|
|
by
Chapter Nine
"We got to sleep through the whole night. What does that mean?" Blair asked as he sat down at the breakfast table across from his roommate.
"That demons don't keep timetables?"
Blair sighed. "I still say Michael could have improved your sense of humor while he was repairing your body."
Jim picked up a forkful of egg, ignoring the slight to his humorous nature. "Although there have been certain rumors, Lilith is not a vampire, Chief. She can operate in the sunlight."
"And you know this because...."
"I just do."
Blair rolled his eyes. "Is that going to be your standard answer, Jim? 'I just do.' That's not a big help, you know."
"I'm not trying to be difficult," Jim defended himself. "I know that we need to collect all the information we can and share it with each other. If I could tell you that the information appeared to me in a dream or I saw it scribbled in the steam on the bathroom mirror, I would. But it's nothing I'm conscious of, Chief. It's like the sky is blue. How do I know that? Do you remember when you learned the sky is blue, Sandburg? No. But nevertheless, you know it, right?"
"You're talking about the sky in general, right? Not Cascade's, which is mainly gray and leaking?" Blair teased. "I hear you, man, and I'll back off. For now."
"'For now,' he warns," Jim muttered as he refilled both their coffee mugs. "We have a reprieve of sorts. Anything you need to get done before duty rears its ugly head?"
"As a matter of fact, there are a couple of errands I need to run at Rainier, check my mailbox and stuff like that. Think you can spare me for about an hour or so?"
"Yeah, I'll just head down to the station and see if the information from the sheriff's investigator has come in yet."
Ten minutes later, both men headed out the door. "I know it seems calm, but be careful, Chief," Jim warned as he got into the truck.
Blair smiled gratefully as the Volvo started on the first try. "I will. You too, Jim."
"You got it." At the first stoplight he came to, Jim took his cell phone and dialed Simon. "Hi, Simon. Just letting you know I'm on my way in...He's stopping by Rainier for an hour or so...No, I don't think this means she's decided to change her ways. She's probably just gathering her energies...Of course I've been around Sandburg too long, but the same could be said of you...How was Daryl when you dropped him off at school?...And the two of you?" He frowned as he pulled into a space at the Cascade Towers. Why the hell was he stopping here? "What?...I don't know what's going on, Simon. I'm at the Cascade Towers and..." He breathed deeply. "Lilith is here!...Wait for backup? Come on, Si--...Fine! I'll wait!"
Jim fumed beside his truck as he waited for a patrol unit to respond. Lilith was somewhere in the hotel, killing some poor unfortunate and he was standing around waiting for backup. But he had promised not only Simon and Blair, but Michael as well, that he would listen to his Watcher and Guide. And if Jim Ellison was anything, he was a man of his word. Even if his jaw cracked while he waited.
As soon as he spotted the patrol car, he took off for the hotel lobby. Because he had to wait until an elevator reached the ground floor, the officer managed to catch up with him. Breathless, the young cop glanced at the detective and asked, "What floor?" as his fingers paused above the buttons. His companion didn't reply and Officer Myron Whittaker glanced over at him questioningly. Det. Ellison's eyes were unfocused and his mouth was slightly agape. He wondered briefly if the man was having some sort of seizure, but he didn't bother him. As soon as he'd been assigned to the Central Precinct, he'd been told never to interfere with whatever the detective did. Ever...unless you wanted to face the wrath of Captain Banks. So he waited patiently and was rewarded with a terse, "Eighth."
The elevator's door slid back and Jim ran through. At Room 826, he pulled his weapon. At 828, he kicked in the door. Whittaker started to mumble something about warrants, but remembered in the nick of time that questioning the detective was taboo. Then he saw a sight which ripped all rational thought out of his head. A woman kneeling on a bed. Her hair was ash blond, her eyes hazel, height 5'5-ish, weight 120. He noticed this because he was a cop. She was naked. He noticed this because he was a man. She was covered in nothing but...blood. But not her own. This he noticed because he was human and so was her victim. Male. Brown hair. Nude. Quite dead.
Lilith looked up, startled as the door flew open just as she was finishing her breakfast. Some called her a vampire, but she wasn't. Vampires required blood to exist; she just liked the taste of it. Her first thought, as she stared at the pair, was that room service had provided lunch and dinner. Then she noticed herself changing, her body growing thinner and longer, her hair also lengthening and darkening to a jet black. Only one kind of human made her revert to her true form.
"My, I must compliment Michael," she said approvingly as she took in the luscious male who had destroyed the door. Those eyes, those muscles, that..... "You certainly are a step above his usual sackcloth-wearing monk. Young, beautiful, virile. Don't tell me Michael is into collecting 'trophies' now. I always did think he was a waste as an angel. You can put down the gun, darling. You know it won't do any good."
Jim shrugged and tucked it into the small of his back. "Came with the badge, along with the words 'you are under arrest for the murder of the poor bastard you have between your legs.'"
"And a sense of humor as well," she said as she lifted herself off the corpse and sat on the edge of the bed. With her change of form, the blood covering her had disappeared, and Jim and Whittaker were left in the presence of a very beautiful, naked woman who was taking her time crossing her legs. "So how do you plan to trick me, handsome? I don't mean any disrespect, but I doubt if anyone as pretty as you are could possibly outsmart me. That's how it was done before. Of course, I'm not sure if the monk was that wise or I was just that bored. Tell me, is the little friend behind your back part of the game too?" she asked, eyeing the young officer speculatively. "He's a bit plain, but sometimes you need bland. A balanced diet and all that."
"Go for backup," Jim ordered without looking back at Whittaker. His senses felt the officer backing away nervously.
