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by
God may still be in His Heaven, but there is more than sufficient evidence that all is not right with the world.
Irwin Edman, Adam, the Baby, and the Man from Mars, 1929
Chapter One
The girl shivers as the black satin robe settles against her bare flesh. The material is cold but soon warms to her skin and a moment later she shivers again, the reaction more sensuous than anything else. She sways to the throbbing music that pulsates through the darkened room, allowing the smooth fabric to caress her like a familiar lover. She twirls and loses herself in sensation.
Only when she feels the tingle throughout her whole body does she dance into a circle of black candles, mimicking the movements of the flames as she breezes past them, urged on by the undulating shadows on the walls. She crooks her finger and is joined by another dancer, this one obviously male as his sleek lines and angles are revealed by his clinging robe. The fabric swishes over them, between them, and the gentle rasp heightens the erotic power that exists in the incense-filled room.
Others now join them. One brings a silver chalice overflowing with red wine. Another offers an intricately etched dagger, its blade finely honed to perfection. The dagger is passed among the dancers, each piercing a finger and painting an inverted cross upon his or her forehead before squeezing one precious drop into the chalice. When all have made their sacrifices, the cup is offered to she-who-will-lead, and they draw back. In the center of the circle she stands, facing a full-length mirror.
"It is our Will to invoke the goddess Lilith, so that by her spirit we will be empowered with all that praises the body." She pauses and admires the reflection, her hands stroking the lithe frame, pressing the satin flat against her curves.
"I am the Daughter of Fortitude and Understanding. I am shadowed with the Circle of Stars and covered with Morning Clouds. The Lion cannot follow my steps nor the eagle my flight. Happy is he that embraces me, for in the night season I am sweet, and in the day, full of pleasure."
"Flesh she will eat, blood she will drink," the others recite.
One steps forward and kneels at her feet. "Dark is she, but as bright as the sun at midday. Black are her wings; red as roses are her lips which kiss the Universe. She is Lilith, who leads the hordes of the Abyss and fulfills their desires. A virgin to the virgins; a wanton to those who drink freely of lust. Come to us, Queen of the Magic Circle. Come and quench our fires!"
"Lilith! Lilith! Lilith!" they all shout as the one in the center lifts the chalice and drinks.
The mirror shatters.
*****
"No!"
The cry reverberated through the loft and Blair Sandburg, coming instantly awake, felt the hair on his body stand on end. Even before he was aware of his actions, he was scrambling out of his bed and running toward the stairs which led to his partner's room. The shout was familiar; the panic beneath it was not.
At the top of the stairs, he found Jim Ellison sitting up in bed, carved in stone for all the movement he exhibited. Zoned, Blair realized as he approached his best friend who faintly glowed in the weak light reflected from the lamp below, a lamp Blair had clicked on in order not to kill himself as he raced up the steps to the loft. He shivered as he stared at the figure and the hairs which had settled, once again were at full alert. It wasn't fear prompting the response this time, but awe. The man before him was mortal, maybe too much so at times, but he was not like other men. He had not been born the same and as he journeyed along his life, he was becoming even less like the people around him.
Jim Ellison had been born a Sentinel, a person with all five senses enhanced. The young Jim did not realize he was different but as he grew older, his father noticed and urged the child to repress his talents. Anger drove an older Jim into the Army and the Army lost him in a jungle in Peru. There the senses emerged to help him survive, yet once he was found, he pushed them away again. But now that his adult mind knew of them, they could not be held back. Lacking the ability to control the barrage of sensory input, insanity knocked long and hard at the edge of Jim's mind, beckoning seductively to him.
Fate had stepped in then, in the form of Blair Sandburg, anthropology grad student. He had become fascinated with the idea that ancient tribes had bred extraordinary watchmen to guard their territory-- men and women who could see, hear, taste, touch, and smell better than anyone else. The fascination had turned into an obsession and the obsession had led to the discovery of one such person, a detective on the brink of madness as his powerful senses ran rampant.
What started as one man in search of control and another in search of a dissertation became something far more gratifying. Blair became Jim's Guide-- his teacher in the ways of the Sentinel, and it quickly became evident that this was more than just a student/teacher relationship. In each other, the men found the missing parts which had prevented them from being whole; pieces which had been actively searched for, and chunks that filled holes which neither had known existed. They became partners, friends, brothers, soulmates.
A bond formed between them, a mental link they called the Sentinel/Guide connection. It gave Jim the ability to know when Blair was in trouble and Blair the ability to reach Jim when his senses carried him away. Which was the problem now. Sometimes when Jim reached out too far with one of his senses, he would become overwhelmed and lose contact with the actual world around him as he sank deeper and deeper into a particular smell, sight, sound....
Blair made his way to the bed and placed his hands on Jim's shoulders. "Jim! It's Blair, man. Time to come back. Follow my voice, Jim. It's time to come home." The shoulders beneath his palms shuddered and Jim drew a ragged breath. Blue eyes focused on their darker counterparts, recognition evident. "That's the way, Jim." The smile which had crept to Blair's face when his partner recognized him faded as the eyes glittered with unshed tears. "What is it, man? Are you in pain?"
"She's free, Chief. What have they done? Do they not realize the chaos which will follow?" Jim asked bewilderedly.
