Here's the first of the next two chapters.

Once again, I don't own Starsky or Hutch or Kolchak.

Chapter Seventeen- Seeing Forever

Starsky fought down the sick terrified feeling that twisted in his gut. They would find Hutch; he would be alright. They had to. No other outcome was permissible. They had come this far and made it through everything life had thrown at them. They would make it through this too.

He drove the Torino wildly, as fast as he dared, to Mary Polanski's house. She had to be able to tell them something.

But when they reached it, and explained to Mary what had happened, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Detective Starsky. I'll try if you want me to. But it's not something I'm good at. I told you, I'm mostly a fake. Just a little bit of real talent is all I have."

"Just try, Mary, please. That's all I ask," Starsky pleaded.

"Well, OK," Mary gave in. "Do you have anything that belongs to him that I can hold? Something that he's worn would be really good."

Starsky thought for a second. "Yeah, yeah, I think I do. Wait."

He ran out to the car, and threw open the trunk. Sure enough, there was some of Hutch's laundry shoved in that had never been taken to the laundromat. He grabbed a shirt and ran back inside.

"Here," he snapped, shoving it at Mary.

She took it cautiously. "OK, here goes."

She buried her face in the shirt and sat unmoving for a few moments. Starsky stood in an agony of anxiety as she breathed heavily.

Finally she looked up again and shook her head. "It's no good," she said, distraught. "All I get is something like my own house here. Nothing else. I'm really sorry, Detective Starsky, but I'm just not strong enough."

Despair washed over Starsky. He put his head down. There had to be someone, something...

Suddenly he jumped up. "Barlow, Kolchak. Come on. If she can't, I know who can."

"Who?" Kolchak asked, grabbing up his hat and following.

"Joe Collandra."

"Joe Collandra?" Mary squeaked, jumping from her seat. "You know him? I've always wanted to meet him. I'm coming with you!"

"Who the hell is Joe Collandra?" Kolchak blustered, as the four of them loaded into the Torino.

"Isn't he the psychic that you guys got involved with once?" Barlow asked.

"Yeah, that's him," Starsky replied, as he swung the Torino around a corner, sending Mary sprawling onto Kolchak's lap.

"A psychic? You were involved in a case with a psychic?" Kolchak asked. No one answered.

Mary pushed herself upright again. "I've heard that he's the best there is," she said hopefully. "As good as it gets. Of course," she added more quietly, "that still doesn't mean he can see everything."

He'll see this, Starsky thought. He'd better. He has to.

Joe's greasy spoon diner looked about the same as it had before, no better, no worse. There were still no patrons inside. Joe himself looked up from behind the counter as they stormed through the door.

"What the hell…?" he started, then covered his eyes and winced away. "Whoa! Can you turn down the brightness on that thing?"

"I knew it!" Mary squealed. "You can see it too!"

"I can see it, but what the hell is it? Detective Starsky, why are you glowing like that?"

"He was kissed by an angel!" Mary chirruped.

"Mary, do you have to…" Starsky broke off. "Joe, I need a favor from you. Really, really badly."

"You'd better stop the glowing thing first then," Collandra said testily. He glanced at Starsky and covered his eyes again. "I can't even look at you."

"Wait, why does it hurt so much? It shouldn't. If it's too bright, just shield yourself a little bit," Mary asked, puzzled.

"What the hell do you mean, shield? And who the hell are you, anyway?"

"My name's Mary Polanski. Didn't anyone ever teach you how to close yourself off to stuff? My grandma taught me."

"No, no one ever taught me anything about it," Collandra snapped.

A look of total shock came over Mary's face. "Nothing? Oh boy, that's got to hurt some times! Detective Starsky, we got to wait just a couple of minutes while I teach Mr. Collandra some stuff he should know."

Anxiety twisted Starsky's stomach. "Mary, we don't have time."

"Look at him! He can't even face you! How can he help you like that!"

It was true, Collandra was still grimacing away.

"Oh, hell. All right, Mary, but make it fast."

"Hey, aren't you guys missing something? Like telling me who the hell you are and what you want?"

