by Cindy Combs
A small but proud smile stretched across Danny's face, as it always did when someone mentioned his wife and their baby on the way. "I will."
A couple of hours later, Sara and Jake were in their seats, stretched out as much as possible in economy class. The plane was only half full, so they managed to be across the aisle from each other.
As the stewardesses prepared for take off, Sara studied her junior partner. Jake was staring at the seat in front of him, looking both intense and exhausted. She wasn't used to seeing that much worry in the Californian's face. Usually, Jake was pretty laid-back, trying hard to do a good job and not put his foot in his mouth as he inevitably did. Now he looked older, more worn out than she'd ever seen him. Sara leaned over and laid a hand on his arm. "You doing okay?"
Jake nodded, not really looking at her.
"Do you need a pain pill?"
Jake shook his head as he finally turned to her. "Danny nagged me to take one before we went through security."
"How's the cough?"
"I'm still congested, but the cough syrup's working."
Unable to say much else, Sara patted his arm. "Try to get some sleep."
"You too, Mom."
Sara rolled her eyes at the annoying nickname. Jake went back to staring at the seat. Once the plane was in the air, Sara did drift into sleep. Hidden beneath her sweater, the red stone of the Witchblade lit with swirling light.
~FLASH~
A man in armor was clasping the hand of another young man, dressed in a tunic befitting a lord. "It must be guarded, until such time when it is needed."
"I pledge that it will be done, brother."
~FLASH~
A century later, a young man was hiding behind barrels on a wooden dock. Black-hooded men were entering the building in front of him. Silently, he grasped a rope and climbed into the nearby ship.
~FLASH~
A man laid under a tree, his Yankee blue uniform drenched in blood. A younger man in the same uniform knelt beside him, tears running down his face. The dying man was pulling at his collar.
~FLASH~
A rider on a pinto rode hard across a western landscape, leaving behind him a cloud of dust. In the distance were others chasing him.
~FLASH~
A blond boy slowly climbed out of a car, staring at the rundown house. The sun was close to the horizon, the sky beginning to deepen in color. "Tyler, what is this place?"
A tall, dark-haired teenager turned back, his blue eyes flashing with annoyance. "It's the old Craddock place."
"It's haunted," added another teenager. Slightly younger, the blond had similar features as the older boy.
"Haunted?" the first boy repeated, looking scared. "Then why are we here?"
"Hey, you're the one who wanted to come with us," Tyler replied. "You've been following Avery and I around like a lost puppy since you arrived last week." He walked towards the house.
"Yeah, Jakie, be careful what you wish for," Avery snidely remarked, following Tyler.
The boy, who did look scared and lost, followed the older boys. "But why are we here?"
Avery laughed, sounding disillusioned. "Why are any of us here?"
Inside the house, the gloom deepened, throwing shadows across the room. The oldest boy led them through what once had been a front parlor. Dust clung to ancient drapes. A chair with a broken leg laid on its side, its color indistinguishable. In the room beyond was a library. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases were built into the walls, some of the shelves knocked off-kilter. The boy could see holes in the floor.
"Yep, there's the book." Tyler leaned forward towards the bookcase on the other side of the room, though he didn't move from the doorway. "Robinson Crusoe, just like the copy I ruined from the library. We just need to grab it, clean it up, and old Mrs. Reeves won't know the difference."
"Yeah, but do we want to walk across that floor?" Avery asked.
Suddenly, Tyler looped an arm around the boy. "That's where Jake comes in. He's light; he can walk across and get the book for me."
"You sure?" Jake asked, warily studying the floor
"Sure. You poor relations have to earn your keep somehow, right? Consider it your initiation."
Jake flinched at the comment about poor relations, then looked up at the bigger boys, blue eyes wide. "Won't the ghost mind?"
Tyler laughed. "Good one, kid. Now go get it." He gave the smaller boy a hard shove.
Jake stumbled a step, but continued to proceed across the floor. He was about half way when a loud ~crack~ echoed through the room. "Oh, oh." Jake uttered before the floor gave way underneath him.