Blair reached out to cup his partner's chin in his hands. "Who's free?" he inquired softly, understanding that it was his duty to unscramble what Jim had told him.
"Lilith."
Blair stared at him, his Jewish heritage coming in handy. "Lilith, as in Adam's first wife?" Who was reportedly a demon. Shit. It was starting to make sense now. Reason No. Two why Jim Ellison was not an ordinary man: recently he had been chosen by the Archangel Michael to fight in the war between good and evil. Sure, everyone had to fight an occasional bout or two with his conscience, but Jim was part of the front line. Forget mental demons; he took on the actual embodiments of evil.
"The harlot that devours men's souls," Jim continued tonelessly. "Created as human, but not suffering death as Adam and his children because she had been cast out of Eden long before that curse. A seductive demon who attacks our baser desires. Men who sleep alone, sleep forever in her wake. She walks among us, Chief. There will be death."
"How do you know this, Jim?"
"Turn on the light." Jim raised his arms and Blair sat back as he gazed upon the brands on the powerful forearms held out for his inspection. They were the marks of Michael-- a sword to designate his status as a warrior and a balance to weigh the evil souls he fought. At the tip of the sword and in the lefthand pan of the scale were single drops of blood.
"You're hurt," Blair said quickly.
"I bleed for those souls she devours."
Blair shook his head. This was all too much for-- he glance at the clock-- 2:30 in the morning. And Jim was not sounding like Jim at all. Yet, when he looked into the eyes, he knew it was Jim, and not some spirit he was channeling. Uh, that was something else Jim Ellison could do. A more complicated man had yet to be found, but Blair knew he would stand by his side no matter what. "Let's get those cleaned up, okay? Then we'll take care of Lilith."
Jim slid to the edge of the bed. "May as well shower and get dressed before we bandage them."
"It's 2:30, Jim. Why get dressed?"
"Because Simon will be calling soon." Simon was Captain Simon Banks, head of the Major Crimes unit of Cascade, Washington's Police Department, good friend to both men, and Watcher to the Sentinel and Guide. He not only knew all of Jim's secrets, but he actively supported him in his duties as protector of the tribe and warrior against the dark forces. "Lilith has already begun her reign of destruction. The department will call him because Lilith does not murder 'prettily', and he will call us--"
"Because we handle all the 'unpretty' murders," Blair completed tiredly.
A hand fell on his shoulder. "I'm sorry about this, Chief."
Surprisingly, he found a smile. "It's okay, big guy. This is not your fault. But it is someone's, isn't it? You asked why 'they' did it. Who, Jim? Who did what?"
"Lilith was bound. Someone called her forth. I do not know who."
"Do you know how to chain her again?"
"No," he replied despondently.
Blair patted his arm. "That's okay. We'll figure it out. We always do, Jim."
Jim nodded and padded downstairs to the bathroom while Blair leaned back against the bed, trying to devise a game plan. This would actually be the first test of Jim-- and therefore all of them-- as a soldier for Michael. Jim had had an altercation with Helaire Delacroix, a disciple of the demon Ahriman. She had promised her master Jim's soul and Jim had objected, even when faced with the greatest of temptations, even when faced with his own death. That had proven him worthy to be named to Michael's army but this was the first actual siege. And it would be against Lilith no less. He wasn't sure of what her powers were, but he was aware she was not a minor demon. Not that he was surprised; it was a given Jim would be tested only against the best.
Hmm. They needed a plan. First, a thorough research of their enemy. That would be his task, of course. Finding Lilith and kicking her ass, well, that pleasure would belong to Jim. And Simon would do what Simon did best-- protect them while they did their jobs. That was simple. He smiled, drifting to sleep in the warmth of Jim that remained in the bed.
Of course, it wasn't going to be easy. But nothing they did ever was.
Chapter Two
"Yeah, captain?"
Simon Banks fought the urge to bang his head against the phone. Ellison and Sandburg lived to freak him out with a display of their Sentinel/Guide talents, and he should really be quite used to it by now. But just when he thought he had it all figured out, one of them would add a new trick. "I am going to assume you knew it was me because no one else would be calling you at 3:15 in the morning," he said, crossing his fingers.
"Actually, I knew it was you because Jim said you would be calling," Blair replied, grinning as he "heard" Simon shaking his head in disbelief. Poor Simon. "So, where's the body?"
"Sandburg, that partner of yours is going to be the reason my pension will be paid to an asylum," the captain warned. "And the answer to your question is the Sandy Creek Motorlodge, out off Route 2."
"Okay, Simon. As soon as Jim comes in from the balcony, we are out the door," Blair said meaningfully.
"Oh, shit," Simon moaned into the phone. The Sentinel surveying his territory from his third story terrace meant that someone or some "thing" was threatening his people. "This isn't a run-of-the-mill murder, is it? Keep him in the truck until I arrive, all right? If he goes all wiggy, I want to be there to run interference. What are we facing, by the way? Ghosts, general madmen, or demons?"
"The latter." A rather vile curse, then the call was violently disconnected.
"Good thing we bought him a phone for Christmas," Jim said as he locked the balcony doors behind him.
"At this rate, we'll be buying him another for his birthday," Blair predicted, catching the jacket Jim hefted in his direction. "You hear everything?" Jim nodded. "You planning on going 'all wiggy'?"
