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by
(Posted 08-15-98)
Chapter Eleven
"I don't understand."
She looked down to where he was touching the area where the leg irons cut into her ankles. "Understand what?" She gave a hiss of relief as the pain faded.
"How you are 'dreaming' me."
"I'm not." He turned his head sharply, confusion in the deep blue of his eyes. "In the beginning, I thought that was what was happening. But you are more than a dream. Surely you know that."
"I know much less than anyone thinks," he said ruefully. "All I know is that I am here and although I can see and hear, only you are real to me."
"You know who you are. You know your memories."
"So do you."
She shook her head. "No, not all of them. Just some of the stronger ones. Like your relationship with your family and the men who died in Peru... Dark feelings... painful ones." She placed her hand on his head. "But in the past few years there has come a light."
He wished that particular "light" was around now. Maybe he could make sense of what was going on. "But you summon me and I come. You dismiss me and I go. You are in control of my existence here."
"Then why do you remain while I sleep? I have powers, yes, but so do you. I think maybe they have combined to cause this to occur. Perhaps I needed you so badly that you answered my plea."
"If that were true, then I would use my power to remember and get you out of here before it's too late."
She rested her forehead against his. "It's already too late."
*****
"Sandburg, this is entirely unnecessary," Jim said as they stepped into the elevator at their hotel. "The night's still young. We should be down at the station, debriefing with Rankin and Allen, not going up to our room. But no, you tell them that I've had enough and because they see you as my keeper, they ignore me and do as you say. Tell him, Simon. Tell him we need to get through this so we can get back to Cascade's crime."
"Sorry, Jim," Simon said. His friend had been putting on a good front, but he had noticed as Blair had that Jim had eaten very little. Always a sign of stress in the Sentinel. "I think a good night's sleep is the best thing for all of us. It's been a long, draining day. We aren't used to the heat and the NOPD isn't used to forty-nine bodies floating to the surface of one of their bayous. We can all use a little down time for readjustment."
Jim sighed and leaned back against the wall of the car. It would be futile to argue with both of them. He would show lately achieved maturity and give in gracefully. They were worried about him. He couldn't yell at them for that, could he? Besides, maybe he did need to rest and maybe come to terms with what had occurred that afternoon. He had taken what Alicia had given him and what... raised the dead? Not in the biblical sense, but miraculous in its own way.
"For someone who thinks the night is young, you're asleep on your feet," Simon said, jostling his friend as the elevator doors opened onto their floor. "Put him to bed, Sandburg. And don't let him give you any grief."
"Yes, sir, captain, sir," Blair said with a mock salute. "You heard the man, Jim. I have been given a great power." He rubbed his hands together gleefully.
"Simon, I'm going to remember this when we get back to Cascade," Jim warned as Simon started down the corridor while he and Blair headed the other way. Since the reservations had been last minute, they hadn't been able to get rooms any closer than on the same floor. For safety's sake Jim and Blair always shared a hotel room; one or the other usually needed protecting and/or comforting and Jim just slept better when he could hear Blair's heartbeat. It was a Sentinel/Guide thing that he never examined too closely.
"Threatening a commanding officer? You've been out of the military too long," Simon commented softly, knowing the Sentinel would hear him. "Maybe I should have you drop and give me ten."
"Only if you'll get on the floor with me," Jim called aloud, laughing as he heard Simon's distinct reply.
"I don't think I want to know what that was about," Blair said drolly, only having heard Jim's side of the conversation. "Listen, man, I know you probably aren't ready to talk about what happened, but we really need to go over what we're going to say or at least what we're going to admit to tomorrow."
Jim smiled. His shield was always worrying about how to protect him. Suddenly, he paused in mid-stride. Your shield and staff are written upon your heart. Keep them near... It ain't your back they're aimin' for, baby. It's your heart.
"Jim?" Blair had kept walking and only now realized Jim wasn't with him. He turned to go back.
"Stay where you are, Chief. Simon!" he called to where the captain had already slid his keycard into the slot on the door. "Don't move!"
Because they were conditioned to obeying the Sentinel, both men completely froze, giving Jim enough time to evaluate their situation with his gifts. Sight gave him nothing, so he shut his eyes and allowed his other senses to roam. Smell picked up something. Explosives. He swiveled his head following the scent. When he opened his eyes, he was staring in Simon's direction.
"Simon, back away from the door slowly, then come this way," he called calmly. The Watcher followed orders, not sure of the threat but completely trusting his Sentinel. The Sentinel for his part, watched with relief as the Watcher got farther away from the danger, but still focused his hearing on the door.
Although his head had been splitting when they arrived last night, Jim had forced himself to listen to the electronic lock on the room door so that he would be aware if someone tried to tamper with it. The action of cataloging locks was now as instinctive to the Sentinel as checking the entrances and exits to a given room was to the detective. So it was that he knew the red light went to green when the keycard was inserted and if the card wasn't removed within ten seconds, the sensor would change back to red, and to open the door the process would have to be started over again. Standard security precautions. He also knew that a soft click preceded the change back to red and he now detected the sound behind the Watcher.
"Simon, run!"
Jim felt the explosion in gradual degrees instead of one concussive shock. As he tumbled to the carpeted floor, he made a mental note to share that information with his Guide when they got home. Then esoteric stuff like that flew out of his mind as the main force of the explosion struck. "Sandburg!" he shouted as the debris began settling.
"I'm fine, Jim."
"Simon!"
"I'm right here. Damn, that was close!" The captain sat up and looked down the hall. He couldn't even see where his room was supposed to be. Just then the sprinkler system kicked in and doors opened all along the corridor, spilling panicked people of all ages, sizes, and races. Training took over and they set about restoring order, guiding people to the stairwells and around various sizable obstructions.
"Simon, come help me."
