by Cindy Combs
Simon nodded politely as he held out his hand. "I was just on my way to get an update on that case."
Simon's hand was ignored. Paul Chance glared at him. "I want to know what kind of idiot investigation you're running! My brother has been attacked twice, and you haven't caught anyone yet."
Blinking once, Simon replied, "I understand your frustration, Mr. Chance. We have increased our protection on your brother, and we're dedicating a lot of time and resources to this case."
"Obviously not enough," Paul Chance declared.
"Leave him alone, Uncle Paul. They're doing a fine job."
Simon turned to find Ellison and Jake McCartey stepping out of the conference room. From the New York detective's narrowing eyes, Simon had a bad feeling this wasn't going to be a pleasant reunion.
A suspicion Paul Chance quickly confirmed. He pointedly examined his nephew's casual dress. "Exactly which beach did you drift in from?"
Jake rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms. "The detectives needed some information from me."
"And exactly what could a bum like you tell them?"
Commissioner Mathews smoothly stepped between the uncle and nephew and held out his hand to McCartey. "I'm Commissioner Craig Mathews, and you must be Patrick's nephew, Jason. I am sorry about these attacks. He's a good man."
After another glare at his uncle, McCartey turned to take his hand. "Yes, he is."
"Pat's told me a lot about you. He was pretty worried during 9-11."
"Yeah, I tried to get word to him as soon as I could, but it was a pretty messed up day."
"He understood. And he's very proud of you."
An appreciative smile crossed the younger man's face. "Thanks."
Paul Chance growled, "Patrick's always had a blind spot towards you."
Pezzini had also stepped out of the conference room. She was studying Paul with critical eyes. Simon noted she looked almost as deadly as Ellison when he didn't like someone. "Come on, Jake, let's get something to eat."
Paul turned his glare to her. "Who are you? Jake's bum girlfriend?"
As Jake turned red in embarrassment, the woman only lifted an eyebrow. "Detective Sara Pezzini, Homicide, New York PD. Who are you?"
Paul growled. "Paul Chance."
Sara turned from Paul dismissively to face the woman. "Hello?"
"Julie Warren," the woman replied. "Assistant to Patrick Chance."
Jake offered his hand. "I believe we've talked a couple of times."
Sara nodded sharply as she turned to Jim. "Detective Ellison, aren't these two on your list to be interviewed?"
"Yes, they are," Jim confirmed with a nod. He indicted the hallway behind him that led to the interview rooms. "Please follow me."
"What!" Paul exclaimed.
"I've already given my interview," Jake informed him. "It's your turn now."
As Jim led the way, the two citizens grumbled as they followed. Commissioner Mathews nodded at Jake and Sara. "If you two ever decide to change coasts, let me know. We can always use new investigators."
"Thank you, sir," Jake acknowledged as he shook Mathews' hand again. As he walked away, Jake turned to Simon, Pezzini, and Sandburg. "Now what?" Simon noted that he looked tired.
Apparently, so had his partner. "We really should get something to eat."
"But I'd like to check on Uncle Pat," Jake inserted. "And perhaps look over his home. I may pick up on something you wouldn't notice."
"Go ahead," Simon told them. "Just make sure you check in with us regularly, and call at the first hint of trouble."
Sara nodded. "No problem, Captain."
* * *
Two hours later, Chance Mansion
Jake rolled his window down as he pulled to a stop at guard shack. "Hi, guys."
"Sir, may I see some ID," a young redhead asked.
"Joe, he doesn't need ID." A burly man leaned slightly out the large window, just avoiding the rain pouring off the roof. "Good to see you again, Mr. Jason. Though I wish it was under better circumstances."
Jake nodded. "Thanks, Todd. Me, too." Jake pointed his thumb at Sara in the passenger's seat. "This is my partner, Detective Sara Pezzini. She's with me."
"No problem, Mr. Jason."
"And are we cleared to the house?"
"Yes. And as far as we know, everything's secure." Todd frowned. "Though I could have sworn the same thing before. We still don't know how they got to the house. I'm awfully sorry about that, Mr. Jason. We're going over everything with a fine-tooth comb right now."
