by Carol Roi
Part 9
After her extraordinary outburst, Lia kept close to Diandra's side. The Dorian longed to pull her aside for a few moments, and question her more thoroughly about her fears, but there was no time. She was late for her morning session as it was. Entering the temple, she processed down the long center aisle of the room, attended by ten of the lower ranking priestesses. The waiting worshippers lowered their eyes in deference to Apollo's Chosen. All but one.
He stood in the middle of the crowd, taller than average, dark-haired, with a hawk's sharp profile. His dark eyes followed her as she ascended to the sacred mists. Diandra opened up her other sight, and glimpsed something huge and empty and black surrounding him. Was this what Lia had been afraid of? The Dorian glanced around for her, but her erstwhile servant had disappeared. Shaking her head, she took several deep breaths then stepped into the mists, ready to serve her people.
The morning period of prophecy was nearing its end when he approached the front of the temple. Diandra watched through the curtain of mist, seeing him hand over a bag to the priest in charge of collecting payment. It must have been enough, as the strange man was waved forward to the foot of the altar. Diandra opened her sight again, searching for his truth.
Death. Blood. Screams. Madness. The dark-haired man, in face paint and a mask, on the back of a horse, riding down a helpless peasant, running his blade through his body, then moving on to the next victim. The same man, with three others, sharing the spoils of war, including frightened, crying women…and men.
Sickened, and enraged, the Oracle broke from her trance and stepped from the mists, the first time in the history of Delphi that had occurred. She descended toward him, her arm raised in accusation. "You are not one of the faithful!" She glanced at the shocked expressions on her fellow acolytes faces, then returned her steady gaze to him. "He is Death! Death on a horse, killer of scores of thousands! They call to me, they tell me of your evil, and they demand retribution!"
For a moment, the man stood stock-still, as if stunned by her words, then he seemed to realize the danger he was in as the temple guards advanced on him. In one swift motion, he drew his sword and plunged it through Diandra's midsection. She staggered back, not truly comprehending what had happened until she felt the warmth of her own blood spilling over her fingers.
A scream of rage echoed through the temple as Lia leapt on the stranger, driving a blade between his ribs. They wrestled on the floor for long seconds, then she sprang to her feet the victor. Running to her savior's side, she dropped to her knees beside her. "Lady D! Lady D! No, no!"
Diandra opened her eyes with an effort, feeling the floor beginning to tremble under her back. "Run, Lia…"
"No, no, mistress, I won't leave you," the girl sobbed.
The temple began to moan and shudder, and the earth roared. The crack from which the sacred mists rose widened and lengthened. People began to scream and run. Diandra looked up into the face of her charge, feeling Lia's tears falling on her skin. "This is…this is the last prophecy of the Oracle." With the noise of a thousand thunderbolts the earth swallowed the temple of Delphi.
She pushed hard against the weight that pinned her, struggled to free herself, fought to breathe. She was so hot, and there was no air. She was going to die, over and over and over and over--
"Dee! Dee! Wake up! You're having a nightmare."
She opened her eyes to find Blair leaning over her, his expression worried. "Lobo? What…" She couldn't move; something was holding her down. Dee began to twist and wriggle, half sobbing.
"Dee, angel, hold still. You're caught in the sheet." She forced herself to lie quietly, even though she felt like her heart was going to explode, it was racing so fast. Finally he tugged the recalcitrant cloth loose, and she tumbled off the sofa into his arms, shaking and crying. "Whoa, whoa, honey, it was just a dream." Blair held her close, stroking her hair, kissing her forehead. "It's okay, baby, it's okay. I'm not going to let anything hurt you."
Finally, Dee began to relax, the vivid memory of being buried under the temple fading. Letting out a long breath, she tilted her head back, looking into his eyes. "Thank you, Lobo."
He smiled at her, laughing softly. "For what? For loving you?"
She smiled back. "Yeah, for loving me, for being patient with me, for not freaking when I'm freaking."
"Oh, that, that's easy. I know all about bad dreams, and that, my love, was an 8 on the Sandburg Nightmare Scale. You wanna talk about it? They say if you talk about your nightmares, it helps you see they aren't real."
Shuddering, Dee tightened her grip on him. "Don't think that will work in my case. What I was dreaming was real; it did actually happen to me. I dreamt of my first death, at Delphi, when the earth opened up and the temple crashed to the ground."
"Umm," Blair murmured, pressing his lips against her hair. "I don't think I've heard that story."
She snuggled up closer to him, almost crawling into his lap. "Some other time, okay, when it doesn't feel so real."
"Sure, whenever you're ready. So, you ready to go across the hall and get some sleep in a real bed?"
Yawning, Dee nodded in reply. He was just helping her off the floor when the phone rang. "Hello. Hey, Megan, what's going on? You and Jim catch the bad guys yet? You did? Oh, ouch, that sounds painful. No, no, we weren't busy, of course we can give you a lift home. Not a problem. You don't know when you'll be done? That's okay, we'll just head on down to the station and hang out. See you later."