The boy fell to the floor below, dust and boards raining down on him. Once everything had stopped falling, Jake slowly climbed back to his feet, blood flowing from his elbows and knees. Shaking a little as he held one arm against his stomach, he coughed out, "Tyler? Avery?" When there was no response, the boy swiped at the blood welling from his cheek and called louder, "Tyler, Avery, HELP!" The only answer was the faint sound of a car motor driving away.
Sara jerked awake. Then she glanced across the aisle, reassuring herself that Jake was still there, staring at the seat in front of him. She had no doubts that the young boy in the last vision had grown up into the man beside her.
The need to protect surged through her. Who were Tyler and Avery? Her impression was that they were somehow related to Jake. She didn't have any cousins or siblings, but she knew of abandonment and the desperate need to fit in. A part of her wished that she had been there, backing Jake as she did now. Yet Jake apparently had found a way out, in order to be sitting beside her. Why did the Witchblade show her that incident? How was it important?
* * *
Kenneth Irons' Mansion, New York ,NY
Confusion filled Ian Nottingham as he paced his master's favorite den. Everywhere he looked, memories of Kenneth Irons flashed through his mind. While he believed that the powerful man was finally gone for good, a part of Ian still couldn't accept it. All his life Irons had educated him, ordered him, controlled him. He had served his master for so long, Ian was uncertain how to carry on without his orders. "You taught me how to handle every possible contingency except this one, Father," he muttered into the air.
The only thing Ian had left to cling to was his loyalty to the Witchblade and Sara. He stopped moving to stare at his father's portrait. Irons' obsession with the relic had become his, though Ian saw his role as more protective, less controlling than the one his master had desired. But how could he protect Sara when she was on the opposite coast? She had never left the city before. Just because the threat from Kenneth Irons was gone did not mean there weren't other enemies of the Witchblade sitting in wait for the current wielder.
Should he stay here and continue the struggle to keep Irons' company together, or should he follow his Lady Sara to Washington? Which would his master chose? Or more exciting, what did he want to do?
For a moment, Ian relished the fact that it was his decision. He turned away from his father's portrait and made it. His loyalty was no longer split between Irons and the Witchblade's current wielder. He was following Sara to Cascade.
* * *
Later, Ellison's truck, Cascade, WA
"Man, Jim, none of this is making sense." Blair slapped the folder in his lap closed. "Both Chance's office at work and home were ransacked, but nothing was taken. He and his nephew were victims of similar attacks, but McCartey is way across the country and there were tons of easier victims to reach here. Nor does McCartey have any ties to Chance's business, so a business connection seems remote. Kidnapping seems rather pointless, considering Chance is still in ICU and in no condition to pull together a ransom. Did you get anything from that detective from New York?"
"Not much," Jim replied as he drove. "Detective Woo said they've been on stakeout for the past three nights, so that rules out McCartey taking any trips here. In fact, Woo said they've all been working overtime with everything's that happened."
"Yeah," Blai
r agreed. "I can't even imagine what it must be like for them."
"It's hard for any group to lose that many people, but how they lost them..."
A solemn silence reined for a moment, both thinking of how it would be if Cascade had been the target. Then Jim shook off the mood. "Woo said that McCartey apparently interrupted the perp tossing his place. Pezzini chased him out the fire escape, but lost him on the street."
"So it seems that someone is searching for something," Blair quietly concluded. "Something that Patrick Chance was more likely to send to his nephew, the surfer-turned-cop, than anyone else in the family. What could it be?"
"Don't know, Chief. Maybe McCartey has an idea." Jim pulled into the parking lot for Cascade Memorial.
As they walked into the waiting room for ICU, Jim immediately scanned the area. Down the hall, he spotted a blond man standing by the glass outside Chance's room. McCartey's hair was a lot shorter than the picture, but he still had the lean, broad shoulder, muscular build. Worry filled his face as he stared through the window. At least someone cared that Patrick Chance was injured. A soft cough suggested why the young man wasn't in the room. Probably didn't want to pass his germs to his uncle.