"You're the psychic," Starsky snarled. "You tell me."

"All I can see right now is that you're shining like a damn Christmas tree!"

"I can help you with that, Mr. Collandra," Mary said. "Please, let me help."

"Look, let's start with who the hell you are first, OK?" Collandra almost pleaded, still with his eyes shaded.

"My name is Mary Polanski," Mary repeated patiently. "I'm a fortuneteller, and a little bit of a psychic too. I've been helping Detective Starsky with a case, but I'm not strong enough, and this is very important." Her recitation speeded up as she went along. "So we decided to ask you to help, but it looks like you need my help first. So can I help? It'll only take a few minutes, and it'll make you able to deal with stuff like that," she pointed to Starsky, "much better. OK?"

"What do you want to do?" Collandra asked uneasily.

"Just talk to you, teach you a few things. Just alone for a few minutes. Is that all right with everyone?" She looked anxiously around at Starsky.

"Just hurry up," Starsky snapped impatiently.

"Mr. Collandra? Please?"

Collandra threw up his hands. "Ok, hell, what do I have to loose? You want some privacy? Come on, I have an office in the back."

He gestured towards the back. Mary smiled, and followed his lead.

The two psychics were gone for about fifteen minutes. It was the longest fifteen minutes of Starsky's life. He paced anxiously across the length of the diner.

"Calm down, Starsky," Barlow said soothingly. "They'll be back soon."

Starsky didn't answer. His mind was too busy building horrific images of what Hutch's captors might be doing to him.

If Kolchak was right about the date of the sacrifice, he would be kept alive until the first. But alive didn't mean unhurt. The last time Barlow had seen him, Hutch had been beaten and bloody, chained to a wall. Who knew what worse had been done since then? In frustration he took a swipe at a chair that was in his way, knocking it over.

Barlow looked worriedly over in his direction but wisely didn't say anything.

Finally Mary and Collandra reappeared. Mary had a satisfied smile, and, Starsky had to admit, Collandra looked a lot less tense then he had. He also wasn't wincing away from Starsky.

"Hey, Mary! You're right!" he said, "I can look at him now without it hurting!"

Kolchak stepped up to him with his recorder out. "Mr. Collandra? Are you the psychic that was used by the police in that kidnapping in Atlantic City some years ago?"

Collandra eyed him warily. "Now who the hell are you?"

Kolchak pulled a card out of his pocket. "Carl Kolchak, INS. Can I ask you a few questions?"

"Not NOW, Kolchak," Starsky snarled, nearly at the breaking point. "Get your damn story later!"

"All right, all right." Kolchak moved aside, grumbling to himself. "I'll come back and talk to you another time, then," he added to Collandra, who ignored him.

"All right, Detective Starsky, what is this about?" Collandra asked.

"Didn't Mary explain?"

"No, I knew you wanted to keep this fast, so I just told him my stuff. Not why we were here," Mary explained. "And I just gave him the basics quickly. I'll have to come back later and really help him out."

"So, Detective, what is it you want me to do?" Collandra asked again.

Starsky swallowed nervously, all his anger melted away in the overwhelming fear. "Hutch is missing," he said simply. "He was kidnapped last night. We think they're going to kill him in a few days."

He gave the shirt, which he'd been twisting in his hands, to Collandra. "This is his. Can you find him? Please?"

Collandra glanced at Mary, who smiled reassuringly. He took the shirt. "I guess I owe you one," he said grudgingly. "OK, I'll try."

He crumpled it, and pressed it to his face the same way that Mary had. Then he suddenly looked up, with an expression of surprise. He stared at Starsky. "Oh, that's why you're so concerned. Congratulations, Detective. I think. I didn't know it was allowed by Internal Affairs."

"Thanks," Starsky snapped sardonically. "Yes it is, now, and no one knows anyway. So don't go around broadcasting it."

Collandra muttered something unintelligible and put his head down again. For some moments he sat like that, silent, trembling slightly. Then he moaned softly, and sweat broke out on his forehead. Mary touched him gently on the shoulder.

"It's OK, Joe," she murmured. "Don't fight it. Let it come."

