Disclaimer: This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders of the rights to Starsky and Hutch.

Mahalo to all of the wonderful people in my life, who continue to encourage, support, and inspire me in my endeavor to write.

Warning: "Silent Witness" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. This story also revolves around a paranormal/metaphysical genre; if this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. I would hate to spoil someone's fun.

oo Silent Witness oo

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Saturday, mid morning (Old Canyon Road)

"We think he might be at that church up in the hills on Old Canyon Road," Hutch said speaking loudly into the mic, as he pushed his battered car as fast as it would go. It was times like these, that Hutch wished he had a vehicle like Starsky's, with the exception of the outlandish paint job, of course. "It's that old Catholic Church that was damaged and abandoned from that fire a few years back, remember?" Hutch asked.

"What makes you think he's there?" Dobey's gruff voice came over the mic.

"Joe and I listened to the tape . . . it's just a hunch we have, but it's the only lead we got Cap." Hutch said, "I should be there in a half an hour or so."

"You think I should call for backup?" Dobey asked. "I don't want you there alone Hutch, who knows how many of Simon's goons will be there."

"Yeah, I'd need some help and an ambulance too. Collandra said Starsky was beaten pretty badly." Hutch said softly, unconsciously flooring the gas pedal as he said this. "I don't want to get you in trouble though Captain, you know how the department feels about sending a team out just based on hunches."

"Well Joe Collandra is a very reliable source in my book," Dobey snapped, "And if he sees it the way you do, then to hell with the department and their stipulations!" Hutch smiled, feeling thankful that he and Starsky had the trust and support of their captain.

"In any case, you'll be there for some time alone, since you've had a jumpstart. Be careful Hutch. The backup and ambulance should arrive about a half hour or so after you get there." Dobey cautioned, "I'll call them as soon as we end here . . . just don't do anything stupid. Wait for the backup to arrive."

"Yeah . . .thanks Captain," Hutch said, "I'll be careful . . . I just hope we aren't . . ." The tall blond refused to vocalize the two words he was thinking of. 'You're too late' Starsky told him those were the exact words the dead little girl on the bus had said to him. Hutch felt the cold finger of fear run up his spine, leaving in its wake large goose bumps.

There was a long pause and a heavy sigh from Dobey, "Just keep the faith son . . . Starsky's been in worse situations before and has pulled through . . . that boy must have an angel watching out for him or something."

Hutch shuddered once, and then sighed softly, "Yeah, thanks Cap, I'll keep you posted." The blond cop replaced the mic and began rolling up his windows as billowing dust clouds arose, churned up from the spinning tires of his LTD. The old gravel road had now become nothing but dirt. 'Hang on buddy, hang on, I'm almost there' Hutch said silently in his mind, 'Almost there . . .'

-.-.-.-oo0oo.-.-.-.-

She watched as the dark haired detective moaned softly, every now and then whispering the name of her master, his bruised and glistening body twitched, as his long dark lashes rolled back and forth, dreaming a nightmare that he couldn't escape from. She gently stroked the damp curls that lay on her lap, wishing she could see those deep blue eyes of his, eyes that comforted and grieved for her sister, eyes that she knew would reassure her if he could.

She watched as his sweat drenched face contorted in anguish, holding him down as he suddenly twisted in her arms; and her heart filled with despair, knowing that her master was working on his mind, slowly taking over the detective's courageous and compassionate spirit. She listened to his erratic breathing and heard him softly moan, "No . . . no . . ." The light that shone from him was growing ever dimmer and Sara knew she had to do something before it was too late . . .

'You will belong to me, you are almost mine,' Simone's voice filled his mind, 'Let go of self Polaris and shine only for your creator, let my flame and your light become one.' The calm voiced enticed, beckoning seductively to the weary man.

Starsky felt so weak, like his life force was being sucked out of him. He tried to escape the forceful intrusion into his mind, tried to run from the horror of Marcus, pillaging and raping his soul. He tried to focus on the one thing that would keep him grounded, that would hold him back from floating away with the voice that continuously intruded and coerced, and he tried to 'see' Hutch's face, tried to call out to him; but he felt cold and frozen, unable to think, unable to fight, unable to care. He could "hear" Simone laughing in his mind.