"Gee, I thought we'd never be alone," Lilith said silkenly. "So, what manner of man are you?"
"Flesh and blood, just like the one behind you. Of course, I'm a little more lively."
"I'm sure you are. But there is something different about you, yes? How did you find me? What secrets do you hold?"
He walked a few steps toward her. "I am the keeper of many secrets, Lilith. Would you like to hear one?"
She smiled, lips blood red against her fair skin. "Do tell."
He leaned forward conspiratorily. "I have magic fingers."
"And what magic do they create?"
"The kind you like." He used his eyes to indicate he wanted to sit beside her and she nodded. Fingers traced her spine until she gasped. "See? I told you you would like it." His hand went to her neck. "I can find spots like that all over your body." He pressed her neck to demonstrate. She went limp against his hand. He angled her head until she was facing him. Then he kissed her deeply, allowing his senses to lend him expertise.
"Show me more," she invited when their tongues untangled.
He shook his head and stood. "I'm not into threesomes," he replied, angling his head toward the body in the bed.
"Not a problem." She shoved the corpse onto the floor.
"Maybe later."
"You dare to walk away from me?"
Cool blue eyes engaged black shining ones. "I do."
"Even when you contemplate the pleasure I could give you?"
"Even when I shiver at the thought of the pleasure I could give you," he replied, his eyes making promises she hoped his body could keep.
"There are arrogant men--" she began.
"And then there is me, Lilith. I may be a mere man, but I am all man. The only one who would die in our union would be you-- over and over again."
She shuddered, her mind painting vivid images. "Brave words."
"True words."
He was so confident. "Prove them."
Jim shrugged. "Like I said, maybe later."
Black eyes glowed red, yet Jim didn't flinch. Arrogant human! I *will* sample that which you offer so boldly, but not before you are made to suffer. She gathered her thoughts, then lost them as a growl distracted her. Her eyes widened in wonder as a sleek midnight-hued jaguar slinked around her adversary's legs. The man's hand immediately appeared to caress the silken head. The jaguar purred.
"He's precious," she said delightedly, her anger departing as quickly as it had arrived. "Come to me," she called, holding out her hands to the animal. The only reply was a warning hiss. She looked at Jim in confusion. "I command all beasts and have so since my days in Eden. Why does he refuse me? No beast, especially one as beautiful as this, has ever come to harm by my hands."
"But you meant harm to me."
Her eyes widened. "You and he are linked?" The animal looked up and for a second, his eyes flashed a familiar blue. "You and he are one. Ah. Another of your secrets. Perhaps that is why I am so drawn to you. The wildness in you calls to me as no other has, not even the evil ones. I see now that Michael has been very clever. He has studied my weaknesses. I shall endeavor to remember that."
"Meaning?" Jim inquired, then whipped around as he sensed a presence behind him. But it was too late, and he only caught a glimpse of his attacker before his world went dark.
*****
"You worked the recovery team?"
The man nodded, his white hair startling against the darkness of his skin. "Ah did. The last one befo' Ah retired. Nevuh got over dat one. Dem girls had been down there a long time."
Masden nodded as he sat down on the end of the pier where the man fished. Cindy, in deference to her white skirt, remained standing, shades filtering the harsh Louisiana sun from her eyes. "Can you tell me what happened that day, sir? Some of the things I've heard have been hard to believe."
Amos Moffat nodded. "Ah was there and Ah still don't believe some of what Ah saw myself. Dat detective from up north, he say he know where dat missin' girl be, so we follow him out to da bayou. We got our boats and standard 'quipment with us. People always droppin' things into da bayou dat don't belong there so dis be nothing new. But befo' we can deploy, dat man go wadin' in da bayou and he brung dat little girl out. Pretty little thin' she was too. Anyway, we be thinkin' this job be over, but he say there be others who wanna go home too. So we get out in da bayou and we was gonna start a pattern search like we always do, when he put his hand out over da water and start sayin' somethin'. Ah was out in de middle so Ah couldn't hear him, you understand. But somethin' did. All of a sudden-like, dem bones just come a-poppin' up. Been goin' to church ever since, Ah have."
Masden looked back at Cindy, shaking his head. What the hell is this, he questioned silently. "So, you saw him chanting and holding out his hand, then the bodies appeared. It wasn't like he was seeing or hearing something before?"
"Nope. Don't 'member anything like dat. You can ask da others if you like. They seed the same thin' Ah seed, though." The reporter nodded. He'd talked to others on the recovery crew and the accounts eerily similar. Now he was more confused than ever.
"Glad dat cop went back up north. He scared dis ol' man," Moffat continued, squinting at the red and white bobber at the end of his pole. "But dis wasn't his first time here and Ah guess it won't be his last."
"What do you mean?"
"Ah hear tell he got a little girl of his own over in da Quarter, so Ah'm guessin' he been here befo' and he'll come visitin' again."
A daughter? According to the records, Jim Ellison didn't have any children. Cindy was already whipping out her cell phone as Masden shook Moffat's hand and stood. It would take them at least an hour to reach the French Quarter. By that time, they should have the information they needed.
Chapter Ten
Captain Simon Banks didn't like that Detective Jim Ellison was not answering his cell phone. He was somewhat appeased that there was indeed a police cruiser next to the blue and white pickup, but that relief quickly faded when he walked into the hotel and discovered a fire alarm had just gone off on the eighth floor. Well, at least he didn't have to wonder where his missing detective was.