A glare was the single reply as Jim stalked out and left him to lock up the apartment. Blair nodded and followed his partner. If the scene in Jim's bedroom was any indication, yeah, 'wiggy' was going to be the word of the day.
*****
Simon's car was nowhere to be found when they arrived at the scene, so Jim and Blair stayed in the truck as flashing lights illuminated the night sky. People stood scattered in little clumps. Most were obvious guests at the motel, in various states of undress and wakefulness. The rest appeared to be there in some official form. From what Blair could tell, it was the County Sheriff's Department answering the call, not Cascade P.D., so somewhere along the route they must have crossed the city limits. "We're out of our jurisdiction," he commented.
Jim shrugged. "Just makes investigating this thing easier. No matter what side of the line it's on, it's our case, Chief."
Blair nodded. "Those things you said about Lilith earlier. How did you know them?"
Jim sighed and mentally urged Simon along. Blair with too much time on his hands meant questions. "I don't know. I just did."
"I mean did it come to you in a dream? Or was the information whispered into your head or something? At times, it was as if you were quoting something you were hearing... or reading? And how did you know she had escaped? Was that a dream too, or was it just a sudden thought that popped into your head?"
"I don't know, Chief. One second I was asleep, the next you were telling me to come back. I assume I zoned?" Blair nodded. "But I don't know on what. I don't remember."
"I'm not trying to be nosy, Jim. This is important. We've never had an archangel on our side. How does he contact you? What information is he willing to share, and how much of it will we have to get on our own? Will you have special abilities, apart from the ones you already have? You already have so many, man. I thought it was kinda neat finding someone with Sentinel senses, but we've gone way beyond that now, haven't we? Like your ability to talk to ghosts. And now that your enhanced senses are intensified by Alicia's gift..." the aforementioned Helaire had had a daughter, Alicia Delacroix, who had been a young psychic. Before she was killed by her mother and a cult called La Societe de Sang, she had been in psychic contact with Jim and left him the energy which would have fueled her talents. Instead, they now took Jim's abilities to new and as yet, undetermined, heights.
"But that won't last, remember? The year will be up soon," Jim pointed out.
Blair sucked his lip guiltily. Jim was under the impression that the energy from Alicia was temporary. However, the girl had managed to send a letter postmortem to Blair, explaining that the gift was permanent, but she'd thought Jim wouldn't have accepted it if he had known. Blair agreed with her; Jim wasn't overly concerned about his new abilities because he figured they would go away, but if he knew they were around to stay, he would definitely overreact. Change was something he hated.
To Blair's relief, Simon arrived before he had to make a reply."We aren't stepping on any toes, are we, Simon?" he asked nervously as they joined the captain at his car. He was particularly sensitive on that issue since he wasn't actually a policeman, although most of the Cascade P.D. would disagree. In their opinion, the paperwork said he was just an observer, but his actions proved he was a cop.
Simon shook his head. "Sheriff Robinson is a friend of mine. Called me up himself. Here he comes now." Introductions were made.
"I almost didn't recognize you without your cigar, Simon," the sheriff commented with a grin.
"Yeah, well, sometimes you are forced to make changes in your life," he replied, glaring at a certain overly sensitive detective, "whether you want to or not."
"All that government regulation, huh?"
"Something like that, John. How can we be of help?"
"Sorry to call you and your men out here tonight, Simon, but I took one look at the scene and knew I was going to need some kind of expert help. From the papers, I know your Major Crimes unit has handled some weird shit and quite frankly, I'd rather work with y'all than the feds," Robinson explained.
"That's what inter-departmental cooperation is all about. What do you have?"
"One Mr. William Porter in Room 112. Poor bastard got his throat ripped out and apparently he was getting a fuck when it happened. Dick as erect as if he was still deep in her... or I guess it could be a him. Transit workers stay out here mostly. Never quite know what kinda shit they're into. Anyway, the coroner's in a tizzy. Can't figure out how rigor mortis set in so fast. His banner should have wilted long before then. Damn thing would have been funny, if it hadn't been for all the blood. The night manager was making his rounds and noticed the door wasn't completely closed. He peeked in and discovered the body."
"Where is he now?"
"In the office with my investigator, Lee Harvey, giving his statement and getting the paperwork on Porter."
"Your investigator okay with us taking over? Because if we start this case, my men will be the ones working it." He pointed to Jim and Blair. "They're specialists and they have their own way of doing things. It'll all be legal, but it won't always be by the book. They need to know the waters won't be muddied by hurt feelings and they'll also need authorization to question potential witnesses." Simon wanted his friend to know up-front how it would be.
"Lee nodded like one of them toy dogs in the back of a car window when I told him I was giving you a call, so I don't think he's going to be much of a problem. As for authority, raise your right hands, gentlemen," Robinson said to the city duo. "You swear to get this sicko and stay within the law doing it if you can?" They nodded. "Then you are hereby sworn deputies of this here county." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of badges. The three of them looked at him. "Hell, anytime there's an emergency around here, I have to swear in some of the citizens. No big deal."
Blair looked at Jim as Sheriff Robinson led the way to the crime scene. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto," he remarked softly.