"Whoa," Blair breathed next to him. Jim snapped his attention to the waiting room, wondering what had caused that response from his partner. Then he spotted the beautiful woman sitting in a corner, idly flipping through a magazine. Brown hair flowed past her shoulders, framing a square, elegant face. Green eyes, tired but alert, spotted them. She rose from the chair with the grace of a cat to walk over to them.
"Man, I'd like to get to know her better," Blair whispered.
Jim hit him on the back, out of view of the woman. "That's probably Pezzini, the New York cop. She'd break you into pieces at the first rude suggestion."
"Yeah, but what a way to go," Blair grinned, unperturbed.
Sara had seen them enter the room. The tall, muscular man with short brown hair was easily recognizable as a fellow cop. Admittedly, the shorter one with the long hair didn't fit the profile, but the two men walked together like a team. She decided she should find out if these were the men assigned to Jake's uncle's case. Standing up, she started their way when suddenly, a huge jungle cat appeared in front of her. "What in hell?" she thought as she faltered a step. Then the black feline turned and jumped. Sara blinked as the cat disappeared into the taller man. Wondering what the Witchblade was trying to tell her, she continued across the room. "Hello, I'm Detective Sara Pezzini."
The shorter man greeted her with a warm smile and a handshake. "Detective Blair Sandburg." He glanced at his partner, who was staring at Sara's bracelet. Sara tried not to show her unease as Sandburg elbowed the other man.
The tall man blinked, then turned his gaze to her face. "Detective James Ellison."
Sandburg gave his partner another strange look before continuing, "Welcome to Cascade, though I wish it was under better circumstances."
Sara returned his rather infectious smile. "Thank you. Actually, I'm kinda happy to see something besides New York, but it's hard on my partner. Any idea who did this?"
"We're still digging, but we suspect the attacks on McCartey and his uncle are related," Jim replied. "We'd like to talk with him."
"Talk with me?" Jake had walked up to them. Sara quickly introduced him. Jim frowned. McCartey looked worse close up.
Blair, too, noticed how tired the fellow detective appeared. "Hey, I bet you two are exhausted, between the long flight and the time change. You have a place to stay?"
Jake slowly shook his head. "Afraid I haven't thought that far ahead." He coughed hard.
"We'd appreciate suggestions," Sara admitted.
"I have some friends who own a small hotel," Blair offered. "Being off-season, I'm sure they've got space and it'll be reasonable. Let me give them a call."
As Blair turned away and walked towards the phone, Jim gave the New York detectives a friendly smile. "It's a nice place. But I have to warn you; Bill and Marcy are old friends of Blair's mom from her flower child days. Each room has been Feng Shui'd and contains a homeopathic remedy bar."
"A what bar?" Sara asked, baffled.
A small chuckle that quickly turned into a cough rolled from Jake. "I'll explain later. Sounds like something I'd expect from home."
"California, right?" Jim asked.
"Yeah." Jake coughed again. "I grew up near San Diego."
Blair walked back. "All set! Then tomorrow, we'll pick you up for breakfast."
"Sounds good," Sara replied.
* * *
After making sure the New York detectives had arrived safely at the inn, Jim reached for his radio. He put in a request for an extra patrol in the area, then started the truck. As he pulled away from the curb, Blair asked, "You afraid whoever attacked him in New York could be back here?"
"Not out of the question," Jim replied. "It doesn't sound like the attacker's found what he's looking for and certainly has no problem with transcontinental travel. Besides, McCartey looks like he could use a good night sleep without perps with knives interrupting it."
"Yeah." A comfortable silence filled the cab for a moment. "Ah, Jim, what's with you and Pezzini? When most guys are confronted with a beautiful woman, they usually stare at her face or her chest, not her wrist."
"Most beautiful women don't have bracelets that wink at me."
"WHAT?" Blair turned as much as the seatbelt allowed. "What do you mean, it winked at you?"
Jim shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "That big red stone suddenly developed an eye and it winked."
"Jim, stones don't wink."
"That one did."
"Maybe Jake isn't the only one who needs sleep."
Jim shot him with an icy glare.