He turned to where Jim was standing at the doorway across from his room... or what was left of it. Simon managed to peek inside as he joined Jim and saw more nighttime New Orleans than he saw room. He shivered and focused on his friend. "What's going on?"
"This door is jammed and there are three people trapped on the other side. Help me kick it in." With the two of them working together, the door had no chance and the three guests were handed off to Blair who escorted them to the stairs. Jim cocked his head to one side and concentrated. "There's no one else on the floor, Simon. Let's get out of here. Emergency personnel should be here by the time we climb down seventeen floors." Simon shook his head sadly. "I know it's bad, captain."
"It could have been worse. No one was killed. But's that not what I'm shaking my head about."
"All clear, Chief," Jim called as Blair jogged toward them. "Guess it's time for us to head downstairs. Oh yeah, Simon was just going to tell me what's really tragic about all this."
"I just want to know why I bother to go out of town with the two of you. It always ends up like this."
"Seems to me we were nowhere around when you took Daryl to Peru," Blair pointed out, pissed that the captain sounded like he was blaming them, and even more than pissed that he was laying something else on Jim's shoulders. As if he didn't know the Sentinel was already feeling guilty. "But we were sure as hell there to save you both."
"So you're saying it's not just the two of you, but me too? Damn. I guess that explains why I went to the bank and ended up getting shot in a hold up." He sighed as they plodded down the emergency stairs. Guess that means I truly belong. "I apologize for what I said. I guess it isn't everyday I just miss getting blown up."
"And why weren't you blown up?" Blair asked pointedly.
"I said I was sorry, Sandburg." Damn kid could make a saint feel guilty. "Thanks, Jim. I really didn't feel like dying tonight."
"Don't thank me," Jim said as he pulled up the rear. "It's because of me someone tried to kill you-- for the second time today."
"The second?" Simon and Blair chorused.
Jim nodded. "Someone deliberately inflamed Edouard Delacroix and sent him after us."
"Someone like who?" Simon asked.
"The Society."
"I was afraid you were going to say that," the captain said, grimacing when he saw they had only reached the tenth floor. The desk job was getting to him. Good thing Jim hadn't challenged him on those push ups. "Well, at least this is something normal, having people after us. Real, live, breathing humans..."
"Who have been murdering kids and drinking their blood since 1948," Blair added.
Simon glared at the figure on the stairs ahead of him. "Did someone ask you anything, Sandburg? Did you hear me say, 'What's your opinion, Sandburg', or 'You got a comment, Sandburg?' No. I didn't say anything like that."
"Just trying to be helpful, captain."
"Sure you are," Simon grumbled.
"Someone is coming up," Jim warned. He listened to the voices several floors below. "It's Rankin and Allen with the bomb squad."
"Well, why don't we just stop here and wait on them?" Simon suggested reasonably.
Jim, having heard his captain's ragged respiration, rolled his eyes. Simon was definitely heading to the gym with him as soon as they got back to Cascade. "They are going to suggest protective custody."
"Yeah. And our response is going to be?" Simon waited for them to decide. Despite what Blair had said, this was standard policework and he had learned to let his team take the lead in such instances.
Jim paced the small landing. "We're safer on our own. The Society has been operating for years without opposition which means they must have friends in high and important places. We're already at a disadvantage because this is not our playing field. Let's not give them another edge by becoming sitting ducks."
"Then we will just have to refuse the NOPD's generous invitation," Simon said.
"And what invitation is that?" Mike Rankin asked as his party reached them.
"The offer of a safe house for the night."
"So the bomb was directed at the three of you," Mike said, glancing at his partner. "We heard the call just as we were getting out of the car at the station. As soon as they named your hotel, we figured this had something to do with... this case."
Jim folded his arms and looked at him frostily. "Spit it out, Rankin. You're going to have to say it eventually."
The man closed his eyes and muttered a few choice words before replying. "Okay, fine. When I heard a bomb had gone off in your hotel, I immediately knew the... the Society was involved. La Societe de Sang exists, damn it, and they've been killing little girls for years. The police thought that they were a joke. I thought they were a joke. We were all wrong and many have suffered because of it. There. I've admitted it. Is that enough for you, Det. Ellison?"
Jim raised a disdainful eyebrow. "It's a start."
Chapter Twelve
"Why is it that I arrive now only after they have gone?" he asked as he soothed away her latest abuse. "Do they attack earlier, I go to bed later, or is this deliberate?"
She shrugged. "You come when you come."
"No, I come when you call me," he corrected. "If I was here when they... when they did this to you, I could ease the pain immediately. But you delay. Why?" She dropped her head and turned away. "You feel ashamed because of what they do to you?" he guessed. "The only shame belongs to them, chere."
"You did not see the look in your eyes the first night I brought you here," she said softly, a sob just below the words.
He felt sick and angry at himself. That night had shocked him so, he didn't remember what he had felt or expressed. But he knew without a doubt that whatever had shown on his face had not been directed at her. "If you saw disgust, it was not toward you. If you saw anger, I felt none for you. The sight sickened me, but you didn't. I would never think less of you because of what you have suffered. Please don't hide from me, Lici. I need to be there for you. I need to help you. Don't let some misunderstanding keep us apart when we need to be together."
"Nous avons besoin l'un de l'autre."
"That's right. We need each other, Alicia. Don't let my stupidity mess that up."
Her dark eyes turned to face him, luminous as they reflected the light of the full moon angled just outside the window. "Mais non. Not your stupidity, but your compassion. It was the pain I didn't want you to go through again. Do you know that every time the whip fell, you shuddered? That every time one of them laid their hand on me, you flinched? You wrapped yourself into a ball in the corner and you felt everything that was happening to me. I will not allow that to happen again."