"But I don't think we're going to see the wizard," Jim replied as his nose caught the scent of spilled blood. "Be prepared, Chief. This is going to be messy."
Blair nodded and made sure he was centered before stepping into the room behind Jim. The first notable thing was that the mirrors were covered. Both the one over the dresser and the one at the back wall above a sink were blocked by thin, coarse-looking, almost white towels. He was about to comment on that when he caught sight of the body. Even though he'd had some idea of the carnage, the sight of the man frozen on the bed still shocked him. The sheriff had described his erect state to perfection but had failed to mention the slack mouth and wide open eyes. Further inspection revealed long gashes in his chest and of course, the raw, gaping hole where his throat had once resided.
Blair bit back the panic rising in him and turned to apologize to Jim for being such a wuss, when he noticed the Sentinel's fingers doing a quick dance in the air. For Jim's normal enhanced senses, he had taught him to mentally picture a dial which he turned up and down to control their intensity. With the recent "improvements", he'd had Jim picture a television remote control: the channel button switched him from enhanced to super-enhanced, and the volume button indicated the level. Evidently, Jim was switching to super mode.
The anthropologist caught Simon's eye, as the captain stood near the door with the sheriff and the county coroner. There had been introductions earlier but he'd been too drawn to the body to participate. Simon looked quickly toward Jim, noticed he was deep into Sentinel mode, and quickly urged everyone out the door before coming to stand beside Blair.
"What's he doing?"
Blair shrugged as Jim lightly ran his hands along the body, keeping about an inch of space between his flesh and the cadaver's. "Jim, which sense are you using?"
"Touch."
Blair once again noted the space and made a mental addendum to his list of things to test in the lab. Damn. He was getting as list-anal as Jim. "What is it telling you?"
"He was paralyzed before he was killed. That explains the unnatural stiffness of the body. The coroner should find traces of the drug here in these long scratches." He indicated the marks on the chest. "She either had it under her fingernails or maybe it's painted on like polish. Can you cut the lights?" The room plunged into darkness, except to Jim whose eyesight switched to infrared. "After she killed him, she walked to the bathroom and took a shower. Forensics needs to check the drain."
"There's still enough residual heat from her movements for you to track them?" Blair inquired eagerly. "How do you know it's her movements you're following? There's probably been quite a number of people through here."
Jim frowned. "What left these traces is not human, Chief. The signature colors are different from ours. Hotter and it's not dissipating all that quickly. I can even tell that she stood here for a while, making decisions. Then she paced beside the bed. I don't think she was satisfied. She was trapped on the other side for a long time. The blood, the sex, wasn't enough. She needed more." He walked to the door and opened it. Ignoring the officers outside, he sniffed the air and proceeded across the parking lot. Blair and Simon were at his heels.
"What the hell is going on?" the coroner asked the sheriff as the Cascade officers trooped past them.
Sheriff Robinson folded his arms and watched the trio. "I don't know how he managed it, but I think Simon has a goddamned profiler working for him."
Chapter Three
"A profiler?" Dr. Andy Hartsell nearly exclaimed as he stared at the sheriff. "Like on TV? I thought only the FBI had them?"
"Yeah, me too," Robinson agreed, but knew what he knew. "You were listening at the door like I was, heard him say the blood and sex wasn't enough for her and that she needed more. What does that sound like to you, Andy? He was getting into her head, just like one of those freaks." The sheriff watched the tall detective lead his captain and partner to a specific door and stop. They exchanged words, and before the captain could turn around and make a request, Robinson was tugging a man in their direction. "This is the manager. He'll open that door for you."
Simon gave a quick nod and surreptitiously shoved Jim back from the door so the man, his hand visibly shaking, could insert the key. Jim turned as the light switch was hit and Blair noticed his fingers dancing again. Why the physical manifestation, man? The dial you controlled in your head. But it took months for you to get used to that and I still have to prompt you at times. The remote has become automatic. Is it because it's physical? Damn. While we were waiting for something like this to happen, I should have been testing you, Jim. My bad. Give the Guide one demerit. But just wait until this is over....
Lost in his thoughts, it took Blair a moment to realize the crime scene was slightly different from the other. When Jim had led them across the parking lot-- using smell-- to this room and said another victim was behind the door, he figured it was another bloodbath. But it wasn't. Except for the covered mirrors, the room was as neat as a pin. The body in the bed was covered to his chest in a sheet. Instead of a gaping hole in his neck, it appeared that she had merely nicked his carotid artery and drank as prissily as a six-year-old at a fantasy tea party. Sure, the man was just as dead as the other victim, but the violence was missing.
"What happened here, Jim?" Simon asked softly.
"He pleased her, therefore she made sure his death was gentle. Also, and I think the coroner will confirm it, she was here with him even as the investigation of the first murder was beginning. So, she had to be quiet and keep him quiet as well. But it was mostly out of respect for him that she killed so cleanly."
"So it is the same killer?" Sheriff Robinson asked, shamelessly eavesdropping.
"Yes."
"Where is she now?"
"Gone. She walked out the door and left, unnoticed in the crowd."
"I thought we had evacuated all the occupied rooms, Lee?" the sheriff asked his investigator, who had belatedly joined them.
"We did, sir."
"Who came out of this one?"
He flipped through a battered notepad. "Veronica Alden. The name matched with the info on the registration sheet-- V. Alden."