Refusing to wait for the fire department, he led his own charge up the eight flight of stairs, his officers following obediently. Smoke had started to seep out into the corridor from one of the rooms and in front of said room, a uniform stood at attention. "Where's Det. Ellison?" Simon demanded. No response. He tried to step into the room and the officer blocked him.
Simon knew he could have tried to reason with the man, could have tried to figure out what the hell was going on, but he knew without a doubt that his detective, his friend, no, damn it, his Sentinel, was in serious danger and he didn't have time to reason. So he reached out, batted the officer out of his way, and pushed through the door, which upon closer inspection, was barely on its hinges.
The smoke drove him to his knees and to a little clearer air. He spotted Jim crumbled on the floor, the carpet around him burning and indeed the bed as well. But the flames stayed clear of the detective and Simon blinked as a dark, sleek form seemed to meld into the smoke as he crawled toward his friend. Deciding the smoke was getting to him, he reached out for Jim's nearest body part, which happened to be his feet, and tugged Jim into the hallway. Hands helped, then pulled him away, as newly arriving paramedics took over.
Coughing, he was handed a bottle of water and he took it gratefully. Concerned eyes grazed over him. "I'm okay, Joel. How's Ellison?" he asked.
"He's breathing on his own, but unconscious. They think that's from the blow to his head. He's being transported to Cascade General."
"Blow to his.... Attempted murder then."
"Yes. And, Simon, it looks like Whittaker is our perp."
Simon wiped at his eyes and Joel stuck his glasses in his hand. He hadn't even realized they were missing. "Whittaker? The officer in the hall? He tried to--"
"I know. The men you had with you struggled with him after you moved him out of the way. They took his gun, of course, and that's when they noticed blood on the butt of it. We're pretty sure it's going to match Jim's." He glanced around, checking to make sure no one was too close. "What's going on here, Simon? Why would one of us try to take out our own?"
One of the firemen extinguishing the hotel room called out, "We got a body in here!"
Simon took in a deep breath and started coughing again. When he got it under control, he nodded to Joel. "Ask if it's male or female."
"You don't think it's Blair, do you?" Joel asked in alarm.
"No," Simon replied quickly. "He's over at the university, or at least he was. I sent Brown and Rafe to get him. Just find out for me, Joel, please?"
While Joel went to get the information, Simon got to his feet, scowling as he realized his suit was in dire need of cleaning. Ellison and Sandburg were hell on his wardrobe. "Well?" he asked his returning friend, as well as detective.
"Male."
Simon grimaced. "When Dan gets here, tell him to contact the County Coroner's Office. They will have two similar murders on record from yesterday morning." Dan Wolfe was the city's medical examiner.
"This is part of the serial case we've been working?"
Simon nodded. "I'm headed to the hospital. I'll have Brown and Rafe drop Sandburg there and send them back here to help with the investigation. Your partner picked a perfect day to take off."
"Zack always has perfect timing. Tell Jim I'm thinking about him."
"Will do."
"Hi, captain," Rafe said when he saw Simon enter the E.R.
"Your partner must have been driving," Simon remarked dryly, coming up with the only explanation for them beating him to the hospital. "Where is everyone?"
"Ellison started coming to, so they summoned Sandburg. And Brown went to check the snack machines. They usually have this extra-special cinnamon bun here that he just can't seem to find anywhere else."
"Then I guess he's lucky to be friends with Ellison and Sandburg," the captain replied. All their friends spent way too much time in this E.R. "Well, round him up and get over to the Towers to give Taggert a hand with the investigation."
Rafe nodded and Simon went in search of Sentinel and Guide. One of the staff directed him to a cubicle where a nurse was detaching lines from the patient. "You can't be on your way home already?" he exclaimed.
"Sure I--" A fit of coughing halted Jim's quick reply and it was at least a minute later before he could continue. "I'm fit as a fiddle, Simon."
"Yeah, for someone who was cracked over the head with a pistol and shut up in a burning room, you're doing just dandy, Ellison. You know your butt belongs in the hospital."
"So they can what? Feed me painkillers and wake me every few hours? I can get the same attention at the loft." He lowered his voice. "And we need to talk where someone isn't interrupting us every five minutes to put another hole in me," he added for good measure.
"Why aren't you helping here, Sandburg?" Simon asked in disgust.
"And have Jim throw it back in my face the next time I want to get out the hospital? I don't think so, Simon," Blair replied, looking at the captain as if he had been brain damaged at an early age.
Simon closed his eyes and counted to ten. "I have some calls to make. I'll be in the waiting area when you're ready," he grumbled.
Forty minutes later he was grumbling again. "If you pass out on me, Ellison, I am not going to catch you. Do you understand? I'm going to let your ass hit the floor, and maybe then you'll know why you weren't ready to leave the hospital." Despite his words, he wrapped an arm firmly around Jim's waist while Blair unlocked the door to the loft.
Jim smiled weakly. "I'm not going to pass out. Just a little dizzy from the concussion."
"No shit," Simon snapped.
"And if I don't get away from the smell of smoke, I think I'm going to be sick," Jim realized with a frown.
"Take a shower, man," Blair said quickly. "I'll bring you some clothes." Jim disappeared into the bathroom.
"Should he be getting his bandage wet, or even trying to stand in a shower?" Simon asked with concern.
Blair just smiled. "We've gone through this so much, captain, that we have it down to an art form. In the cabinet are waterproof bandages to cover whatever injuries we've managed to accrue. And there's a stool we place in the tub in case of head injury and/or dizziness. And as the last resort, we never lock the bathroom door, just in case we need a rescue."
"You people are scary."
Blair laughed and went on with his errands. Fifteen minutes later, Jim was out of the bathroom, and Simon was being shoved in. "I knew I should have gone back to the office."