His frustration grew. "You are not supposed to protect me." She had suffered needlessly to ease his pain. What kind of man was so weak as to let a child suffer because he revealed too much of himself. "I'm sorry. I let you down. You conjure up some great protector and you end up protecting me... Why do you even bother to call me at all?" he said dejectedly.
"We are a matched pair of martyrs, n'est-ce pas?" She sighed and lay her head against his chest. "Morning is coming. Time for you to go back to living and me to go back to waiting."
"For them?" And your private hell?
"No. For you." And a glimpse of heaven.
*****
"What the hell did you do?"
"I arranged for one of them to be killed."
"You blew up a hotel! I told you I was working on something."
"I grew impatient."
"Great. You grew impatient. Now the ATF has been called in. We can't jerk them around like we do the locals. And all three men are still alive. The others are worried. Some are thinking about throwing themselves on the mercy of the court."
"And making me the fallguy, no doubt. I need to meet with them. Have you at least managed to arrange that?"
"Oh, they are eager to meet. Tomorrow, at the sacred site."
"That could be awkward."
"It's the only place they feel safe." From you.
"The usual time?"
"Yes."
"You will be there, of course?"
"Of course."
"And you'll take care of this other matter?"
"I'll do my best."
*****
Simon Banks lay in the double bed and wondered what the hell was going on. They had checked into this hotel out near the airport instead of downtown New Orleans. Jim had demanded one room, insisting that they all had to be together. Simon had agreed because he saw the logic in it and because he realized Jim was in no mood to argue. Besides, he had no problem with the arrangement as long as it was Jim sharing the bed with Sandburg and not him; the kid probably kicked in his sleep. So he had gone to sleep in his own bed and everyone else was tucked in too, at least they had been when he drifted off. But apparently Jim had awakened and was now... doing what?
"Sandburg, you awake?" he whispered.
"Uh huh."
"What's going on?"
"I have no idea." Neither of them being in possession of Sentinel sight, they could only see that Jim was moving about the dark room, talking to himself-- or maybe not; with Jim, who could tell? "He was sleeping normally for a while, then he suddenly jerked awake," he said, keeping his voice low. "Scared me to death. That's why I know he's not Jim anymore. My heart was racing and he never said a word to me."
"What do you mean he's not Jim anymore?" Simon sat completely up in his bed and turned to glare at Blair, which meant nothing in the dark. "What have you been hiding from me?"
Blair watched Jim for a second, noticing he wasn't paying any attention to their conversation. "In Baltimore, Jim was sort of... possessed. Not in a bad way. It was just that the little boy took over Jim-- really, really briefly, Simon. But Jim's eyes turned brown, just like the murdered kid's. He was inside Jim."
"Shit, Blair!"His voice didn't get any louder but the vehemence was evident. "You're saying these 'things', have the ability to take over my detective. On a need-to-know basis, I think I needed to know!"
"It happened once, maybe twice."
"That's the way it always starts with him, Sandburg." He quieted, knowing his whining about being left out of the loop was doing no good at the moment. But as soon as they got back to Cascade, they were going to have a long talk about keeping secrets from their Watcher. "So you don't think this is him?"
"Look at how he moves, Simon. I think he's a woman. Watch the sway of his hips, the way his hands are moving."
Simon rolled his eyes. Only Sandburg would notice in a dark room that a decidedly non-female form in boxers was moving like a female. "Alicia Delacroix?" he guessed.
"Someone older. Alicia hadn't 'bloomed' that much."
The expert speaks. "One of the others, perhaps? They were generally the same age, but some girls mature faster than others."
"I'm guessing he's someone older. This is New Orleans; he has his choice of ghosts, you know."
"If I curl up into a fetal position and pull the covers over my head, what would it take for you not to tell the guys back in Cascade?" Simon asked fatalistically.
Blair grinned. Nice to know they could still joke under the circumstances. "You don't have enough collateral for that, Simon. Shhh. He's moving this way."
Jim sat on the bed, then lay down and pulled the sheet up. "Think he'll remember any of this in the morning?" Simon asked as he prepared to go back to sleep.
"He remembers it now," Jim replied, laughing silently as both men jumped. "I'll explain in the morning, gentlemen. Now, I seem to recall someone saying something about us needing our rest. Whoever it was, was right. Nighty-night. Don't let the bedbugs bite," he recited with a chuckle.
"It's not the damn bugs I'm worried about," Simon muttered, adjusting his pillow for what he suspected would be a long, restless night.
*****
"So I take it this means you're not going home tonight?" Joey Allen asked as he looked at the stack of files on his partner's desk.
"These are all the cases that I know of in which the Society was mentioned," Mike explained, throwing a distracted hand toward the stack.
"Are you planning on being obsessive about this, Mike?" Joey asked he picked up one of the files. 1978. Swell. He had been four.
Mike sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. "I've always prided myself on being a good cop. No matter whatever cops got caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jars and D.A. stings, no matter what the local or national press said about the NOPD, I knew I wasn't involved. I knew I was clean. But if the Society exists, then I've been involved in a cover up since I joined the force. I was used, Joey, as sure as those ladies on Bourbon Street. But, hell, at least they know what they're getting into. Me? I feel like a virgin who just had her cherry plucked."
"You said 'if the Society exists.' You still having doubts?"
He shook his head. "How can I? Someone tried to kill those cops from Washington and there can be only one reason for that. No, Joey. The 'if' is just out of habit. I know that there is a Society of Blood. I know they have been perpetuating crimes in my city right under my nose. And I know I'm either going to bring them down or die trying."
Joey looked at his partner, saw the determination in his eyes, and realized that the Society had made an enemy for life and if for some reason Ellison failed to eradicate them, or they got rid of Ellison and his associates, they still wouldn't be safe. Mike would get them. And he wouldn't do it alone. "Mind if I take the later cases? Makes me squeamish to work the ones that happened before I was born," he commented as he slipped his jacket onto the back of his chair.