"Except the 'V' stood for Vernon, not Veronica," the night manager said from his position by the door. He'd already walked in on one dead body tonight; no way he was going to look at another.
"Shit," Lee Harvey said sheepishly. "Guess I fucked up, sheriff. Good thing you called in some real detectives."
"Could have happened to anyone," Jim said kindly, earning him a shocked stare from Blair and Simon. "Can you remember what this Veronica looked like?"
The investigator closed his eyes. "Short, dark hair. 5'5" or so. Petite build. When Ernie gets in, I'll see if I can put together a composite. Ernie's our local sketch artist."
"Thanks," Jim said with a gracious smile and handed Harvey a card. "This has my FAX number and email address along with my other numbers. Just send the information the best way you can when you have it. Come on, Chief, I think we're done here. Meet you back at the station, captain?"
"Uh, sure," Simon said cautiously, wondering what the hell his detective was up to. No time to worry about that now. John Robinson was looking at him speculatively and he realized that they hadn't been too discreet in their actions. It was just so much easier doing this stuff in the city, where everyone knew to ignore them. But before he could think of something to say to explain the behavior of his lead detective, Robinson spoke.
"How'd you pull this one off, Simon? I always knew you were a sneaky, pushy sonuvabitch, but even I didn't think you could manage something like this."
"I have no idea what you're talking about, John," Simon replied with complete honesty.
"Dispense with the innocent routine, you ol' coot. How'd you end up with your own private profiler while the rest of us have to go to the suits for one?"
"Profiler?" Simon's eyes narrowed in puzzlement. Then it hit him. "You mean Ellison?"
"'You mean Ellison?'" Robinson mocked. "Of course I mean Ellison. Or do you have a better explanation for what I just witnessed?"
"I can't think of one at the moment," Simon mumbled. "You might want to keep that thought under your hat, John."
"Gone and forgotten," the sheriff said amiably. "Still, I don't envy you at all, my friend. There's something spooky about people like that."
Simon watched the blue and white truck pull away, barely making out the two familiar figures in the pre-dawn light. "You don't know the half of it, John. You just don't know."
*****
Edgar Masden was a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist. In his apartment in New York, one whole wall was devoted to his expertise-- plaques, figurines, pictures of him with noted persons worldwide. Politicians in Washington feared him, queens asked for him personally, and a certain underworld figure had asked him to tell his story. What a life. At least it had been until living on the edge caught up to him. Drugs and booze. How trite of him. But not as trite as the Pershing Group, his publishers, sending him to the boondocks until he dried out. The Cascade Gazette. Not even the Cascadian, a medium-sized regional rag for the Northwestern part of the country. No, he was stuck at the Cascade Gazette, Serving the Rural Community of Cascade County. God, he hated it.
Especially when his editor called him out of his bed to come out to some fleabag motel because a guest was found dead in his bed. Real big news, he thought as he leaned against his car and waited for the police to give a press conference. He laughed at the term as he recognized the only other journalist besides him. The Cascadian hadn't even sent their best writer, which meant the story was crap. But then everything in this godforsaken county was crap. The only thing keeping him from pulling out the remaining hairs on his head was the thought that maybe he could get some ideas for the novel he was writing. Bestseller, of course. Far less accomplished journalists had found success in that arena. Surely, he would too.
He looked around briefly as a blue and white pickup pulled into the parking lot. Great. More hicks. Just what this party needed. The truck was later joined by a silver Intrepid and a tall well-dressed Black man stepped out. Now, he looks like someone who might actually know what he's doing. The pair from the truck joined him.
"Damn."
Masden looked over at the young woman beside him. Laurie Stokes was the Cascadian's "B" writer. Her work was good, but not good enough to be the "ace" reporter for the paper. "What's the problem, Stokes? Who's the Black guy?"
"Captain Simon Banks. He heads Cascade P.D.'s Major Crimes unit. And the problem is that this is no longer my story. I have to call Larry."
Larry Jordan was the Cascadian's top reporter. Masden had no idea of why Jordan was wasting his talents out here when he could have had a job in New York or L.A., but the man managed to rack up national awards anyway. "Why do you have to contact Jordan? Is Banks that important?" It was interesting that the city cops were being called in, but so what?
"Not Banks himself, but his men. See them? The shorter one is Blair Sandburg. The other is Detective Jim Ellison. Larry had it put into his contract that he gets all stories involving Ellison."
Masden's eyes narrowed in confusion. "I don't get it." He didn't see anything special about the two men, other than the department let the shorter one get away with a ponytail. Probably worked Vice or Narcotics before Major Crimes.
Laurie raised her hand for silence as she spoke into her cell phone. "Larry, it's Laurie. I'm at the scene of a murder at the Sandy Creek Motorlodge out on Route 2. Ellison just arrived... Yeah, okay. Bye." She stuck the phone back in her pocket. "He's on his way. Wants me to keep notes until he gets here. How long you been here, Masden?"
"Three months, fourteen days, eleven hours and counting."
She laughed at his aggrieved tone. "Well, that should have been long enough for you to figure out the major players in Cascade. Maybe your editors were right to stick you out here. Definitely off your game, Edgar. And before the word 'bitch' crosses your tongue, remember I have information you need."
