Witchblade: Talons
Page 20
No!
My worshipers are legion. Millions sing my exploits and will for generations untold . . .
No! What happened to Joe? I want to know. He was sick, he needs me . . .
Forget all your earthly ties. Stay here. This is your home. You belong, you are one with this world.
Shut up! Shut up, damn you . . .
Don’t go back to that dreary world. Don’t give up all this. Don’t give up being a goddess!
I must go back. I must.
No!
Have to. Have to. This is not for me. I am not a goddess. I am a human being.
You’re more than that with us.
With us? Who’s “us”? Tell me that. Tell me finally who you really are!
You will know. You will have the understanding. You will never understand as long as you stay the creature of clay you were born. You must transform and transfigure, and we can help you. You are great, you are a champion. You must stay here.
No. I must go back. You can’t drag me along like this. I am an individual, not some component of a gestalt.
You can be, and you will fulfill your destiny.
No. I must decline the honor. I am going back to the world.
No.
I must.
No, please . . .
* * *
She came out of the skies, down from the cold violet reaches, spiraling, gliding, wings extended to their fullest extent, savoring the last of the sensations of flight, sensations she knew she would never experience again. She touched a foot on the inlaid pedestal.
The Chorus stood at its base, looking up. If their masks could plead, they would. But the masks were unchanged, as masks always are.
She swept her eyes over them. “Do you really need a goddess? Do you need a god at all?”
They all nodded.
“Well, good luck.”
She descended the pedestal’s steps. “Farewell, people. It was interesting.”
There came a shift in the fabric of reality.
She was climbing down from Manny. At the computer’s base stood Ian Nottingham. He gave her a hand to the floor. “Must have been a heady experience.”
“You were there?”
“Saw it all on the CRT.”
“So you know. You saw.”
“I saw. I didn’t quite get everything. Don’t really know what it was all about. I won’t ask where it was. Just how it was.”
“It was . . . very interesting,” Sara said, looking at her wrist. The Blade was back to its bracelet configuration, and she was in mufti. Suddenly, her memory was jogged. “Joe! Where’s Joe?”
“He’s conscious. They’re working on him.”
“Who?”
“The paramedics. You’ve been gone for quite a while. The cavalry arrived.”
“He had a heart attack.”
“Looks like, but as I said, he’s conscious. They’re going to be taking him to the hospital. I really would like to get out of here. Oh, by the way . . .” Nottingham stepped away, reached behind a console, and dragged out a semiconscious Erwin Strauss. “Know this blighter?”
“Yes. Let me get cuffs on him. Where’s Jake?”
“Still out cold. I think he’ll be all right. Listen, I’m leaving while the leaving is good. I’ve discovered a back way out of this place. Emergency exit, it looks like. I’m going to use it, right now.”
“Thanks, Ian. See you soon?”
“Are you forgetting the bond between us?”
“No.”
“Then what makes you think you’ve seen the last of me?”
With a Cheshire Cat smile, Nottingham strode away. He stepped behind a wall of instruments, and did not reappear again.
“What in the name of God has been going on here?”
She turned to see Kenneth Irons approaching. He looked completely astounded, and thoroughly irritated to see his installation occupied by intruders.
“We’ve been playing games on your new computer,” Sara said with a wry smile.
EPILOGUE
Siry was still in ICU when Sara had time to visit him. The nurse told her that he was recovering nicely, and outlined what procedures they had done.
“So what did they do when they poked that needle up my thigh?” Joe wanted to know.
“They did an angioplasty on two coronary arteries, and inserted stents.”
“What the hell are those?”
“Expandable titanium rings that hold the artery open so that blood can flow through them, you fool.” Sara raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t they tell you anything?”
“I was so doped up I couldn’t understand a thing they were saying. What’s it all mean?”
“It means you don’t have to have bypass surgery. It means that you can go home in a week and watch your diet, exercise, and live.”
“And stop smoking, I guess.”
“And stop smoking, you fool.”
“Don’t talk to your boss like that.”
“I will when my boss is a fool.”
He sighed. “Okay, I’ll stop smoking. Thanks for calling the paramedics.”
“You remember anything about the attack?”
“Other than it hurt like hell? No. What the hell did go on? How the hell did you get me away from that Strauss guy?”
Sara glanced at the floor and smiled. “I’ll explain it someday. Strauss came in very handy. The DA dropped its case against me and prosecuted him.”
A big smile sprang to Siry’s face. “So you’re in the clear?”
“I’m free as a . . . I’m off the hook,” Sara said. “The DA ended up with egg on his face, though.”
“What happened?”
“The feds wanted Strauss for questioning, and when they took him off to one of their facilities, he escaped.”
“Escaped!”
“He’s gone. So the DA ends up with nothing to show for all his trouble.”
Joe laughed. When he was done he coughed and gasped, “Poor Albert.”
“Poor Morrison,” Sara said. She glanced at her watch. “Look, I have to run. Enjoy the flowers.”
“Thanks, Sara. You know, there was a lot of weird stuff again.”
“Yes, there was.”
“Good thing I can’t remember any of it. But I want to talk about it someday.”
“As I said, someday. See you later, Joe.”
On her way out, she thought about what was still bothering her.
What had been the source of the magic? The candidates were Merlin, Baba, and Manny, and none of them seemed strong enough. Something had spooked Manny, and it was undoubtedly Merlin. But who had spooked Merlin in the first place? Or had he become the magician he wanted to be?
Irons? Was Irons behind it all?
No. Irons was no magician. He was a wannabe.
In the hospital lobby, she stopped and looked at the bracelet on her wrist.
Of course. There was only one source of magic that she knew of. The Witchblade must be unhappy, weary of this mundane world it was stuck in. It wanted something better; it wanted to be a god.
“You sons of bitches,” she said. “I hope you had fun.”
She left the hospital. As she walked along the streets of the city she loved, she could have sworn she heard a faint, distant giggling.