"What'cha doing, Joey? This is my obsession, not yours."
"Partners, Mike. Just following your lead like you taught me."
Mike caught his wrist as he reached for a bunch of the folders. "This could destroy us," he warned. "I'm really close to my twenty years but you're just starting out. My advice to you is to stay away from it, okay?"
Joey nodded. "Okay, Mike. Message received. Now let me have that file you're reading. At least I was a teen in the eighties."
Chapter Thirteen
"Tell me about Blair."
"Why? You *know* all my strong emotions."
"That's why I know how much you care for him, but that does not tell me about the man."
"What do you want to know?" he asked grudgingly, not because he hoarded his memories of Blair but because he was getting anxious about Alicia's situation. The child had lost considerable weight in the few days she'd been held captive. Thanks to his healing abilities none of her wounds were infected, but the nearly tropical bayou teemed with assorted bacteria, viruses, and parasites. From Alicia's slightly elevated temperature and a minor hitch in her breathing, he feared one of the microbes had made its way into her system. Even if he managed to convince her to let him contact the authorities, she could die before she was found.
"What does he look like?" An image formed in their shared thoughts and she gasped. "An angel."
He nodded. The long dark curls did remind him of Raphael's creations. "My take on him may be a bit biased," he reminded her. "But I think there are several ladies out there who would agree at my depiction of Blair."
"He is very beautiful."
"On the inside too," he volunteered. "A soul that rivals his corporeal beauty. That's his main attraction in my book."
"Not that he helps you?"
"Now that he has shown me the way, anyone could help me with my gifts if that's what you're referring to. But they couldn't be my Guide because Blair takes care of the total me, my soul-- what little I had left until he arrived-- included. I had holes inside and he patched them up." He sighed, trying to put his past into words. "I had these tiny cracks in me, like a piece of fine china that had been mishandled but was on display anyway. Up on the shelf, I looked fine but if I was touched, I would shatter. That's why I warned people off, my wife included. But Blair Sandburg just waltzed in and reached up for me, ignoring the warning signs. I thought I would be a goner, that as soon as his fingers closed around me, there would be so many pieces of me laying around that even a dustbuster would be hard pressed to suck up all my fragments."
"But you're here and whole."
"That's because his touch was so gentle. Things shifted but they stayed together long enough for him to apply his special 'glue'. You say I'm whole; I say I'm getting there. Maybe. Anyway, I don't fear shattering anymore. And if a piece does break off now and again, I know that Blair will be there to put it back in place."
"He is a part of you."
"He is the best part of me." He felt a tear fall on his hand. "I have made you sad?"
"Non. I share in your happiness. There was a time I wished for a friend like that, a brother or sister who was that much a part of me. But I realized that it wouldn't be fair to get so close to a person, only to have to leave them."
"What isn't fair is that you've had the burden of knowing your fate and not being able to change it. You shunned friendship and sacrificed other pleasures because you could 'see'. How can you continue to call this a gift and not a curse?"
"If you could have 'seen' the accident in Peru, you would have changed it?"
"Of course."
"But what if you had also foreseen your future with Blair, a future that would not have occurred without the incident in Peru. The helicopter crash in one hand; your Guide in the other. What would be your choice, Sentinel?" His jaw clamped shut, the muscles in the arms surrounding her cording as they grew taut. "Sometimes not having a choice is a good thing, mon ami. Sometimes we must give ourselves up to fate for our own good."
"And it is for your good that you must die?"
"It is for everyone's good."
*****
"And that's the whole story," Jim said and took the last bite of his Egg McMuffin.
"So you're saying Alicia sent this woman's spirit to you?" Blair asked for clarification as he opened his orange juice. It if wasn't for the coffee and the juice, he guessed he would have starved. Apparently the day began with grease in the South-- fried eggs, fried sausage, fried bacon... It was a wonder every cardiologist in the country hadn't migrated south yet.
"I guess you could say she's been soliciting the other side on our behalf." Jim reached in the bag for the remaining hashbrown and found only an empty container. Using his Sentinel sight, he spied the crumbs hanging on Simon's chin. No wonder the captain had been suspiciously quiet as he told his tale. "The Society scares her, so she sent Felicity to bind us in a protective circle."
"You mean you," Simon said, glancing in the mirror before changing lanes. Their exit was approaching.
"I mean us, captain. Whose room went boom? Yours."
"But I figured they just got the rooms confused because I made both reservations," Simon said with a frown. "Why in the hell would they want to get rid of me? I'm just as lost as anyone."
"They know what Brooks Quinlan knew, sir," Jim said softly.
Brooks Quinlan had wanted to destroy Jim because the detective had killed his criminal son. He had tried everything from torture to frame ups to decimate the cop, to crush him without killing him because dying was much too easy. But everything he inflicted upon Jim, Jim had endured because Blair and Simon were always there. So Quinlan had decided to kill Blair and Simon to get back at Jim. That had been his last decision.
"You're both important to the Sentinel, and to me. Without you, I'm handicapped," he admitted reluctantly. "How the hell I went from needing no one to needing two people, I don't know."
"Well, I don't think this is the time to be questioning it," Blair said sensibly, not wanting the older men to become uncomfortable with each other with danger looming nearby. They had both been raised to believe men didn't need anybody-- other than the occasional woman and a son to carry on their name. "So this binding spell was done with the herbs you bought yesterday morning?"
Jim nodded. "I went along with it just because of Alicia, but I didn't even consider allowing her to do the spell until Simon's room exploded."
"And you just let her take over your body?"
"Alicia sent her, Chief. I knew it was safe."
Blair picked up the notebook he'd been scribbling in. "What about the headache this time? I noticed it didn't affect your stomach like it has in the past."
"There was no headache, Chief. I don't know why."