"Please continue, Ms. Stokes," he said with forced politeness.
"Ellison and his partner always get the big cases. We're talking international politics, conspiracies, terrorist activities... I'm talking Washington D.C.-sized shit, Masden. Not to mention serial killers, big-time psychos, and 60 Minutes-worthy criminals. A guaranteed headline every time."
"You're joking, right?" He looked at the sweater and jean clad duo. "Those two detectives are responsible for saving the world? Yeah, right."
Laurie shook her head. "One detective and one graduate student working on a dissertation in anthropology."
Masden laughed so loud that others glanced in their direction. "Now I know you're shitting me, Stokes. What is this? Some kind of snipe hunt for new reporters? I may be new to the area, but I'm not fresh from J-school."
She shrugged. "Believe what you want, Masden. I'm just telling you how it is. And I think, you're getting ready to eat your words." She pointed to where Ellison was leading the cops toward another motel room. "Hmm. Wonder if we're going the serial killer route this time?" she asked, leaving him as she moved to get closer.
He followed, taking note of everything that occurred. It was obvious that Ellison was the key to what was going on. He always took the lead and most questions were directed toward him. Who the hell was this guy? How had he known there was another victim? Why didn't he have a real partner? And why the hell was a student working for the police department?
"Dispense with the innocent routine, you ol' coot. How'd you end up with your own private profiler while the rest of us have to go to the suits for one?" he overheard the sheriff asking Banks later. The captain's reply was too soft to overhear and a moment later, the tall man got in his car and left.
A profiler? Working for a local force? Masden grinned and slid behind the wheel of his own vehicle. He hit the one speed dial button on his cell phone that he had refused to erase. "Cindy, it's me... Yeah, I know what time it is out here and no, I'm not high on anything. Look, I want you to do me a favor, babe... I know, but this is important... Honest to God, I haven't had anything since I been in this godforsaken place... Thanks, babe. I want you to get me everything you can on a Jim Ellison. He's supposedly a detective on the Cascade Police force. But I have a hunch he's more... much more."
Chapter Four
"Okay, gentlemen, what's the long version?" Simon inquired as they settled in his office with their coffee mugs steaming. Because it was still early, the rest of the unit hadn't come in yet. He was hoping to get the story before the others arrived. That way he didn't have to monitor his reactions. And he was sure he would react. No matter how firmly in his heart he accepted his position as Watcher, his mind still rebelled on occasion. Especially now that Jim had accepted this supernatural mission as a soldier for an archangel. What did that mean? That angels were real? That God was real? Or was it less precise than that? Maybe it provided no answers, only questions.
Jim shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Somebody called forth a demon last night. I felt, sensed, her presence."
"And yelled so loudly, I almost wet the bed," Blair added, earning him an icy stare from his partner. "Hey, he wanted the whole story, remember?"
"Maybe I should amend that to just the pertinent facts," Simon said, although he understood why Blair had interrupted. If Jim was irritated with him, he wouldn't focus so much on what he was admitting to. The captain was fairly certain that sensing demons hadn't been on the detective's list of future accomplishments. "What do you mean by 'somebody called forth a demon.'? This was a deliberate action? Some kind of Satanic ritual?" See? I can pretend this is all normal. And if Jim senses the shaking of my bones, well, he knows how to keep a secret.
"They had to use the power of blood to free her."
"Her?"
"Lilith."
"She's the one who killed to the two men at the motel?" Jim nodded. "So I take it she isn't exactly a harmless demon?"
Blair cleared his throat. "Legend has it, captain, that Satan took Lilith as a lover, but she was too much for him to handle, so he banished her to the desert."
"Shit, Sandburg. I could have gone the rest of my life without hearing that one," Simon replied, wondering if he should have stopped by the drug store on the way in. His aspirin stash was running a bit low. "You got a dossier on her yet?"
Blair straightened out crumpled pages in his hand. "According to the generally accepted mythos of Lilith, she was the first wife of Adam. She was created from the dust at the same time he was and therefore she considered herself his equal in every way. Adam had a different opinion, however. He claimed God had created Lilith as a help mate, which made her no better than the beasts of the field. The argument reached its pinnacle when it came time for them to make love. Adam demanded to be on top, thereby putting Lilith in the submissive position. Lilith said no way. She went to see God and seduced him into telling her his sacred name which no one knew. Speaking that name gave her power and she flew away from the Garden of Eden. She took demons as her lovers, and as I mentioned before, Satan as well. From these matings, thousands and thousands of demon children, called the Lilim, were spawned, and thus the world was populated with demons.
"Now, here's where I get really worried. After a while, Adam decided he wanted Lilith back. So he went to God and God sent three angels after her. The three were named Senoy, Sansenoy, and Semangeloph. They found her and demanded her return, telling her that if she refused they would slay one hundred of her demon children each day until she decided to come back to the Garden."
"Wait a minute, Sandburg. I'm getting confused as to who are the bad guys and the good guys in this tale," Simon admitted. "I'm starting to feel a bit sorry for Lilith. Sounds as if Adam was a jackass and she's the one paying for it."