'Do not turn to him for comfort, turn to me . . . be warmed by the flame of my love. Your White Knight is now tarnished and useless. He has forsaken you Polaris, left you here among the ruins of a once devoted love. He used you, took advantage of your kindness and friendship, took from you that which was yours alone, and in the process, he ruined himself, defiled the pureness of something so worthy. Fear not, for retribution shall be ours Polaris . . . join with me and become ever powerful . . . lead my flock with your light and pay homage to only me. You need nothing, but the faithful."

Sara became alarmed, as the hurting man grew restless in her arms. He continued to twist in agitation, his breathing rapid and shallow, moaning softly now and then, his mumbled words were distorted and inaudible, but she knew that he was being bombarded by the relentless call of her master. She knew they were wearing him down, eroding his resolve and determination to wake up and run from the dream.

Sara knew firsthand the sweet surrender of giving up, of losing self to the will of her master, of floating in the illusion of the peaceful nothingness that was Simone. She couldn't allow this to happen to the dark haired detective who held her sister so gently in the rain, who shielded Sienna and comforted her in the last moments of her life. It was time that she stepped up to the plate and did something to help this man, did something to shield him like he shielded her dying sister.

Sara gently shook the man who groaned in response. "Wake up Polaris, you need to wake up now!" she said urgently, watching as his head lolled listlessly in her lap, his dark, heavy lashes rolling back and forth, struggling to escape from the clutches of Simone's dream. "Wake up, you must fight it, we have to get out of here. Please wake up!"

Starsky groaned, feeling his aching body protesting the jarring movements. His weary mind began to vaguely discern another voice, a sweet change to the hypnotically overpowering voice of Marcus, and he struggled to make a conscious effort to focus on that new sound. He sensed the urgency in the musical lilt and he doubled the effort it took to raise his lashes and open his eyes. He could hear the angry shouts from Marcus in the depths of his mind, as he swam away from the murky confusion to the light of awareness, the gentle shakes and the sweet, musical voice guiding his way to consciousness.

Sara shook the detective again, sensing that he was on the verge of waking, trying desperately to be gentle, but knowing the others might come back at any moment. They had to get out now, while the others were detained in the back room. She could feel her heart racing, fear made her hand tremble as she gently stroked the side of the detective's face, mesmerized by the sapphire blue that peeked out beneath the long, dark lashes.

She could tell he was confused by the bewildered look in his eyes, watching as they tracked the ceiling of the church, his mind trying to piece together clues to tell him of his whereabouts. Those blue orbs finally made contact with her own eyes, and she could feel herself being drawn into their ocean blue depths.

She was amazed when she saw his lips curl slightly into a lopsided grin, as he focused on her face. This man was so unlike any other she had ever met, and she could feel herself being drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, to the charismatic aura of this dark haired detective. It was no wonder her master coveted this man, watching and waiting, pursuing him over the years unbeknownst to the detective, wanting the power, the light that shone so evidently in David Starsky. Sara could feel herself smiling in response to the man's grin; he was so damn cute!

"Hi," the brunet rasped out weakly, "Y-you . . . live here . . .huh?" he joked lamely, feeling the worry emanating from the young girl who held him gently in her arms, the trembling in her slight body, alerting him to the fact that they were still in danger. He gazed at her, once again feeling that sense of familiarity . . . knowing he had seen her face somewhere before.

Sara was stunned by the man's charm. She knew he was trying to calm her frayed nerves and she smiled once again, "We have to get out of here, you need to help me get you up okay?" She smiled again when the handsome man gave a slight nod and she gently moved out from under him to support him into a semi-sitting position. She could hear his soft grunts of pain and knew the effort it took for him to move. Her heart reached out in pity and she gently maneuvered him until his back rested against the front side of the wooden altar, as she listened to his labored breathing. "You okay?" she whispered.

Starsky slumped against the altar, grateful for the support. The muscles in his stomach and sides screamed out in protest as he tried to sit up. If not for the help of the girl, he wouldn't have been able to bring himself to move at all. The room spun crazily and he closed his eyes once again to get a handle on the queasiness and sudden cramping in his gut. He breathed through the pain, feeling his head beginning to pound, hearing Simon's voice whispering in the depths of his mind, drawing him back down to the murky confusion he floated in, hearing the eerily soothing drone of Simone's name over and over in his head.

"Hey," Sara said anxiously, shaking the brunet hard, "You got to fight it you hear? We've got to get out of here and you need to help me! I can't carry you, you're too heavy!" she begged desperately, "Please . . . if they know I'm trying to help you, they'll kill me for sure."