"Then you'd just be using the showers in the locker room," Blair pointed out. He looked over to where Jim was sprawled across the sofa. "He's managing a lot of pain, man. The smoke smell is just too much and since you were the one who played hero...."
Simon would have sighed, but he felt that was getting to be a bit redundant, so he merely shut the bathroom door, and loudly clicked the lock.
"Now, how am I suppose to bring you your clothes?" Blair asked with an evil grin, which grew as he heard a curse and the lock being disengaged.
"This better be worth it," Simon said as he settled onto the loveseat, dressed in sweats and looking quite "uncaptainy". Blair folded himself into the floor at his feet and both focused on Jim. "What happened?"
"I was headed for the station," Jim began, adjusting a pillow so that he was sitting up more than lying down, "when suddenly I realized I was parking in front of the Cascade Towers. That's when I let you know I smelled Lilith, Simon."
"Why didn't you call me?" Blair inquired. "You should have known you needed backup. Especially in that place. Damn. The Towers got an open-door policy on demons or what?"
Belatedly, Jim remembered that was where Blair had gone and ended up possessed. No wonder his pulse is racing. "I was already talking with Simon, Chief, and backup-- eventually-- seemed like a good idea to me too. So I waited for help to arrive before I went into the hotel. Now, I sorta wish I hadn't."
"So you know," Simon observed.
"He knows what? What happened?" Blair asked in confusion. The only thing he was aware of was that Jim had gone to the hotel looking for another one of Lilith's victims, and had ended up passed out cold in a burning room.
"The backup officer was the guy who knocked Jim out."
"What!" He swiveled his head around to stare at Simon. "One of his fellow officers did this? Why?" he demanded.
"We don't know yet. He was taken to the station for questioning, but was so unresponsive, he was transferred to Cascade General for a psych evaluation."
"Son of a bitch would have needed more than a psych evaluation if I'd been around," Blair swore angrily.
"Sandburg!"
"Don't you 'Sandburg' me, Simon. Not this time. Jim could have been killed!"
"Easy, Chief," Jim soothed from the sofa. "Whittaker is about as mild as they get. I think Lilith was influencing him. Maybe she still is."
"Lilith was there, man? You actually saw her?"
"Saw her. Talked to her." Felt her up.
Blair's anger disappeared as curiosity took over. "Start from the top, Jim."
Jim leaned back against the pillows. "I waited for backup, then entered. We went to the eighth floor and found Lilith with her latest victim."
"How did you know where she was?" Blair interrupted. "Was it her scent again?"
Jim started to shake his head, but then remembered that it was 'dented' again. "No, it was another one of those 'I just knew's, Chief. Sorry."
"That's okay. Did she just open the door and let you or what?"
"He kicked the door in," Simon supplied. "I recognized the footwork."
"I didn't really think she would just invite me in," Jim explained dryly. "So Whittaker and I went in. Lilith was naked and straddling a very recently dead body. She was this petite ash blonde, but as soon as she saw me-- or maybe I saw her-- she changed. She became taller and her hair turned black and lengthened. This is her true form, I think, and that's what alerted her to what I am. She apparently reverts in the presence of Michael's hired help."
Blair smiled at Jim's choice of words. Hired help, indeed. "She reverted and then what happened?"
"We, uh, talked."
Jim's reluctance made Blair nervous. "About...?"
"She told me my gun was useless against her, and that she was surprised Michael hadn't chosen his usual monk to fight his battles. She mentioned Whittaker in a way that made me nervous, so I sent him out to wait on backup."
"So he was out of the room?" Simon questioned.
"Yes. I thought he'd be safer that way."
"What about your own safety?"
"I was protected, Simon. When I pissed her off and she wanted to retaliate, my personal kitty came to my rescue."
"Really?" Blair asked excitedly. "She saw him too?"
"Yeah. She apparently has this thing for animals, and she was actually distressed when he wouldn't go to her when she called him. That's when she noticed our connection."
"Back up!" the captain demanded. "Who or what came to your rescue?"
"Jim' s spirit guide, Simon. We've told you about him-- the black jaguar?"
"But I thought he was just something mental, imaginary?"
"I think he's whatever he wants to be, Simon," Jim concluded.
"And your connection?"
Jim shrugged. "We sometimes look alike."
Simon faithfully tucked that information into the little corner of his mind reserved for things he knew, and never wanted to think about again. "So, you pissed her off. How?"
"I wouldn't give her what she wanted," he mumbled in reply.
"Which was?"
"Me."
So that's why Jim was so uncomfortable. "It's okay, man. Seduction is Lilith's M.O. That you were strong enough to deny her--"
"She wasn't the one doing the seducing, Chief."
"I beg your pardon?" Simon questioned sharply. "What the hell does that mean, Ellison?"
"It means, captain, that I told her I had magic fingers, then proceeded to show her," Jim ground out, furious at himself for blushing.
"Damn it! What is it with the two of you? You know, I had an old hound when I was growing up. He was much better behaved after a trip to the vet!"
"Hey! Why are you including me, Simon? I haven't done anything," Blair objected.
"Today, Sandburg. You haven't done anything today. But if your past is any indication--"
"Whoa. The number of good relationships I've had far outnumber the bad. You just don't hear about the good ones, okay? They don't make the bullpen gossip column--"
"Stop!" Jim shouted, sitting up suddenly. The room spun crazily for a couple of seconds and he teetered on the edge of the sofa.
"Jim, man, just breathe in and out slowly. Follow me, man, in and out." Arms held him stable on the sofa.
"I knew he shouldn't have left the hospital!"