"I think I do." Jim turned his head toward the backseat. "You didn't fight Felicity because Alicia sent her. You allowed her access and didn't trigger any defenses. Maybe it's not the ghosts causing the pain, but you, Jim," Blair explained excitedly.
"So if I just give in and let them have their way with me, I won't have any pain?" Jim asked, condensing his partner's words. "I'm sorry, Chief. That's like rolling over and letting someone rape me. No way. I may get raped anyway, but damn it, someone's going to have bruises somewhere."
Blair reached out to squeeze his partner's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jim. It was just a theory."
"I'm sorry too, Chief, but that's one theory that's going to go untested." A shudder went through him as he remembered Alicia up on that altar. Rape was an invasion on the most personal level. She had taken it because she believed she was supposed to. He would never believe that deeply.
"I hear you loud and clear, Jim."
"Well, since that's cleared up, maybe the two of you would like to help me find a parking space," Simon groused in order to keep Jim from remembering too long. "Even with a visitor's permit, there's not a lot of spaces."
Ten minutes later, as they stood at the front desk waiting patiently for their visitor's I.D.'s they noticed a certain silence had fallen in their general vicinity. The desk sergeant nervously handed them the clip-on badges and buzzed them in through the security gate. The main bullpen then fell into a strange hush. Blair got mad on his partner's behalf.
"Are you a betting man, Jim?" he asked in a loud whisper.
Simon groaned as he heard the tone of Blair's voice. The man was up to no good. And apparently his partner was going to abet him. "I've been known to take a chance or two," Jim said in the same mock whisper. "What you got?"
"Well, I was wondering if our presence was stimulating this reaction because of the bayou incident. Or is it because we almost blew up last night? Or is it because we dare named the Society of Blood as the culprits?"
Jim scratched his head dumbly. "Gee, Chief, that's a tough call. What do you think, captain?"
Don't drag me into this... Oh, what the hell. "I think all the attention is because," Simon crooked his finger so that both men leaned toward him, "we're so darn cute."
"I'm flattered," Jim replied. "But I hope they know we don't do pin-ups."
"I don't know about that, guys," Blair said quickly. "Depends on where they put the staple." They looked at each other and laughed as they headed toward the detective area.
One look at Rankin and Allen and it was obvious neither had gone home. "Something happen since we last saw you?" Simon asked anxiously, all kidding aside now.
"Other than the fact that I now completely believe in the existence of the Society and have pledged on the body of every one of those little girls that I will get the people responsible? Nah," Mike said irritatedly.
"Good. Because we have enough to deal with," Simon declared. "What are all these files on your desk?"
"Cases that the Society may have been involved in. I thought there could be a clue or two in them somewhere to the identities of these people, where they meet, something," Mike explained tiredly.
Simon nodded. "Good idea. While you and Allen go home and get yourselves together, we'll go through them. Find yourself a chair, Sandburg."
"Just a minute, captain," Mike protested.
"Rankin, how many fingers am I holding up?" He held up his right index.
"Umm, eight?" Mike guessed. "Maybe a few hours rest is called for. Come on, partner. Our relief shift is here."
"'Bout time," Joey murmured and grabbed his jacket. Then with bloodshot eyes he looked at the three of them. "Thanks, guys. I couldn't get him to leave and I couldn't leave without him."
Blair smiled. "I know the feeling, man. A nap and a shower, in any order, will do wonders. Believe me."
"You sound as if you're an expert," Joey said with admiration.
"Goes with the territory, Joey." He looked at his two companions who had already settled into the chairs vacated by the detectives and were methodically going through the files. "Cops all over, good cops anyway, are just the same. You'll get used to it. I have." With that he snagged a chair from someone else's desk and chose a stack of files for himself.
Chapter Fourteen
"Alicia, I need you to do something for me."
"Anything."
"Hit me."
"Why?"
"No questions, please. Just do it." She tapped him gently on the arm. He frowned. "No, hit me like you mean it. Hit me as if I was the one who whipped you or touched you in the wrong places or kidnapped you... or the one who slapped you and caused that bruise on your cheek."
"Arrete! Stop it, Jim! Don't do this!"
"Don't do what, Alicia? Allow you to be angry? Give you a safe outlet for your anger?"
"I am not angry," she whispered harshly.
"Of course you're not. Saints don't get angry. They have no emotions at all."
"I am not a saint."
"Then let it out, Lici. It's inside you and it needs to be released. If you fight them, they'll only hurt you worse. But if you fight me, I won't fight back. Please. Lici, just try. I'm big enough to take it."
She kicked him on the shin then stepped back, ashamed at herself. He smiled. She balled up her fist and slugged him in the chest. That felt so good she did it again. And finally, the dam burst. All her pent up anger, frustrations, fears, just poured out of her and into her extremities. She kicked him, shoved him, beat him, and cursed him until her emotions were spent and she started to collapse to the floor. He reached out and caught her up in his arms, wishing he could carry her out of the cabin and to safety. But the chains held her fast and he was helpless against them, so he settled on the bed and gently rocked her as she sobbed.
Finally, he thought, as she drifted off to sleep. Finally, he had found a way to help her.
*****
"Hello, detectives."
Blair and Simon looked up to see Edouard Delacroix standing next to the desks they had shanghaied. "Mr. Delacroix," Simon said, extending his hand. "I'd just like to say again how sorry we are about your loss."
"Non. It was you and l'ange who brought her back to me. Do you know when she will be released? I have to make the arrangements."
"I'm sure Detectives Allen and Rankin can get that information for you when they return."
Edouard looked around anxiously. "What happened last night was all over the news. They said none of you were harmed, but where is the other? Nothing has happened to him?"
