I didn't see any point in trying. Anyway, I won't tell her who you are right off the bat, just that you're a friend. She'll know it when she finds you, though. Now where are you?"
"An alley off of Jason Street, near the precinct," I said, defeated. I wasn't sure I wanted to trust a stranger, considering Mac had had some shortcomings in the past where outsiders were concerned, buthey, I didn't have many options at this point.
"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?"
"Not really."
"I'll call the gang together."
"Don't call Raven. Ian could contact her too easily. And plus, she's trying to get over Jackson's death. She's gone a little loopy and she's scaring me right now."
"Oh. Right. I just hope his death didn't drive her mad."
"I hope not, too, although she was close enough to it when I was there last to make me believe it. Call Gabriel andcall Ciara. She could be of some help in a way that I haven't thought of yet. The more the merrier and all that. I'll be waiting for this Acacia person. How will I recognize her?"
"She's pretty hard to miss. She's tall, lanky, short red hair and blue eyes, and she's got several tattoos. She also wears a necklace that's a five-inch long sword."
"Oh. Well, that's a distinguishing feature. What tattoos?"
"A circlet of roses around her left wrist and bands of barbed wire around both her right biceps and her right ankle."
"Okay."
"I'll see you soon, Sara. I'll gather some people together and we'll think of something."
"Mac, are you sure I'll be safe there? What if someone can track me, like Raven? My brainwaves or whatever?"
"I've got my apartment sealed. I dabble a little in magick, and that was a nice little feature in my Priestess's Handbook."
"Nice to know those are still in print."
"Very funny, Sara. Don't worry, you'll be safe here with Acacia and me."
"Sure hope so. But if she's not here in fifteen I'm taking off."
"No, Sara, please–"
I hung up. Didn't know who could be listening. Good God, this tops even my usual mindset for paranoia! What is happening to me?'
* * *
Something was wrong. I could feel it, but I couldn't decipher what it was precisely. I couldn't detect Sara on my innate radar and I was getting worried. I called Connor in the car on my way home from my interviews, both of which were successful, but he told me that she'd left in a hurry half an hour ago after there was some kind of incident near the precinct. Evidently a man had been killed. So where was she now?
After wracking my brain to try and find Sara, I thought that one of our friends might know where she was.
Guess I'll just go down the list,' I thought. My first thought was Raven. I wasn't sure how much I could get from her in her current state, butI still considered her my sister. She was worth a try.
* * *
I had stayed in the niche Danny had pointed out to me for ten minutes after I called Mac and was beginning to get antsy. There hadn't been any shots lately and the Witchblade had finally stopped glowing, signaling that the danger was gone. I heard footsteps approaching me for the second time that day and was sure they were actually there this time. My fingers clenched convulsively around the end of my gun and I drew it from my holster.
"Sara? Sara Pezzini?" It was the unfamiliar voice again.
I stood and held my gun down in front of me. "Who are you?" I shouted, maneuvering for a position that would allow me to see the person. I peered around the lip of the niche over the trashcans and saw a very tall, lanky girl with shockingly red hair cut in a boyish style standing around leaning on a broadsword and looking around the alley.
"Sara?" she called again. A long silver chain hung around her neck and with the five-inch sword (which matched the one in her hand) hanging on it, it reached to her navel. Plus the tattoos. With those traits, I knew who it had to be. Acacia Laine.
"Stay where you are and don't make any quick movements. Keep your hands where I can see them." I slipped out of my niche and entered the alley.
She laid her sword on the ground and casually held up her arms, bent at the elbows, and turned to look at me. "I'm no threat, you knowand I don't know why I should be accosted like this if I'm just here to do you a favor. Police habit, I guess."
I stepped out from behind the ledge, keeping my gun leveled at her. "I have no way of knowing that, considering you've got a huge sword in your hand, and I'll tell you why you're being accosted. Because I'm a cop who's paranoid as hell right now and can't afford to hesitate when it comes to shooting people without finding out why they're following me. Now what's your name?" I asked, even though I knew the answer.
"Acacia Laine. Mac sent me to find youthat is, if you're Sara Pezzini."