Jim risked opening an eye and was pleased to find the room remained in a stationary position. "I'm okay, guys. Just moved a bit fast, that's all. I just wanted you to know before a certain someone pulled a Lorena Bobbitt, or Hugh Hefner here started to list his conquests, that what I did was deliberate."
"What do you mean?" Blair asked, reaching for Jim's forehead to make sure his temperature wasn't up.
"I think I 'm supposed to seduce her, Chief. That's the master plan."
"Plan for what?"
"I don't know, Simon. But she was taunting me earlier, wondering how I was going to trick her. Said she didn't think anyone as pretty," he blushed again, "as I was could possibly outsmart her. There's something I'm supposed to get from her and sex is her weakness. She even admitted that Michael must have studied her vulnerabilities."
"So, in other words, you're bait," Simon said.
"And I don't care much for it," Jim griped.
Blair laughed. "C'mon, man. You're both cops. You send your fellow female officers out to do this kind of stuff every day. Don't tell me you didn't do worse when you were in vice, Jim."
A shudder ran deep inside the Sentinel, but he covered it with a terse, "Now you know why I transferred. The real issue here, however, is not how I'm supposed to get the information, but what it is I'm supposed to get. Any clue, gentlemen?"
Blair popped up. "I'll check in with Willow. Maybe she's found something for me. Captain, if you wouldn't mind, would you please just sit there for a few minutes and make sure he doesn't try to get up? He has all these special gifts, and sometimes I think he gets confused and really believes he is Superman."
Simon snickered. "Maybe Lilith would like him in those tights."
"Spandex is the way to go, Simon. Definitely spandex."
"You two will gets yours. I promise you," Jim threatened as he reclined once again on the sofa.
"Aw, Jim. Don't worry. We know you're just a tease."
An excellent display of verbal vituperation was promptly drowned out by uncontrollable laughter.
Chapter Eleven
"Willow says that Lilith has to be willing to go back into exile, that she must be made submissive for the reversal to work," Blair explained quietly to Simon, peering over to make sure Jim hadn't awakened. The Sentinel had been asleep for a couple of hours, allowing his companions to get a few things done, Blair on the computer and Simon on his cell phone.
"Wouldn't sex just send her running in the opposite direction?"
"But what if she can't get what she wants?"
"Ellison playing hard to get isn't that difficult to picture, but can he really get her to desire him that much?" Although, he had heard rumors from Vice, well actually whines when Jim had transferred to Major Crimes, about the man's ability to attract.
Blair shrugged. "Apparently he provoked enough emotion in her to try to kill him."
"But she does that to every man she meets."
"Yes, but she kills them. With Jim, she used a third party."
"Because he works for Michael and she can't touch him?"
"Or because she doesn't want to touch him, not that way anyway. He was down as soon as he was hit on the head. She could have taken him right then. But she didn't."
Simon shook his head. ""I don't, can't, understand women. Guess that's why I'm divorced," he remarked just as someone knocked on the door. He hurried to open it before they could wake Jim.
Detectives Brown and Rafe stared at their commander-- a commander not in a suit, but a set of sweats...and white socks. "Cap...Captain Banks?" Brown finally managed to say.
"What? I can't relax like the rest of the world?" Simon groused and ushered them inside. "Ellison's asleep so be quiet and quick. What do you have for me?"
Rafe looked at his partner. Yep. It was definitely the captain. "The victim was William Baker, a businessman from Portland. He checked into the Towers two nights ago. A local company was considering hiring him and that's why he was in town. It seems his wife had divorced him and he was looking for a change."
"Well, he certainly got one, didn't he?" Simon said acerbically. "Anything on Whittaker?"
"We checked on his personal life like you asked, captain. His last girlfriend couldn't take that he was a cop, so she left him about six months ago. According to his friends, he isn't over her yet."
A lonely man-- the perfect target for Lilith. Still, he had to be weak for her to influence him so quickly. Gonna have to reevaluate his psych profile. "You gentlemen have steady women, don't you?"
"Captain?" came the startled, harmonized reply.
"Stop trying to analyze everything I say and answer the question!"
"Yes, sir. We both are in relationships," Rafe said quickly.
"Good. Make sure you stay close to your ladies tonight."
"Are they in danger, sir?" the dapper detective asked worriedly.
"No, you are. Don't ask. Just accept. Please."
The detectives looked at each other, then to Sandburg who was listening from the kitchen, and finally to Ellison asleep on the sofa. A light dawned in their eyes. This was one of those Ellison things. Should have known when dispatch told them the captain was at the loft. "Sure, captain," Brown said obediently.
Simon nodded and was about to dismiss them when the phone rang. Blair caught it before it could sound a second time. "Hello," he said softly, turning his back to the living room in deference to his sleeping partner. "T'Dette?...He's here but--" The phone was snatched from his hand.
"T'Dette? What's wrong?" Jim asked quickly. He'd been drifting in and out most of the evening, checking briefly to make sure everything was secure in the loft before heading off to sleep, only to awaken to check fifteen minutes later. He'd heard Brown and Rafe arrive and was about to drift off again when the phone rang. Hearing T'Dette's voice had spurred him to his feet. "When?...Who?...Damnit. She okay?...That's good...Yeah...Is she there?...Could I call her later?...Yeah, I know, but I just need to hear it for myself...Okay. Talk to you later."
"Jim?" Blair questioned softly. "Something happen to Flip?"
"Other than the fact that some son of a bitch reporter scared her half to death asking about her daddy? Maybe that wouldn't have been too bad if not for the fact the last time someone came around talking about me, she ended up drugged and kidnapped!" Jim pounded his fist against the wall below the phone. "Can you imagine how terrified she must have been? And poor T'Dette. Who the hell is Edgar Masden and why the fuck is he bothering my family!"