"I'm fine, Edouard," Jim said, coming in with three coffees. An old file, covered with dust, had sent him into a sneezing frenzy and he'd gone out into the hall to recover. As soon as he stopped sneezing, he'd smelled the coffee and figured all three of them could use the caffeine. "What are you doing here?"
"Paying a ridiculously large fine for yesterday's occurrence. The judge was a low-born man and could not understand my grief."
Jim ignored the arrogance in the statement. "And how is your grief today? And your wife's?"
Edouard shrugged. "Once I saw my Lici in the coroner's office, something in my heart closed down. I do not feel any longer. As for my wife, I fear she feels too much. I worry for her. She has locked herself in her rooms and refuses to let me comfort her. At least she talks to her friends on the phone."
Jim turned his head toward the hallway and a second later, Mike and Joey appeared. "Perhaps you can get answers to your questions now," Simon said.
"Thank you, yes," Edouard said politely and stepped over to the pair.
"I get the feeling race doesn't mean a thing here," Simon said. "It's all money."
"No," Blair said. "It's family. Definitely a city where who-you-are matters more than anything else. Even if you're rich, you have to have a pedigree to be accepted by society here."
"Got to have your papers like a pet poodle, huh?" Simon commented.
"Wonder if that's required by the Society of Blood as well?" Blair questioned eagerly. "Maybe you have to 'belong' before you can join? That would explain how they've gotten away with what they have for so long."
"Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase 'dog-eat-dog' world, doesn't it?" Simon said dryly.
"Find anything interesting?" Mike asked as he and Joey approached. The few hours of rest had made him a new man.
Jim shrugged. "There are several pieces of evidence we'd like access to," he requested politely. He didn't like being on someone else's turf, having to ask permission for each and every little thing, but he knew how to play the game.
"You didn't have to wait for us, man," Mike said. "The commissioner and the captain have basically given you the key to the department. There's a memo on the main board which basically gives you guys the authority to do whatever you want. Just ask and ye shall receive."
"Well, that's sporting of you," Simon said, suspicious of the "open door" policy. Not something that would have happened in Cascade. Not under his command anyway.
"This case hit everyone hard, Captain Banks," Joey explained. "The death of children is just as ugly to the guy on the street as it is to the man in the Governor's Mansion."
"Even if it involves the Society?" Blair asked meaningfully.
"Especially if it involves the Society," Mike said dryly. "The NOPD has had a lot of bad press lately, most of it warranted unfortunately. Seems our men in blue have been selling themselves to the highest bidder. So we don't want the national press and the feds coming down here wondering who we've sold ourselves to this time. So our fear is your gain."
"Fair enough," Jim said. "You got that list, Sandburg?"
"Right here, Jim." He tore a sheet of paper out of a notebook and both disappeared as Mike pointed them in the direction of the evidence room. "Are they going to need lab space, captain?"
Simon barely heard the question. He was still pondering the fact that Blair had a list of what evidence Jim needed. Considering the fact that he had sat with them all morning and had never heard anything about evidence said between the two of them, how had Sandburg known that Jim wanted any evidence at all? He suddenly wondered if straightjackets were one-size-fits-all. "Uh, just a private room will be okay."
"I wonder what they think they can find that our forensics staff couldn't?" Joey asked idly.
"Since Sandburg is not a cop but a consultant to their department, he's probably a forensics expert or something. Right, Captain Banks?" Mike inquired. The faxes on the trio had come in late last night. Ellison and Sandburg's closure rate was phenomenal.
"Jim and Blair have a unique approach to forensics," he said obliquely. "So, do you have any news about the explosion last night?"
While Simon was being handed the reports on the bombing, Blair and Jim set up once again in the interrogation room. "Okay, Jim, in ten of these crimes, soil samples were found that were inconsistent with the crime scenes. We need to see if the samples came from the same area."
Jim nodded. "That would give us a connection between the crimes. If I figure out where they were holding Alicia, link that to the samples, then we would have hard evidence of a Society connection." He eyed the row of plastic bags. "Where do we start? And if you say with taste, I'm going to tell Simon what happened to the cigars he thought he had brought with him." Blair looked at him wide-eyed. "Don't give me that innocent look. Think I can't detect Simon's choice of tobacco and its smell on you?"
Blair muttered something about living with a bloodhound, then crossed his arms defiantly. "It's not only a filthy habit but it's also bad for his health. The Guide is supposed to look out for the Watcher as well as the Sentinel."
"Uh huh. And that's why the Sentinel has to look out for the Guide's butt too. Try asking him to leave them behind next time."
Blair rolled his eyes, knowing how much good that would do. "Why don't we let that damn sense of smell of yours do something important? Let's see what we can find out about this soil."
By the time Joey Allen came to check on them a couple of hours later, they had gone through the soil samples and were working on traces of feathers that had been discovered on or around several bodies. "So if they sacrificed the young virgins for their power, why did they kill these people?" he asked. Most of the victims were known prostitutes, both male and female.
Jim shrugged. "For practice and for play. Maybe there's something sexual in killing a prostitute. Hell, for all we know, it could be better than Viagra."
"Could be the reason for the feathers then?" Joey guessed.
"No, the feathers belong on the masks they use."
"Well, that's going to be a dead end. Those masks are standard Mardi Gras fare and the tourists love them. Can find them all over the city any time of the year."
"Mardi Gras must be a policeman's nightmare," Blair said, having attended one memorable Mardi Gras. For someone who reveled in spontaneity, the annual celebration had been a bit much even for him. Of course, he had come to that conclusion several weeks after the fact. That was how long it had taken him to recover from the experience.
"It's bad enough we have all those people," Joey agreed. "But then these people are masked so identification is a bitch."
Jim lost the rest of Joey's words as an image formed in his mind. Something about a particular mask...