He hung up the phone. "You hear that?"
Dee was already gathering up her clothes. "Yeah, Megan got kicked by some perp and needs a ride home."
"She didn't sound like it was too bad."
"Well, I'll be the judge of that when I see her. Come on, I'm curious to know who could get through her guard." Grabbing her coat, she headed out the door, Blair right behind her.
How long have I been here? Why hasn't anyone come in to talk with me since I was escorted to this interview room? Where the hell is Jan-Michel? Oh, gods! I hope he's all right. Ten paces, turn. Six paces, turn. Ten paces, turn. Six paces... Over and over my boot heels click out the rhythm as I count out the steps around the edge of this interview room, skirting the table and the chairs, refusing to settle.
Officer Johnson had brought me up to this unit, Major Crimes - whatever the hell that means. A uniformed, female officer frisked me, finding my only contact with Jan-Michel, taking that as well as my watch, leaving only my ring. She had also asked for my personal information; name, date of birth, place of residence - which I gave her with only a minor lie. I no longer remember when I was born, so I gave her the date I had chosen for this 'life.' March 22, 1965. The officer had looked at me strangely at that, probably because I don't look like I should be thirty-four.
Damn, how long have I been pacing? The door behind me, the only one leading into the room, opens, and I turn in the middle of my pacing to see the auburn haired Australian walk, or rather limp, into the room. She's carrying my 'tool kit,' the small black backpack, and a thin manila file folder, both of which she sets on the table while gesturing for me to take a seat.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting, miss....?" I slide into the chair facing the mirror, knowing there has to be at least one person behind the two-way glass, and grin amusedly at the woman.
"Eolia. Lee Eolia."
She's opened the file, looking over the information as she stands, trying to keep much of her weight off the leg I had kicked earlier. "Unusual name. I see you're from Rochester, New York?" Her pain-glazed eyes bore into mine, I don't answer, only nod my head. "You're also listed as the owner and current president of WindHawk Securities. What is it your company does?"
I know the game she's playing. I've participated in it long enough, both as a 'suspect' and as an interviewer. She's trying to unbalance me, to throw me off guard. Fine. I can play along with her. "If you have that much from my background check, then you know what it is WindHawk does, detective....?"
"
Inspector. Connor. New South Wales. According to the information we pulled up on your company, you're into counter-espionage?"
Ah, she doesn't like to be called 'detective,' I'll have to remember that. "A little out of your jurisdiction, aren't you, Inspector?" I barely choke back a chuckle when she nails me with a hard as brass glare. "WindHawk Securities is a counter-espionage concern, yes. What else would you like to know?"
"Business been a little slow recently? Need to find a way to fill the company coffers? Is that why you broke into QuestScape?" She's good. And against someone else, someone who hasn't been playing the game as long as I have, her tactics might actually work.
"Business is good, the accountants tell me we have over 4.8 million in the bank and I didn't break into QuestScape. I walked in."
"Under a false name. LeAnne Crowley. Or is your name really Lee Sadih?"
Low blow, Inspector. "It was Lee Sadih. I changed back to my maiden name two months ago. Surely the information you pulled up on me shows that?"
She closes the file, hands clasped in front of her, trying to convey her sympathies for my loss. Bitch, you have no idea... "Yes, the information shows that. It also led me to an unsolved, rather bizarre, murder in Seattle." I shiver; I know what she speaks of, intimately. Before I can respond, she's launched in another direction. "So, why did you break into QuestScape?"
"I didn't break in. Not exactly. I was performing a security check."
She lifts up my backpack, opens the main compartment and carelessly dumps the contents. I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I noticed that someone, probably whomever put everything into the evidence bags, had removed the blasting caps. "And I suppose this is your cosmetic kit?"
I don't answer her, letting the 'evidence' speak for itself.
"This is some serious hardware for a simple security check, Ms. Eolia. Especially this," She holds up the card reader scrambler I had used to gain access to the development lab. "Looks more like what I think a thief would use."
"It is. That's why I use that device, and the others you just dumped, when I do a security systems check. If I can get past the security measures, anyone can."
"So why didn't the head of QuestScape's security know about this 'security check' of yours?"
"It was a private contract between QuestScape and WindHawk. Only a few people knew about the contract."
Before she can launch into another series of questions, there is a polite knocking on the door. I wince in sympathy as she limps over, opens the door a crack and is handed something. It's a piece of paper, which she reads, then stuffs in her pocket, shuts the door and turns back to me. "What did you do with the zip-drive, Lee?"
Finally! "If you know about the zip-drive, then I assume you've been in contact with Mr. Norman Ventriss?"
"Where is the information you stole?"
"I didn't steal it, Inspector, it was already missing from the lab when I got there."
"I suppose you're going to try to tell me Mr. Ventriss set you up? That there never was any zip-drive?"
"No. There was someone else in the lab..."
"Your partner in crime?"
"No! A thief. One who tried to kill me."