"Oh, shit," Simon mumbled. "There's been so much going on...."
"What is it, Simon? You've heard of this creep?" Blair asked.
"Yesterday, right after you guys left, your ex called, Jim. Earlier in the day she'd been contacted by a reporter asking questions about you. She refused to comment and hung up the phone, but the more she thought about it, she realized you should be made aware of him."
"Who is he?"
"A reporter for the Cascade Gazette."
"The what?" Rafe asked, reminding the others that he and his partner were still around.
"It's the county paper," Blair supplied. "Wonder if he was around yesterday morning?"
"Better question-- what the hell does he want?" Jim snarled angrily.
Simon figured they needed to talk alone. "When I heard about Masden, I called up Larry Jordan with the Cascadian. He works well with us and I was hoping those in the industry could police their own, so to speak. He was furious and said he'd see what he could do. But it doesn't look like much. Brown, Rafe, would you mind poking around for us, please? I know you're about off duty...."
"Messing around with Jim's little girl makes it personal, captain," Brown declared. "We'll let you know what we find. And Jim? Hang in there, man. If Flip is anything like her daddy, she'll be all right."
Jim nodded. "Thanks, H. But I'm planning on making sure she's all right."
"We hear you, man. If you need our help...." Rafe offered.
"Thanks." They left and Jim faced Simon. "So what is it that you didn't want them to know?"
"When you called in this morning, I'd just hung up from talking with Al Giardello out of Baltimore. Masden tried talking to the homicide squad, but no one would give him the time of day. Then a contact of Al's out at Jessup, one of Maryland's state pens, said Masden had been in to see Ronald Prescott."
"Damn," Blair groaned. "Baltimore, New Orleans.... He's putting it all together, man. What are we going to do?"
"Stop him," Jim said flatly. He twirled around looking for his wallet and got dizzy again. "I don't have time for this!" he yelled at himself. "Demons wanting my ass. Reporters wanting my ass. I don't need this!"
"You don't need to be falling on your ass either," Blair warned sternly. "Sit down, man."
"Sandburg, I don't have time to be coddled right now. Where the hell is my wallet!" Blair walked up to him and shoved. Thankfully, the sofa was there to catch him. "What the hell was that about, Sandburg!"
Blair towered over him, keeping him from getting back up. "That was about you being as weak as a damn kitten, man! You're no good to Flip or anyone in this condition."
"She picked one hell of a daddy, didn't she?" he asked bitterly. Their "relationship" had begun as a ruse to allow Jim into the emergency room with her, but somehow it stuck and had felt so right...until now. Until he was bringing more fear into her young life. He remembered the joy he'd felt shopping for her Christmas presents and just last month, he'd sent a package to New Orleans for her eighth birthday. Poor Philip Marie. One father who didn't care if she existed, and another who had contacts who cared too much.
"Yes, she did. I knew she was a bright child from the moment I lay eyes on her," Blair said, changing the context of Jim's words. He went over to the table where Jim's valuables lay, still in their E.R. envelope. "Here's your wallet, Jim. What are you planning to do?"
"Call Whitney."
Simon frowned and decided to reenter the conversation. He'd been content to stand back and watch how deftly Sandburg handled the larger man. But now he had to voice his concern. "Why don't you call Mike Rankin, Jim?" he said hesitantly, mentioning one of the New Orleans detectives they had worked with, who also just happened to be T'Dette's cousin. "Try local pressure first. I'm not sure there's anything the FBI can do. First Amendment, you know?"
Jim shook his head. "This Masden guy is closing in fast, Simon. He needs to be stopped cold. I'm sure Whitney will think of something to close him down. He wouldn't want to miss this opportunity," he added dryly. Jordan Whitney was the regional deputy director of the Bureau and Jim had worked with him on several occasions.
"What opportunity?"
"To have me owe him a favor."
The captain shook his head. "I owe you an apology, Sandburg," he said wearily.
"For?" Blair asked curiously.
"Blaming much of what's been going on in Jim's life on you. I see now he's perfectly capable of screwing up his life on his own."
Jim ignored both of them and reached for the phone. He was surprised to find his hand was trembling and he didn't know whether it was from exhaustion, or fear. If he was found out, his life would be hell. He'd thought being the Sentinel would be the biggest secret of his life, but that was nothing compared to what he could do now. He could picture all the religious fanatics who would be on his tail, half of them wanting to kill him for being some kind of false prophet or even the anti-Christ, and the other half wanting to deify him, bow at his feet and absorb his word as manna from heaven. But he didn't want to die and he didn't want to be worshiped. He wasn't worthy of that. What he was worthy of was being Michael's warrior, and having a following would definitely get in the way of that.
Even worse than being found out and mobbed was that his friends and family would become targets. Flip, Steven, his dad, the guys at the station.... And then there was Blair and Simon, the Warrior's trusted companions.... No! This Masden had to be stopped. Without any more hesitation, he dialed the number before him.
"I thought the mama lion-- I guess jaguar in this case-- was the one you had to fear when you went after the cub," Simon commented as he watched Jim bargain with Whitney. He couldn't hear what was being said from his position in the kitchen, where he and Sandburg had strategically retreated, but he could tell from the set of Jim's jaw and the flash of his eyes that some kind of deal was being cut.
"Depends on the papa jaguar, Simon," Blair said distractedly, still worrying over the reporter. "This is so not fair that Jim has to deal with this now. He almost died today and instead of having time to absorb that, he's trying to get some fucking reporter off his back. The son of a bitch harassed a little girl, man. Masden is not going to go down without a fight," he predicted angrily.