Jake nodded. "I know. The police are stumped, too. If you like, I'll take a look tomorrow."
"We'd appreciate that, Mr. Jason. I just hope they catch those monsters soon."
Jake rolled the window up and followed the curving drive. As they approached the main house, Sara crammed her neck to peer out the windshield. "This is the place?" she asked incredulously.
Jake simply concentrated on driving in the rain. "Yeah. It's pretty big for just Uncle Pat, but all the rest of the family moved out as they grew up. I doubt any of them want to take over the cost of upkeep, and Uncle Pat simply says it feels like home."
"Did you ever live here?"
"No, not really. I spent a couple of summers here while Mom was out of the country. Since Mom kinda turned her back on the whole 'accumulation of wealth', I grew up in the suburbs of San Diego. When I wasn't staying at Aunt Bonnie's ranch, that is."
Sara frowned as she detected the emotions rolling in Jake's words. "Do you regret that? Not having money?"
A rueful smile crossed Jake's face as he shook his head. "No. I understand where she's coming from. My cousins are prime examples of too much money and not enough responsibility. And we didn't do too bad, since Mom's a doctor. I just learned that there are more important things."
"That why you turned down the monthly income?"
"No. That's my pride. I'd rather make it on my own than sponge off Uncle Pat."
Sara chuckled. "No easy road?"
"Nope. Too boring."
"Well, our jobs certainly aren't boring."
Jake parked in a private area behind the mansion. Then he and Sara raced through the drizzle to a rear entrance. As Jake paused to cough, Sara shook the moisture off her jacket. "You know, I think I'd prefer snow."
Breathlessly, Jake replied, "It doesn't snow much here. But they always have rain."
Sara glanced around the warmly furnished entryway. While she had visited mansions in New York for cases, she didn't normally enter by the private door. Perhaps that was why it felt more welcoming than the others.
"Mr. Jason!" A young voice declared. Various servants converged on them. Babbling to Jake about how he should have called them, towels magically appeared to soak up the rainwater.
"Are you Mrs. McCartey?" one shy voice asked.
"No!" Sara exclaimed, pulling the towel away from her face. She wanted to squash that thought fast. "I'm his partner."
Seeing the puzzled faces, Jake added, "I'm a police detective in New York. Sara's my partner."
Everyone nodded, though Sara wasn't certain if they believed the explanation.
"Jason!" A large, gray-haired woman breezed through the younger servants as if they weren't there. Sara could see the respect in their faces as they gave way. Age hadn't dimmed the strong personality Sara remembered from her vision.
"Moira!" Jake returned with a huge smile on his face. "I thought you were in Arizona." He gave her a warm hug.
"Now, what good is semi-retirement when your uncle nearly gets himself killed?" she demanded. "I flew back as soon as I heard." Holding the taller man at arms length, Moira frowned. "You don't look very well, either."
Jake gave her a tired smile. "I'm fighting a cold."
"Humph. Probably due to all that freezing weather back East. And who is this young lady?"
Sara found herself pinned by the woman's still fierce eyes. Yet she wasn't bothered by it, probably because she knew that Moira was only looking out for Jake. "I'
m Detective Sara Pezzini, Jake's partner."
Moira nodded. "That's right, Patrick mentioned Jake was working with a female detective. Welcome to the Chance Mansion, Ms. Pezzini."