"That's why she is revered by some as a goddess, a symbol of the Liberated Woman. Navigating through some of the web pages dedicated to her, I started feeling sorry for her too. But Lilith ain't the type girl to quietly sit back and take it, Simon. She told the angels that losing her children was a better fate than going back and submitting to Adam. Then she told them that as long as they slay her offspring, she would slay the children of Adam. She swore to attack women during childbirth, and all newborns-- baby girls for twenty days after their birth and boys for eight."
"Shit," Simon groaned. "How the hell are we supposed to protect all the pregnant women and their babies? Do you know the birthrate around here?" He shuddered, remembering how close he'd come to losing both Joan and Daryl at his son's birth. If everyone in Cascade had to go through that, Lilith would be the least of their problems.
"That sympathy you were feeling for Lilith earlier? It's warranted because she gives an out to her curse; if she sees the names of the three angels somewhere, that place and everyone in it are safe from her wrath."
"So we...?"
"We print up a flyer saying the three angels are looking for a roommate or having a yard sale or something. Most hospitals and clinics have a community bulletin board where anyone can post news and requests."
"Good thinking, Sandburg. What about the babies who go home before those days are up?"
Blair looked at Jim who replied, "We put the same notice in the newspaper and hope for the best. We probably can't protect them all, but we should cover most."
Simon grinned. "Maybe I should get you guys in here this early every morning. Your brain cells seem to be at top speed. Now, what about the murders? No babies were involved, so am I to assume Lilith has another agenda? Like maybe she's a succubus?" Jim and Blair stared at him. "I wasn't always a captain, remember? I worked a task force dealing with cults for a while. For some reason, sex demons were always a favorite with those types. And considering Lilith wouldn't sleep with Adam, but enjoyed an occasional demon lover, I'm thinking that maybe she's into kinky. Which would explain the deep scratches on the first body, and the violent loss of his throat."
"There is a school of thought that considers Lilith a vampire," Blair added. "And the rumors are that she is responsible for 'wet dreams'. She supposedly steals the semen to make more demon babies." Everyone looked at each other uncomfortably, remembering their youths. "But for the moment, I think we can get by with just dealing with her being a murderer."
"Thank you, Sandburg. You don't know how happy I am to hear you say that. So, Lilith is a murderer. Her targets will be...?"
"She enters through the mind, preying on the flesh of single men: seducing them and luring them to their deaths in her embrace," Jim answered in his "recitation" voice.
Simon looked quickly to Blair, silently asking, Where is he getting this from? Blair shrugged, then tapped his forearms. Simon removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. The brands.... It had been discovered later that only the three of them could see the marks. When he had been included in the exclusive group, that was when he finally had had to admit to himself that his destiny was irrevocably entwined with theirs. "Okay. How do we stop her?"
Haunted eyes glanced in his direction. "I have no idea."
"But that's not a problem," Blair said quickly, never one to let his partner wallow in despair. "Getting rid of demons has been a time-honored activity since time itself began. Therefore, the information exists somewhere and we will find it. Lilith was banished once; Jim will make sure she is again."
"I agree," Simon said firmly. "Jim, I think you should check the files we have on our local demon-lovers. See if there has been any recent activity among known pagan groups, especially those who practice tantric rituals. Also, see if there have been any complaints about strange lights or fires in the woods." He glanced at a roster on his desk. "Brown and Rafe are pretty caught up. I'll assign them to help you. Sandburg, you get on the internet and see what else you can get from those web pages. Does anybody have anything else to add?" Jim frowned. "You have a concern, Jim?"
"I don't want you to take this the wrong way, sir, and Chief, I know you're going to take it the wrong way, but you're both going to have to stay away from women while Lilith is on the loose."
"I beg your pardon, detective?"
"Get real, Jim!"
"You're both single men. If she discovers who I am, you will be targets."
"You're single too," Blair pointed out in concern.
"But I will be able to recognize her, if not by these," he pulled up his sleeves to reveal the bandages on his arms, "then by my nose. That's how I found the second victim. I followed her scent."
"Then if Sandburg and I meet someone new, we'll be sure to bring her by and let you sniff her," Simon said, half-jokingly.
"Not just someone new, Simon."
"You're afraid she may possess someone like I was possessed?" Blair asked, remembering the shame of walking into a trap, which left a demon in control of his body and trying to kill Jim.
"No, not possession. Lilith is a shape-shifter."
"She's a what!"
"I don't remember that in any legend, Jim. Granted, I should have been catching up on my demon lore the past few months..."
Jim sighed. "I saw the way the two of you looked at me when I didn't explode after the county investigator admitted his goof. But I needed to know what this woman looked like. He said she had short, dark hair. They will find long, blond hairs in the shower of the other room."
"A wig?" Simon hazarded.
"No. Her scent was slightly altered in the second room. I suspected what she had done, but I wasn't sure until then."
"So, you're saying she could transform herself into any woman we know?" Blair asked hesitantly.
"I think so, Chief."
"Damn. That certainly puts a crimp into my social life. What about you, Simon?"
"Yeah, I agree. But, Sandburg, we knew from the beginning that we were going to have to make sacrifices, if we were going to stand with Jim in this. I guess this is the first one," the captain said nobly. "Of course, I expect you to deal with this demon in a timely manner so that this sacrifice won't go on too long," he admonished his men.
"Of course, sir," Jim said apologetically and stepped out of the office.