"If it's a fight he wants, he's picked the right target," Simon said menacingly. "None of us, Sandburg, are without resources, are we?"
Blair looked at the captain knowingly and they made a silent pact. They had pledged to protect the Sentinel and the Warrior . Now this reporter, and his potential story, were stirring dangerously close to their charge. Simon was a law-abiding officer, but that merely meant he was intimately familiar with non-abiding elements, and Blair had grown up with people who, if the light were shone at a particular angle, could be considered experts in domestic terrorism. Ah, yes, the reporter could, and would, be stopped.
"He will be," Jim declared, startling them not only with his presence in the kitchen, but with the accurate continuation of their thoughts. A new wrinkle in their three-way relationship perhaps? "Whitney's working on it immediately."
"What did you tell him?"
"That this man was harassing my family and friends."
"He didn't ask for details?" Simon asked warily.
"He knew it would do no good. By the way, captain, if I call you one night and tell you I'm going out of town suddenly, remember tonight, okay?"
Simon nodded solemnly. "Whatever it takes. Now, gentlemen, Papa Jag over here isn't the only one with a cub to worry about. I need to get home to Daryl. His basketball practice will be ending soon and I want to be there when he comes in. I already told him that there's been another Lilith-related murder, but I glossed over your experience, Jim. And if you don't mind, I think I'll keep it that way. The guilt is already eating him up."
"It's your call," Jim said agreeably. "Tell him that I personally said we're going to get this bitch."
"I'll give him your message," Simon said with a grin. The affirmation would make Daryl feel better about the part he'd played in this mess. "Where's my stuff, Sandburg?"
"Your shoes are out in the hall. The rest of your things I took downstairs to put in your car, then I figured it'd be just as easy to run them across the street to the cleaners. They'll be ready first thing in the morning."
"I'll pick them up when I stop by then."
"We'll bring them with us when we come in," Jim corrected. They stared at him. "I am not going to be stuck in this loft all day," he protested.
"Fine," Simon said, knowing there would be bigger arguments to fight before this was over, "but don't rush it, Jim. Sleep late and take your time. If another body shows up, the others can handle the scene. It's not like we're trying to identify the killer."
"No, we're just trying to stop her."
"And we're pretty close to knowing how that's done."
Jim glanced at them in confusion. "We are?"
Blair nodded excitedly. "Yeah, I made contact with Willow while you were sleeping."
Simon held up his hand. "I've already heard it, so I'll see you tomorrow. With my suit."
"Roger that, captain," Blair said, saluting impishly.
Simon just shook his head. "Take care, gentlemen."
"We will, Simon."
*****
When Cindy heard the shower stop in the room next to hers, she waited a few minutes, then tapped on the connecting door. Masden, loosely tying his robe, threw the door open and went back to rubbing his hair dry with a towel. When she sat on the bed without saying a word, he threw the towel down and looked at her. "What's the matter?"
She sighed and clasped her hands in her lap. "I just got off the phone with New York."
"Yeah? You gotta go back or something?"
"We both do. Edgar, they're shutting us down. We have to drop this investigation."
"What do you mean? You told them about this?"
She flinched at the accusation in his eyes. "No! I wouldn't have done anything like that without talking it over with you."
He cursed and sat down on the other corner of the bed. "I know you wouldn't. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I didn't tell them, but they knew."
"You think Larry Jordan turned us in? I know he was pissed when he tracked us down yesterday. But he's had all this time to investigate Ellison himself. Why hasn't he done so?"
"Maybe his publishers got to him too," Cindy pointed out. "This is serious, Edgar. The bosses told me very clearly that we are to stop investigating Jim Ellison and are to turn over any information we have to the FBI. They'll be here in the morning to pick it up."
"The FBI? What the hell is this?"
"Maybe we shouldn't have approached the child," Cindy hedged.
"We barely said five words to her before she started screaming for her mother! It's not our fault she's neurotic or something. You'd think with so many tourists in the area, she'd be used to being approached by strangers."
Cindy thought back to the afternoon. "She didn't freak until we mentioned Ellison. Maybe she's been conditioned to react that way. Maybe that's the way she protects him."
"Like they all protect him." Masden popped up to pace. "Why? What makes this man so special? For two days we've been trying to find out and so far we have nothing concrete. In fact, the more we learn, the more confused we become. First, we think he's a profiler. Then that killer, Prescott, says he's some kind of psychic who channeled his dead son. According to the stuff we got on his partner, he's some kind of genetically-altered android or something. Finally, we come here to New Orleans, and we discover what? That Ellison is some kind of voodoo priest or something, raising bones with a wave of his hand and some magic words? Just what kind of fucking alien are we dealing with!"
As the words echoed in the room, he looked at Cindy and she at him. "You don't think...." she began.
"Oh, shit! We have to get out of here, Cin," he said quickly, grabbing his suitcase. "If this is what we think it is, we don't want to be here when the FBI come. Or should I say, MIB?"
Chapter Twelve
"Fresh from the cleaners just like I promised," Blair said, as he and Jim entered the captain's office at 9:30 the next morning.
"How much?" Simon asked, reaching for his wallet.
"Not a problem," Blair said casually. "Jim paid."
"Ellison?"
"Think of it as prepayment for the headache you're going to have by the end of the day, sir," Jim said knowingly.
Simon grimaced and glanced at the clock. "I thought I told you guys to sleep in?"
"This is sleeping in for Jim," Blair complained. "You've spent enough nights at the loft to know how much of a morning person he is, Simon."