Starsky opened his brilliant blue eyes to stare directly into the orbs of the startled girl, "Run," he gasped weakly, "Run away . . . they're comin' now, Marcus . . . told Luke 'bout you . . . leave me . . . and go . . . now!"

"No! Not without you." Sara said determinedly, "You tried to save Sienna. I saw you holding her in the rain while she lay dying. They killed her because they were punishing me for trying to escape."

Starsky stared at the girl, his mind drifting back to the night of the rain, the night he had failed to save the girl, the beautiful young woman with the face of an angel, the same face that hovered anxiously now above his own. "You," he gasped, gently cupping his hands around the sweet heart shaped face of the girl from his dreams, "You died that night . . ." He sat up straighter looking into her eyes, asking silently for forgiveness.

"No . . . not me," Sara said softly, her heart melting as she saw the anguish in the shining blue eyes of the brunet. She gently touched the side of his face, "That wasn't me . . . it was my sister . . . my twin sister. You were . . . you were so kind to her . . . it wasn't your fault that she was killed; it was mine! They killed her to get to me; the blame is on my shoulders, not yours. Right now we have to get going and you need to help me okay? We'll talk about everything once we're safe." She smiled as he solemnly nodded.

He could still hear Simon's voice in his head and he shook it, trying to clear his mind, as Sara attempted to lift the detective under his shoulder, throwing her small frame under his arm in an attempt to get him into a standing position.

The jarring movement caused excruciating pain to flare and burn in the bowels of his gut, and his ribs, and the dark haired detective gritted his teeth to keep from crying out, trying desperately to get his legs under him, when Luke and the others came into the room and saw what was happening.

"Run!" Starsky said quickly, shoving her towards the exit door of the church, as one of the hooded men grabbed him and roughly pushed him down again, the brunet's back brutally scraping against the wooden altar.

Starsky watched in dismay as Luke grabbed the young blonde just before she reached the door. He watched as the bearded man dragged her back to the raised platform where he sat slumped against the altar, dragged her back by her long blond hair, hearing her frightened sobs as they drew nearer.

The look of anger on Luke's face, twisted his features into a mask of hate and jealousy.

Starsky could hear the disciple's heavy breathing as he yanked on the roots of Sara's beautiful golden hair. The young girl moaned, desperately hanging onto the disciple's hand to alleviate some of the pressure on her scalp.

"Leave her alone!" Starsky snarled, struggling against the men who held him down, pressing him back against the altar.

"Simone knew of your treachery, warned me of your betrayal," Luke hissed at the Sara, "And yet, I defended you, wanting to belief in your golden innocence, wanting you to turn to me . . . and here I find you turning to him, helping him to escape from our master! I loved you Sara, and you betrayed my love, when I have been ever faithful to you. You would have ruled beside me, helped me to lead the faithful flock, who even now look to us for leadership. Your beauty has blinded me. You harlot!" Luke suddenly released the handful of golden hair, only to strike his open palm hard against her pale and frightened face. Sara cried out as she fell from the force of the blow, striking her head, as she landed near the struggling detective.

"You fuckin' bastard." Starsky shouted; anger and adrenalin making him struggle even more, "Leave her alone!" One of the hooded men came over with the wooden bowl and stood in front of the detective. Another follower swiftly kicked the dark haired detective near his ribcage, while the others held him down.

Starsky felt the air leave his lungs, and he gasped as pain flared once again in his side. He scrunched his eyes shut and opened his mouth in an attempt to suck more air into his empty lungs.

The brunet winced, as he felt someone yank his head back by the roots of his hair, opening his eyes to see the distorted face of Luke who hissed into his ear, the inverted cross on his forehead blurring in and out of focus, "And you pig, you will know the pain of losing someone you love, like I have. Hate runs deep in my veins for you, yet I cannot change my master's mind, he has chosen you to be the Shepard of our flock. I am, but a servant to my master's will, and you will pledge yourself to Simone as he has dreamed this . . . for Simone never lies." Luke nodded to the man who held the bowl, "Make sure you give him more than you did the last time, our master wills it!"

Without another word, Luke turned and grabbed Sara by the arm, dragging her limp body across the cold concrete as the rest of the worshippers gathered around the pinned detective, swaying and chanting slowly and hypnotically, already obeying Luke's command, as they once again, brutally forced the cop to partake of the vile liquid.

To be continued . . .