Joe whimpered. "Big house!" he gasped. "Pretty colors around the door." He shook from side to side. "Words next to the door. A sign…"

"What does the sign say, Joe?" Mary prompted. "Remember what I said about focusing. Can you see it?"

"No, no… Yes!" Collandra gasped. "One word. 'Netherworld'". He was panting and shaking now. Suddenly he gave a shout, and snapped his head up. His eyes stared wildly. "He's calling it! Don't let it out!" he panted. "Whatever's down there, don't let it out!"

"What do you mean? Down where?"

Collandra looked puzzled. "I... I don't know. I just know, someone calls it, and if it gets out, it's a really bad thing. Like... doomsday bad." He was shaking and drenched in sweat.

"Ok, ok, we won't let it out," Barlow said soothingly. "But where? What did you see?"

Collandra shrugged helplessly. "A big house, and colors around the door. And that one word, 'netherworld'. And there's something there that shouldn't ever be allowed to come up."

"What the hell do you mean by that, 'shouldn't be allowed to come up'?" Starsky snarled, frustrated. "What shouldn't be allowed to come up? And come up from where?"

Collandra shook his head in confusion and annoyance. "I have no idea what it means, Detective," he said sharply. "Maybe you'll figure it out yourself. You wanted me to do this, and I did. And that's what I came up with. That and the word 'netherworld'. You tell me what it means." He wiped sweat from his face. "Better still, don't tell me. That's all I know, and it's all I want to know."

"'Netherworld'? What the hell does that...?" Starsky trailed off. A memory flickered through his brain. Where had he...? Yes! That was it! "Netherworld! The Church of the Netherworld! That's it! Joe, do you have a phone I can use?"

Collandra was pulling himself together now. He shrugged. "Yeah, sure. You can use the one on the counter."

Starsky dialed a number he knew as well as his own. A familiar voice answered the phone. "The Pits, where the fine meet to dine and put their taste buds on the line."

"Huggy? It's Starsky."

"Starsky?" The playful bantering tone was gone, and Huggy's attitude was suddenly serious. "Is there any word about Hutch? I've been asking questions but gettin' no answers. No word on the street at all."

"No, and that's what I'm calling about. I may have a line, but I need to know something. After we busted Ezra Beam, what happened to his phony 'Church of the Netherworld' setup?"

"Ezra Beam? That flake? You think he had something to do with this? I thought he was still locked up tighter than Howard Hughes vaults."

"He is. That's why I want to know what happened to his church after that."

"Let me think... Yeah, I know. There were a couple of his followers who were serious about it, and they kept it going after he got sent away. Then about a year ago, some new cat came and took it over. A brother, that's all I know."

"A brother... a black guy? You're sure about that?" It could be Papa Theodore then.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I heard he was a big dude, kinda' crazy. Changed the name of the place from what it was to something else, has 'Dagon' in it. I forget exactly what."

"But it's still in the same building, though, right?" Hope blossomed in Starsky's chest. That had to be it.

"Far as I know, sure. Why? You think that's where Hutch is?"

"Yeah. He'd better be." Starsky slammed down the phone. "OK, that's it. I know where he is," he said to the group. "Let's go."

"I'll come back tomorrow," Mary called over her shoulder to Collandra as she followed the men out. "We'll work more on the shielding then, OK?"

"Yeah, OK. Thanks for everything. Good luck," Collandra called after them. "You'll need it," Starsky heard him add quietly as they left. It was not comforting.

"Where are we going? Shouldn't we get backup? And a warrant?" Barlow asked, as they piled into the Torino.

"What judge would give us a warrant based on the word of a psychic? By the time we convinced anyone, it might be too late." This was something Starsky knew he had to do himself. There was no time to wait for anyone else. He looked at Barlow, eyes narrowed. "Are you in?"

"Yeah, of course, if you really think we'll find Hutch." Barlow said defiantly.

"OK, then we'll straighten it all out afterwards." After all, that had always worked for them before. He peeled out of the parking lot, and headed towards the house that had once held Ezra Beam's church.