"Ah." She smiles. I don't like that look. "So which one of you was the one to blow out the window in the lab? You? Sloppy work, setting off the alarms like that."
Blow out the... There is no way she could know, is there? Unless... Wait a minute. Sharee Milton was on the floor above, she could have heard? "He did. He had a damn shotgun he aimed at my head. He probably took the zip-drive."
"And now we're back to this other thief. You know, I just don't believe you, Lee." There's another knock, but this time it comes from the mirror behind her. "Excuse me."
She limps out of the room. I follow on her heels, letting the door close between us as I flip off the overhead lights. Looking into the mirror, I see three shapes leave the observation room. One is much taller than the others, probably the commander of the division. The other two are of similar height, most likely her partner and maybe someone who was able to confirm my alibi. Either that or maybe a Prosecuting Attorney who's going to tell them they have nothing to really hold me on.
I flip the lights back on, satisfied now my suspicions have been confirmed, that I had been watched while the Inspector conducted her interview. I walk back over to the chair I had abandoned, sinking back into it as my mind starts to wander again.
Where the hell is LaFollet?
"Are you sure they don't have anything besides this dreck?" Dee asked, swallowing a sip of what passed for coffee at the police station.
Blair followed her out of the break room. "Unfortunately, no. Except…Simon has a stash of flavored stuff in his office."
"Ugh, that might just be worse than this. Flavored coffee, ick." She shuddered for emphasis. "Look, I'm going to dump this out and grab a soda. You want one?"
"Yeah, sure, root beer if there's any in the machine." She turned back toward the break room then froze in her tracks. "Dee?"
She waved her hand at him to be quiet, then turned toward the elevators, her face apprehensive. "Immortal," she finally said, just as the elevator doors slid open, and a man staggered out, one hand held to his head, his expression pained and confused. "Correction, make that new Immortal."
Blair looked from her to the other man, wide-eyed. The man was probably in his late thirties, slightly taller than Dee, and his blond hair was streaked and matted with blood. His coat was bloodstained as well. "Shit, Dee, what do we do?"
Dee's vision focused on the wrist of the hand he had pressed against his temple. "He's a Watcher!"
"What!"
"We have to get him out of here, somewhere we can talk to him."
Blair snapped his fingers. "One of the interrogation rooms, third door on the left around the corner. I'll bring him. Go!" Dee ducked around the corner and Blair approached the unfamiliar Watcher. "Hi, can I help you?" He held out his left hand as if to support the other man, making sure he noticed the blue symbol on the inside of his wrist. "Pardon my saying so, but you look like crap. The cops see you like this, you're going to be answering a lot of unpleasant questions."
He waved his police ID under the man's nose, while guiding him down the hall and into the interrogation room. Dee wasn't there, and Blair figured she was going to let him see how much he could get out of the Watcher before she showed up. "I can help you, but you're going to have to tell me what happened to you."
He pushed the still confused man into a chair then went to close the door. "Why don't you start with who you are? I'm Blair Sandburg."
His name seemed to ring a bell with the stranger. "You're Pallas' Watcher."
"Not really. I'm a researcher for Joe Dawson. I didn't catch your name." Blair folded his arms across his chest and leaned his back against the door.
"I'm Jan-Michel LaFollet, Lee Eolia's Watcher. I lost her tonight, and heard she was brought here."
Eolia? Great that was just what he wanted to hear. So much for being rid of her after the meeting at the church that afternoon. "So you came to pick up her trail?" The man nodded. "Is she the one who hurt you?"
"Hurt me?" He reached a hand up to his temple again, the sticky feel of the blood there seeming to remind him what had happened. "No, I don't think so. I was in the car, waiting for her, and the alarms went off. She jumped out the window, was trying to escape when…" He closed his eyes, trying to remember. "Someone pulled open the car door and…shot me…oh my god! They shot me!" LaFollet jumped to his feet, his eyes wide.
"Jan-Michel, it's okay, you're fine."
Both of the man's hands went to his head and he doubled over. "Oh, god, what is that? It's inside my head and outside of me at the same time." Moving away from the door, Blair settled the Watcher in a chair again as Diandra entered.
"That, Mr. LaFollet, is what we call a 'buzz'. You're an Immortal now." He just moaned and shook his head, his eyes closed. Dee crossed the room toward him. Catching his chin in her h
and, she raised his head. "Open your eyes and look at me. It's the only way to make the buzz fade."
Slowly he did as he was told, his hands dropping to his lap. "You're right, it's gone now. Who the hell are you?"
Taking a step back, Dee leaned against the edge of the table. "I'm Diandra of Delphi, Champion of Thymescria, but nowadays, I go by Dee Pallas."
LaFollet seemed to shrink into himself, and his eyes darted around the room nervously. She could hear his heart pounding. "Goddess! What do you think I'm going to do to you, Watcher? Take your head in a police station?"
Swallowing nervously, the new Immortal shrugged. "I don't know. I…you know about the Watchers?"