* * *
Cascade PD Headquarters
Blair looked up from his notes to study Julie Warren. She was a pretty woman, but her smug attitude was a turn off, even for him. "Do you really believe that any of these business competitors would do something to hurt Mr. Chance?" She shrugged a shoulder. "I wouldn't have thought so before, but who else could it be?" Jim tapped his pen against his pad of paper. "Do you know of a connection between any of these people and Jake McCartey?" Confusion filled her face. "You mean Jason? I know Mr. Chance is quite fond of him, but as far as I know, Jason's never shown an interest in the company." "What about outside of work?" Blair asked. "Are they involved in the same organizations? Know the same people?" Julie thought for a moment. "Not really. Even the rest of the Chance family rarely asks about Jason." Blair took a deep breath. They obviously needed a new approach. "Has there been any type of unusual inquiries lately about Mr. Chance or McCartey? Perhaps something out of the ordinary that at the time seemed strange but not harmful?" The assistant thought longer this time. Blair was about to give up when she suddenly nodded. "There was a really strange call just before I left for Japan. Some man said he'd found a cross and wondered if it was Mr. Chance's. I've noticed the cross before -- it's a very handsome, masculine piece. But it's usually under Mr. Chance's clothes, so I couldn't be sure if he had lost it. So I told the caller I'd check. When I asked Mr. Chance, he said very emphatically that it wasn't lost." She paused a moment, puzzled. "He seemed very upset that I would even ask."
Jim and Blair exchanged looks. Jim quickly finished up the interview and guided her out to Rhonda. When he returned, he caught Blair's eyes. "It's that cross."
"But why?" Blair ran his hands through his hair. "It doesn't look important enough to travel cross-country for, let alone kill."
"It's important to someone," Jim replied. "and the worst part?"
Blair looked up. "It's still around McCartey's neck."
"Let's find out where they are, Chief, and back up Pezzini."
* * *
Chance Mansion
Sara followed her partner into the office. The detective immediately corresponded the pictures from the Cascade PD to the room in front of her. While much of the carnage had been removed or righted by the staff, there was still a sense of the physical struggle that had occurred. In addition, there was an aftertaste of a battle of spirits, good versus evil. Could anyone else sense it, or was it something only the wielder of the Witchblade could decipher?
~Flash~
A figure in black knelt on the carpet in front of a tall, hooded figure. Neither paid any attention to the prone man whose blood soaked into the carpet. "It is not here, either, Master."
The hooded figure, in a fit of rage, swiped the desk clean. "He told the truth; he did pass it on. We must find it before the guardianship is complete."
"But where should we look?" The kneeling figure asked, head still bowed.
His master walked over to the pile he created, slowly waving his hand. With a jerk, he grabbed a framed picture from the debris. He sat it on the desk. Jake's smiling face shone from beneath the broken glass. "He has it."
~Flash~
Sara blinked. Who were these nut jobs? She had not sensed such evil since her encounter with 'V' and the doppelganger of her dead father. To make things worse, they'd singled out her rookie partner by a sweep of a hand.
Speaking of which, Jake was being awfully quiet. Sara glanced ahead to see him staring at the faint stain on the carpet. It was the spot where a man who had played a huge role in his childhood had nearly been murdered. Sara closed her eyes in sympathy, then took another step to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Jake?"
"What? Oh, sorry." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I keep thinking how alone he must have been. Wondering how scared he was."
Sara squeezed his shoulder. "He's not alone now. And we'll figure this out."
"Yeah, we will," Jake declared, voice low but determined. He stepped around the stain and looked at the visibly damaged clock sitting on the mantle. "Ah, man, Uncle Pat loves this clock. It was Great-grandmother's."
Sara looked up at the broken face. "Perhaps it can be fixed. I can ask Gabe, see if he knows anyone who can do it."
Jake slowly nodded. "I'd appreciate that."
Sensing he needed some time with his memories, Sara gave his shoulder a final squeeze. "Why don't I give him and Danny a call before it gets too late on the East Coast?"
Jake simply nodded, still staring at the clock. Sara stepped away and out the door to make her calls.
* * *
There were so many memories associated with the clock. The room felt dead without its quiet ticking. Uncle Pat always claimed that it helped him to think. As a child, Jake hadn't understood the need for background noise, but could see his point now.
Gently, he picked it up from its place, making sure to hold the broken face in place. He flipped it over to examine the bottom. During the first summer Jake had spent with his uncle, Pat had shown him a hidden panel to the clock. He swore that it was a secret his grandmother had shown only to him, and now he would pass the secret on to his nephew. Jake smiled as he ran his finger over the door. He remembered the scared, forgotten boy he had been, and how his uncle had made him feel like someone important. The security of Pat's confidence in him had been his foundation in an insecure world.