* * *
Sara leaned back into the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. The MacIntyres turned out to be warm and friendly, fussing over Jake's cold and providing hot tea to chase the night chills away. Even nicer, the price had not been nearly as bad as she had feared. Mr. MacIntyre explained that they were just happy to have guests this time of year. She also suspected Sandburg's recommendation and the fact that they were New York cops helped, too. Sara wasn't sure what to make of all the sympathy coming from around the country. She was used to protecting her city without so much as a 'thank you' from anyone. For her partner, however, she'd accept the extra nice touch.
Too bad there wasn't time to talk with Ellison and Sandburg about the case. Both had struck her as competent, and she appreciated how fast they picked up on Jake's exhaustion. However, once a detective, always a detective. She wanted to find out what was going on and who was threatening Jake. Then she'd figure out why there was a black jungle cat jumping into Ellison.
Finally, she drifted off to sleep.
* * *
~Flash~
Young Jake walked up to the front steps of a large, white house. A policeman walked beside him, hand firmly on his shoulder. When the front door opened, a tall blond man looked at the cop and then the boy. "What is this?"
"I found him walking along side the road on Waterview drive," the cop explained. "He said he's staying here?"
The man shot the boy an angry look. "We're stuck with him until his mother gets back from Africa. What kind of trouble is he in?"
"No trouble," the officer assured him. "Just that it's dark and he was a long way from home."
"I'll take care of it, Officer." As the boy limped into the entryway, he spotted his two older cousins lounging in the living room, looking like they'd been there all evening. Then the man closed the door and turned to him. "What in the world were you doing out this time of night?"
Jake flinched. "I'm sorry, Uncle Paul, but Ty..."
"Sorry? Sorry? You had to be escorted home by a POLICEMAN! This is a proper neighborhood. Policemen do not come to this house. I will not tolerate this nonsense."
"But..."
"You are grounded for the next two weeks. You will go to your room and stay there. You
will not be allowed out of the house. Why on earth your mother thought marrying that trash McCartey was a good idea..."
As the boy turned to get away from his angry uncle, Avery walked past him, roughly bumping his shoulder. "You were going to rat on us, little boy? Just wait until we're done and you'll wish you'd stayed with the ghost."
Moving as fast as he could, the boy climbed the stairs to a tiny, mostly bare room. He sat on the bed, wrapping his arms around his middle. He stared at his backpack lying on the dresser.
~Flash~
Another tall blond man pulled up near a guard house. A heavy man in a uniform walked out to meet him, holding off the drenching rain with an umbrella. "Sorry to bring you out in this weather, Mr. Chance."
The blond man looked up at him. "Moira said you mentioned something about a McCartey?"
The guard nodded. "Yeah, we found a kid walking along the road who says his name is Jake McCartey, and he's looking for you."
"I think my sister Janet's son goes by Jake, but he's only twelve and lives in California."
"Well, the age is about right. Poor kid's soaked to the skin, so Todd has him sitting by our space heater talking baseball. Kid's a Padres fan, and that's a California team."
"Sounds about right," Patrick frowned. He started to open the car door.
"One more thing, Mr. Chance." As Patrick paused, the guard leaned lower. "I think that kid's hurt. He was limping pretty good before he saw us, and he's got a nasty looking scrape on his cheek. He's also scared."
The two men exchanged looks, then Patrick got out of the car to dash through the rain to the guardhouse. On a stool was Jake, hair plastered close to his head and the scrape an angry red against his pale skin. He looked up at Patrick with big, blue eyes. Scared eyes.
~Flash~
"...so after that, I thought that maybe I'd take a bus back home. But I didn't have enough money, so then I remembered how you usually send me some money for my birthday." Jake paused, face turning red in embarrassment. He was wrapped up in a fluffy blue blanket as a lean African American man worked on cleaning up his knees. A fireplace held a cheerful fire, sending an occasional snap through the room. "I thought that, well, maybe, you could, you know, lend me the rest? I only need eight more dollars." Jake looked up at Patrick, sincerity shining in his eyes. "I promise I'll pay you back. Mrs. Montgomery gives me five bucks to mow her lawn, and I'll send it to you every week until I've made good."