She had been stripped bare and laid upon the altar, her arms chained above her head, her legs spread-eagled in preparation. The stench of raw, unfettered sex hung heavy in the humid, stagnant air, a massive orgy having just ended before the sacrifice du jour had been brought forth. A pounding percussion beat thrummed in the background and he searched the compound looking for the musician, but the music seemed to be coming from all around.
Small fires were lit around the altar and in this light a man danced, his oiled skin reflecting the golden flames. He was naked except for the elaborate mask covering his face and it was obvious the musky scent of sex called to him. In order to enhance the featured attraction, he apparently had been denied during the earlier festivities or else the music gave him astonishing recuperative abilities or maybe, Jim burned with a fury as he considered this, maybe the man was thinking of the little girl that lay stretched before him as he grew erect.
The dancer paused before one of his cohorts. With her breasts jutting out enticingly beneath the flowing robe, her sex was as obvious as his although a mask of long, tapered white feathers covered her features. He bowed his head before her as in obeisance and she favored him with several strokes of her fingers. Then she led him to the altar. Alicia had looked at the pair and for once she wasn't able to hide the fear. "Non, si'l vous plait! I beg of you, Mama, please!"
"Jim!" Blair shook the figure frozen before him. What the hell had caused Jim to zone? "Go get Captain Banks, Joey!" he commanded, not only wanting Simon but also wanting to get the cop out of the room.
He looked at what was crushed in Jim's hand. One of the feathers. "Jim, come on, man. It's time to come back from wherever that thing has taken you. You know the way, Jim. Just follow my voice." Jim shuddered beneath his hand. "That's it, man. Come on back."
"I'm here, Sandburg," Jim said shakily. "For better or worse, I'm here."
"What happened, man? You zone on the feather?" He led Jim to a chair as he talked, noting his partner was paler than he should have been. "I should have been watching closer but Joey started talking about Mardi Gras and I started remembering--"
"I started remembering too," Jim said and from the ridge that formed along his jaw, Blair realized the memories weren't good ones.
"What is it, Jim? What do you remember?"
Jim stared off into space unblinkingly. "I remembered who killed Alicia."
Chapter Fifteen
"Do you like yourself?"
Not a question he was used to being asked. "Most of the time."
"Most?"
He looked at her arm spread limply across his. Hell, with his tan he was darker than she was. "According to my friends I do guilt really well. That sort of accounts for my occasional bouts of self-loathing."
"Guilt is a useless emotion."
"So I've been told."
She shifted uneasily. "But sometimes it can't be helped. And at other times, maybe it is deserved."
"That's a fact," he agreed, wondering what was her point. "You feeling guilty about something?"
She leaned back against him. "My use of you. You have your own destiny to fulfill, with pains and sorrows of your own. You don't need mine."
"I don't want to get into this argument again," he said with gentle force and she quieted... much too easily. "You and I both know any guilt of that nature goes into the useless category. But I sense this is about more than just our relationship. Perhaps there is some guilt that you think is deserved?"
She paused, gnawing on her bottom lip, not used to having someone to talk to, to unburden her soul to. "You believe the sins of the father can be revisited upon the son?"
"Yes." Hadn't he almost ended up like his father? Angry, divorced, alone. If it hadn't been for Blair...
"Then is it not the child's duty to repent for the sins of the parent?"
He thought back through the actions of his life. Had he been unwittingly repenting for the sins of his father? Had he become a cop because his father always took and never gave back? Did he risk his life for strangers because William Ellison had never given a damn about anyone but himself? "I don't know," he finally replied. "I want to say no, that we are not responsible for the actions of another and therefore should not have to answer for his or her transgressions. But how can I tell you that when I find *myself* atoning for offenses that are not my own?"
She turned her head upward and kissed him on the chin. "It is nice to be understood."
*****
"The matter can be resolved to our satisfaction as long as we keep our heads."
"I agree and so do the others. We will meet tonight and determine our course of action as a whole. I think I should warn you that many disapprove of you having something done on your own."
"While we waited for a committee to decide our action, these men were uncovering our secrets. Besides, when did this become a democracy?"
"You are our head as always."
"I share the power with you."
"Yes, you do. But our power has been weakened by the loss of the sacrifice."
"But her power continues and now we know where it resides. Tell them not to fear or give up. We shall get it back. After all, he is one and we are many."
And that is the arrogance that scares us all. "Will there be a problem getting out of the house tonight? Because of the circumstances, you are under more scrutiny than we are."
"Deception is easy when one lives with a fool."
"Very well. Until tonight?"
"Until tonight."
*****
"Captain, I think Ellison is having another experience!" Joey whispered urgently in Simon's ear. "Sandburg sent me out to get you."
"Damn," Simon muttered, moving quickly out of his chair and toward the interrogation room. His glare at the trailing detectives left them standing outside the door as he slammed it shut. He glanced quickly at his two men, noting that Jim seemed a little shaken but okay. "What happened?" he barked nervously.
"Jim--" Blair began.
"Not here," Jim interrupted quickly. "We need to get out of here, Simon," he implored, nodding toward the large mirror at the end of the room. At the moment no one was on the other side listening in, but Simon's hurried entry could alert someone that something major was happening.
Simon gave a jerking nod. He opened the door and ushered them through it, saying something about low blood sugar and the need for food. Before Mike and Joey could react, the three men were gone.
"Low blood sugar?" Joey questioned disbelievingly.
"Yeah, right," was Mike's assenting reply.
Instead of heading toward the car, Simon led his men down the street and around a corner. He finally stopped at a gate leading to a private courtyard. Surprising Jim and Blair, he pulled out a ring of keys and opened the gate. Although Jim trusted his captain, he hesitated before going in.
"It's okay, Jim. Last night as we were leaving, T'Dette handed me these keys, whispered an address, and said if we ever needed a secure meeting place to come here," he explained. "For some reason, I didn't bother to ask her how she knew we would need a place like this. I guess I'm learning, huh?"