I lowered my gun. There weren't many people knew about Mac, or at least that nickname. Plus, the girl fit the description. I sighed and holstered my weapon.
"Yeah, that's me," I said, shrugging.
"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" she asked.
I gave her a Look because she used the same phrase that Mac had. "I'm not even going to answer that. My methods work and I stick to them. I've been through this kind of shit too many times and I think I've learned how to stay alive."
"Well, that's nice to know. I'll be sure to keep that in mind." She held out her hand and I looked at it for a moment and then shook it. She smiled.
"Well, guess I need to take you to Mac's place. Come on," she said, leading me to her red BMW convertible. We got in and drove off.
"Nice car," I commented. "How'd you"
"Afford it?" she asked.
"Yeah" I trailed off again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude or anything."
"It's fine. I'm an artist. I've been painting since I was fifteen and that's how I made my money."
"But I thought that art was only worth a lot after the artist died."
"Not always. Plus most of the pieces I've sold were big pieces. I've done a little bit of experimenting with sculpture and glass-blowing, too."
"Wow. That's amazing," I replied.
"Yeah, well. A girl's gotta make a living," Acacia said, smiling and shooting me a glance. "So how did you and Mac become friends?"
"Through Ciara Darkheart. She was getting married–she's Ciara Barnes now–and Mac was a fill-in bridesmaid because another girl didn't show. I was the maid of honor. After that we kept in touch and" I rubbed my temples to try and stave off the headache that was threatening to erupt across my forehead. We stopped at a red light and Acacia looked at me.
"So, was that it?" she asked, then did a double take and took my hand. "Is thatis that what I think it is?" she asked.
"The Witchblade? Yeah," I replied nonchalantly.
The light turned green but Acacia paid no attention; she was still staring at my wrist. Horns from irate drivers sounded around us.
"Go!" I said. "You can look at this later!"
Acacia slammed down on the accelerator and we shot forward. "Sorry," she said sheepishly. "But I have got to get a closer look at that."
"Whatever you want. Where are we headed?" I asked her.
"Mac's place, of course. Why?"
"Could you swing by my place? I need to get a couple of things if I'm going to be staying with you guys for a while."
Acacia glanced at me. "You sure that's the best idea? I mean, won't that be the first place that nut will have gone to look for you?"
"His name is Ian, and even though you're making a good point, I don't have much of a choice. If we go now we'll be gone before he shows up."
"And what if he's already there?" she asked.
I swallowed hard and looked her in the eye.
"Then I'll deal with it."
* * *
Naturally the time I needed to get home the most was when I got stuck in traffic. Taking advantage of the downtime, I dialed Raven's number, not knowing what to expect. Jackson's death had really shaken her and she was unstable to say the very least.
"Hello?" she answered. That in itself was a sign something wasn't right, considering Raven's favorite way to answer the phone was with a chipper "Yo!"
"Raven? It's Ian."
"Dragon." She sounded relieved.
"Hi, Birdie. Listen, I need your help. Connor said that Sara left the precinct half an hour ago but I called the apartment and she's not home yet. Can you sense where she is? She's dropped off my radar."
Raven seemed to think for a moment, but her answer was less than forthcoming.
"The flame has left its dragon...it has gone into hiding, waiting for the red rose with blue tears to come. The rose shall escort the flame to safety, leaving it in the care of its maiden. There the flame shall be safe from the black knightsuch a dark knight who wears the face of a friend."
"What? Raven, where is Sara? What are you playing at?" I asked, getting exasperated.
"Naughty little snake! Play with flames and you will get burned...it will coil and consume you, feeding upon your life," she mused. "But the flame will not burn those who respect it and earn its respect in turn." She laughed. "Worry not, my dragon...your flame shall return to you in time. For now Lord Jason gives the flame sanctuary until such time as the rose can come...goodbye, Dragon."
"Wait, Raven! What are you–"She hung up abruptly, leaving me hurt and staring at the phone, the dial tone drowning out all other sounds.
"–Trying to say," I finished, turning off my cell phone and throwing it into the passenger seat. Then after a moment of thought, I picked it up again and placed a second call.