Pressing his pinky finger lightly on a small knob, his thumb slid open the panel. Jake blinked. There was a folded piece of paper inside. He slipped it out, then pushed the panel back and reverently sat the clock back on the mantle next to a fake ivy plant. Leaning against the stones of the fireplace, Jake opened the paper. It was addressed to him.
Dear Jason,
If you have found this, then I have passed on before I could tell you about the cross around your neck. As you know, it has been in the family for centuries. What you don't know is that it is an important relic that has been entrusted to our family to safeguard. It unlocks a weapon of great might. Evil would love to take it and use it, but it is our family's duty to make sure that it will only be used for good when the time is right.
I know that I sound like I've been dipping too deeply into the scotch, but I have reason to believe it to be true. During my first year of guardianship, someone tried to take it from me. Thankfully, I managed to hide from them until the bond was completed. It is only during that first year that you and the cross are vulnerable. I pray that I've managed to hide the transfer well enough that you've had your time in secret.
Wear it well, my dear nephew. Perhaps it will be needed during your time, though I would not wish upon you whatever horrors would require such a weapon. Or perhaps your duty is only to hold it and pass it onto another who will continue the guardianship. In either case, I know you have the strength and honor to carry out this duty.
Love,
Uncle Pat
Jake's fingers had sought the cross under his shirt. Did he believe in a tale of good, evil and a gold cross? His modern training wanted to dismiss it as a family myth. Yet both his uncle and their mysterious assailant obviously felt the myth was worth dying and killing. After a moment of thought, Jake decided it really didn't matter whether he believed in the story. He believed in Uncle Pat, and his uncle had entrusted him with this task. That was enough for him.
He'd only had it for eight months. If the year transfer was also set in the myth, that meant he had another four months to go before he and the cross were untouchable. Could he keep it safe? It wasn't like he could hide like Uncle Pat -- his work was too important, especially after 9-11. Then again, it might be better to be surrounded by New York's finest. If it hadn't been for Sara, he wouldn't have managed this long. Yet now that he knew the score, perhaps he could handle it better. Deep in thought, he refolded the note and slipped it into h
is jeans pocket.
A noise drew his attention to the door. The large man with the hate-filled eyes was there, wearing all black. Jake felt his own anger rise to the surface. This man had hurt Uncle Pat. Out of habit, Jake's hand reached for his gun, only to remember that it was back in New York. He squashed his anger. The man was between him and the door, and Jake already knew he couldn't overpower the man. He needed a clear head to find a way out.
"You know, all you have to do is toss me the cross," the man told him, taking a step towards him. "I will take it, and you'll never see me again."
Jake noted the large, serrated knife in the man's hands. "You expect me to believe that? You attempted to kill my uncle in the hospital after you knew he no longer had it. Next you'll be trying to sell me the Brooklyn Bridge."
The man took another step forward. "Your uncle was a guardian for several decades. It will always be drawn back to him until it has bonded with the next guardian. His death would prevent that."
"That's supposed to convince me just to hand it over?" Jake replied, slowly shifting his weight. "Sounds to me like the only way to keep my uncle safe is to become the next guardian."
"We will not allow that to happen. Either we get the cross from you, or through you."
"Hmm, let me think," Jake replied sarcastically as his grip on the plastic plant hanging behind him tightened. "I think I'll take door number three." He swung the plant at his assailant. As the man threw up his arms to protect his face, Jake spun towards the glass door overlooking the driveway. He slid open the panel, slipped through to the small balcony, then slid it back with a click of the lock. A shiver shook him a moment as cold rain hit his head and neck. Jake glanced up to spy the fire escape that led to the ground. He jumped up in order to extend it. Glancing down, he spotted two more men in hoods below. He couldn't go down, and the breaking of the glass door signaled time was short. He pulled himself up and started to climb the metal steps to the roof.