Before Blair could join him, Simon tugged on his arm and said softly, "What social life, Sandburg?"
"The same as yours, Simon," Blair replied with a grin. "Where in the world did he get the idea we had social lives?"
"Hey, he's your roommate. Not mine."
"Except when we're fighting demons," Blair said gleefully. "Got your bag packed, sir?"
"I am not camping out at the loft every time some demon comes to town," Simon said forcefully.
"But, captain," Blair said, throwing Simon's own "noble" words back in his face, "we knew from the beginning we were going to have to make sacrifices if we--"
"Maybe I'll just decide to sacrifice you, Sandburg," Simon grumbled.
"The others are coming," Jim warned, having heard everything. He wondered if they knew how much he counted on their lighthearted bickering to keep him balanced even when things seemed hopeless. Not that they did now. Simon was handing out assignments. Blair was on the 'net. He was...not doing much, but that wasn't as discouraging as it sounded. However, days from now who knew what they would be facing.... Keep up the good spirits, guys.
"Rafe, Brown, got a special assignment for you. We picked up a case this morning from the county sheriff..."
*****
"I think we may have a break," Blair called excitedly as he rapped on Simon's office door several hours later. Simon motioned for him and his partner to enter. He held out a sheaf of printouts. "This is the Invocation of Lilith. It's probably what they used to call her into this world."
"And?" Simon prompted as he glanced at the pages. The Invocation of Lilith, it read. A Rite of Dark Sexuality. Hmm. What kind of freaks went for that? You worked the task force, Banks. You know exactly what kind of freaks. The whips and chains kind.
"There are some items they would need that we could possibly trace. For instance, they would need black or purple candles. There are maybe a dozen or less New Age/Wiccan stores in the area that would carry these."
"And you would know this because..." the captain asked, then shook his head. He really didn't want to know. "Let's get Brown and Rafe on this. They're probably tired of sitting in the office all morning anyway. What else do you have?"
"Uh, they would need a silver chalice. Maybe check the jewelry stores or antique houses. Oh, and then there's a dagger--"
"A dagger?" Jim asked, speaking for the first time. "I remember a... A piece of paper, sir." Simon slid a sheet of paper and a pen to the edge of his desk, and Jim began drawing from his memory.
"He kept that too, I see," Simon commented. Jim had never been able to draw until he was involved in the Society murders.
"I've had to start another notebook on him," Blair said, watching his friend sketch so effortlessly. "What I used to know rarely applies anymore."
"As long as you stay just one step ahead, you'll be okay, kid," the captain said, hearing the frustration in Blair's voice.
Blair gave a hollow laugh. "A step ahead? I'm just trying not to be left in the dust, Simon."
"I am still in the room, remember?" Jim questioned dryly as his friends talked around him. "No one's going to be left behind, Chief. As far as I can tell, these things," he fingered the brands, "are only good for alerting me to the presence of a demon. So the big changes have come from Alicia and they'll be leaving soon. Then it'll just be plain me again with regular Sentinel senses." He smiled. "Never thought I would consider them normal."
"Jim..." Blair began, wondering if it was time to come clean. He had known the deception couldn't make it past the year mark.
"Sorry, Chief. I don't mean to interrupt you, but this is a sketch of the dagger used." He handed it to his companions.
"The detail is exquisite, Jim," Blair said with no little amount of awe.
"Maybe if we could show it to some of the weapons dealers around here, the antique shops..."
Simon nodded. "Guess it's time to bring Joel and Zack in on the party," he said, referring to two of his other detectives, Captain Joel Taggert and Zack Dalton.
"Let us do it, Simon," Jim pleaded. "I could use the air."
Simon frowned, but nodded. "Okay, but don't spend a lot of time on it. You two are better utilized here in the office, coming up with leads. You're wasted doing legwork. So go out, get lunch, check a few places, then come back in and let me hand it off. Okay?"
"Thanks, captain."
"Make copies of the sketch and--" He was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. "Banks... What? That doesn't sound like him... Okay, I'm on my way." He hung up the phone and looked at Jim. "You heard?"
"Yes, sir. I didn't intend to eavesdrop--"
"It's okay. Our lives overlap too much to have many secrets and if that boy doesn't give me any straight answers, it's not going to be a secret much longer anyway," he added, grabbing his coat and leaving.
"What was that about?" Blair asked in concern.
"That was Daryl's school. He's being held in the principal's office for fighting."
Blair looked disbelievingly at Jim. "Daryl doesn't fight." He was good friends with the captain's teenage son. Daryl was just a half a semester away from being a senior. He wouldn't jeopardize that by fighting.
Jim shrugged. "It'll be okay, Chief. Simon will get to the bottom of it. Now, go out there and see if you can sweet talk Maggie into running some copies of this before finishing the commissioner's thirty-page report."
"Sweet talk? I thought I was supposed to be wary of women, Jim," Blair reminded him nicely.
"Don't worry, Chief. I'll sniff her first."
Blair gave a loud guffaw. "I can read the sexual harassment suit now, 'Detective Sniffed Me'. All I can say, Jim, is please be discreet."
Jim clapped him forcefully on the back. "You know me, Chief. Discretion is my middle name."
"And I thought it was--" The rest of the comment was lost in sounds of mock pain as Jim swatted the back of his head.
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