"More than you ever wanted to," Jim muttered, knowing Simon had gotten a lot more than he bargained for when he got entangled with the Sentinel and Guide.
"I'm surviving it better than you," Simon observed dryly. He looked around the small garden approvingly. Lush evergreen plants vied for attention with flowers of assorted sizes and colors. Dark green wrought iron patio furniture completed the setting. There were three doors leading into the building behind, but a quick shake of Jim's head told him no one was nearby. "What happened in the interrogation room? Someone come for a visit or did you zone?"
"Neither," Jim said, his jaw quivering angrily as the memories returned in full color. "I remembered more, Simon. I know who killed Alicia."
Simon pushed his glasses up in order to see his detective more clearly. "You were able to recognize one of the members of the Society? I thought they were all masked?" he asked, puzzled but hopeful as well. Maybe this whole "adventure" was about over.
"Even if Daryl were masked, you could recognize your son, couldn't you, sir?"
"I suppose." Maybe not in a full mask, the boy was at the age where he changed daily, but the feathered ones he'd seen in New Orleans mainly covered only the eyes.
"And, Chief, you could recognize me, couldn't you?"
"In a heartbeat," Blair said easily. "Oops, I think that's supposed to be your line. But yeah, I'd know you anywhere, big guy. What's your point?"
"Alicia was able to recognize her killer. A family member."
"Not Edouard?" Blair questioned hesitantly. The man had seemed so sincere when he had collapsed in the interrogation room.
"No. Helaire."
"Her mother?" Blair's mouth dropped open and Simon stiffly eased into one of the wrought iron chairs as if he were an old man and getting older by the minute. "Alicia's mom is a member of the Society?" Blair asked bewilderedly.
"She's the leader, the what did you call it, yes, the mambo; High Priestess of the Society of Blood," Jim said with a sneer.
"Jim, are you sure of this?" Simon asked quietly.
"Alicia begged her mother not to order her raped. I guess with Helaire herself holding the stone dagger that ripped into her heart, Lici sort of figured it was useless to beg her for her life," Jim said, only those who knew him well noticing the faint trembling in his voice.
"How could she do such a thing?" Simon asked. Just the thought of even causing a scratch on Daryl made him ill. "She was the murderer? She actually killed her own child?" Jim nodded.
"But that means she's the one who had her kidnapped, and tortured, and she watched her daughter being raped..." Blair mumbled in confusion.
The woman's eyes met her daughter's without a flinch. Without a word, she cupped the man's buttocks and urged him toward the child and Alicia shut her eyes and turned away. He told her to keep them closed and to focus only on his voice. Her hands kept a tight grip on his as he sang her that song again, the one she now called the "hope" song. He kept his voice true, faltering only once when she cried out involuntarily as her rapist tore into her flesh. He looked up then and that was when he saw it, the smile gracing Helaire Delacroix's face.
"She not only watched, but she smiled, Chief. She stood right there and smiled in pure satisfaction." His knuckles cracked against the brick wall surrounding the courtyard.
"This is all well and good," Simon said, as he came to terms with the evil he continued to see during his tenure as a cop. Just when you thought it couldn't get worse, it did. "But what are we going to do about it?"
"You mean other than my original thought of going to her home and strangling the bitch?" Jim asked menacingly.
Simon nodded. "Yeah, other than that, Jim. We're going to need concrete evidence like the hows and whys, the other members who can provide less mystical eyewitness accounts, not to mention the murder weapon itself."
"I read a news account that said Helaire Delacroix was from a well-known family herself. Maybe a research of her background could provide some clues. Wasn't there a public library near our first hotel, next to the government buildings?" Blair asked.
"Not a bad idea, Chief, but I was thinking of something more direct-- like staking out her house and seeing what these senses of mine can pick up. Edouard said she was in phone contact with her friends. Maybe she's talking to the other Society members," Jim guessed.
Simon sighed. Jim's suggestion smacked of something illegal but since nothing of an electronic nature would be used to tap into Helaire's private conversations... "Both ideas have merit. Sandburg, you go to the library. I'll ride shotgun with your partner and make sure he doesn't lose himself in his work."
"I don't like the idea of us separating," Jim said hesitantly.
"I thought your friend had us bound in some kind of protective circle," Simon reminded him.
"As if you believe," Blair said with a snort.
"Weren't you the one who said it didn't matter whether we believed, Sandburg, as long as those who actually practiced the belief did? Well, our enemies are with the Society. I think that probably qualifies them as believers," Simon pointed out.
"Your circular logic skills are improving, sir," Blair said approvingly.
"Yeah, I had a real good teacher." He shot a smile in Blair's direction before turning to his detective. "What do you say, Jim?"
Jim reached around his neck and pulled a small cord over his head. Attached to the cord was a small fabric pouch. With a few soft words, he transferred the amulet to his partner.
"This is a gris-gris, right, Jim?" Blair said excitedly and, noticing Simon's confusion, continued. "It's a sort of charm bag, Simon, to ward off bad luck and spirits. Man, I hadn't even noticed you were wearing one of these."
"Felicity made it last night," Jim admitted. "I want you to wear it outside your shirt. With those long locks of yours and that backpack, no one will think twice about some funky necklace. And those that do think twice, maybe it will be a warning."
"You think of all the angles, don't you, Jim?"
Jim thought back to all the times he'd nearly lost his partner to various enemies, criminals, psychopaths. Sometimes his forethought had saved him; other times it had been pure luck. "Yeah, Chief. When it comes to you, I have to."
"I'll be careful, Jim," Blair vowed.
As he watched his partner go one way while he and Simon went the other, Jim felt a ghostly hand reach out and squeeze his shoulder. With a nod of thanks, he let Blair go do his specialty while he did his.
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