"Sandburg, when I spend the night at the loft, he usually doesn't sleep at all."
"Why, Simon, I wouldn't say that too loudly if I were you," Blair teased.
It took a second for the captain to get it. "Can't you control him!" he yelled at Jim.
The detective bit back a snicker. "I try, sir. But you have to admit, you stepped directly into that one."
"Well, it's been a long day for an old man," the captain said wearily.
"It's morning, Simon," Blair pointed out helpfully.
Simon looked at the anthropologist and knew it was a lost cause. Blair in a teasing mood was a force he knew he could not control. So, he appealed to his friend, the detective. "Jim, please. For all we've been through together, for all those fishing trips and afternoons off...."
Jim nodded sympathetically. "Sandburg, heel!" he ordered sharply.
"Woof," his partner replied sullenly.
"Don't make me roll up a newspaper," Jim threatened.
"Woof, woof."
Jim picked up a magazine that had apparently arrived with the captain's mail. Simon shut his eyes and groaned as the two "grown" men chased each other around his desk, one tossing out insults which were instantly countered by firm "woofs". The end of their antics came when Jim moved a bit too fast for his still recovering head.
"That's what you get for acting like a child," Simon chided, as he offered a couple of his precious aspirin, earning a glare from Blair who was taking his partner through an exercise designed to stop the current undulations of the floor. Oops. Never interrupt a Sentinel/Guide moment. Bad Watcher! "You two come up with anything useful in this case?" he asked, attempting a little normalcy.
"We need to try to get into Lilith's head, captain," Jim began, taking his seat and his partner following. "We want to study the victims and their locations to see if there is a pattern in all this. In order for me to seduce her, I'm going to need to know where to find her."
Simon looked at him. "You're still not comfortable with the idea, are you?"
He shook his head. "But not for the reasons you think. It's just.... Chief, earlier you said she steals semen to make her demon babies."
"The Lilim."
"Yeah, the Lilim." Jim focused on a particular patch on the wall, slightly off-color from the rest. Hmm. Wonder what someone was covering up? "What would happen if there were 'sentinel' Lilim?"
Because he found the wall so fascinating, he missed the identical looks of horror crossing his friends' faces. "If you mate with Lilith...." Blair began hoarsely.
"Exactly."
"Oh, shit, man. Plan A may need a bit refining. Uh, excuse me while I go--"
"Leave a message for Willow?" Jim guessed. "Just be careful how you phrase the question, Chief. If this person so eagerly feeds you information, she may be servicing others in the same way."
"Got it covered," Blair said as he left.
"Do the guys have the reports on the murders or do--" Jim stopped as Simon reached the files to him. He started to stand.
"Stay for a minute." Simon looked at the man settling back into the chair. "How you doing, Jim?"
Jim smiled at the concerned question. "I'm fine, Simon. You know how hard my head is and since I was on the floor, I didn't inhale too much smoke. And there were no burns."
"I know."
Jim detected a slight shudder weave through his friend. "How do you know, sir? Aside from the obvious?"
"Something was there in the room, protecting you and keeping the flames at bay. When I reached you, it just blended into the smoke."
"Probably the jaguar. He has powers.... Sandburg calls him my spirit guide, but I think there's more to him than that."
"Arson can't find a point of origin for the fire. One of the investigators confided it was as if someone had thrown up his arms and said, 'Abracadabra' and the fire began."
Jim shrugged. "That's probably what happened, Simon. Lilith can control fire."
"Another offering from your secret cache of Lilith lore?" the captain asked.
The detective grinned. His partner was going to love that one. "Actually, I got this from Sandburg's research. Something about Lilith being a beautiful creature from head to navel but a burning fire from navel to toe."
"Is she?"
The image of the naked Lilith filled his mind. "No. Navel to toe is pretty much as expected."
Simon regarded him with an appraising stare. "I'm going to ask you a question, and since Sandburg isn't here, I expect you to be completely truthful." A reluctant nod. "Did you sleep at all last night?"
"I thought I was doing a rather clever job of covering that up," Jim admitted sheepishly.
"You were with Sandburg. Somehow you've learned to...to reflect his energy? But I don't have any to spare so now that we're alone, there's nothing to reflect. Was it our current slate of problems that had you pacing the balcony, or has something new cropped up?"
"Isn't what we're facing already bad enough? Please don't bring anything new down of us, Simon," he warned. The saying, "speak of the devil and he will come" meant a lot more to him now than it used to.
"Getting superstitious on me, Ellison?" The question was accompanied by a smile. If Jim wasn't superstitious by now, he was a fool. "Heard from Whitney this morning?"
"Not a word. But then, there haven't been any reports of Masden bothering anyone either?" Simon shook his head. "Then I'm hoping for the best."
"We spend a lot of time doing that lately-- hoping," Simon observed.
"Remember the good ol' days when we were sure of everything? When hope was just a word we used and took for granted?" Jim asked wistfully. "Now, it's more than that. It's almost a living entity. It's as if I know hope personally, a shining light far more beautiful than Lilith will ever be. But hope is capricious and fickle...."
"Which is why we have faith, Jim," Simon reminded him gently.
A knock on the door interrupted them. Brown stuck his head in. "Sorry, captain, but we have another one."
Jim looked at the Watcher as they both stood. "Faith, Simon?"
"Faith, Jim."
*****
"This is useless!"
The whole Major Crimes bullpen flinched as they heard Ellison's voice. The tightly pressurized forces had been building all day, and everyone had been grateful that Sandburg was around to siphon off some of the steam. But they had known his partner was fighting a losing battle, and that eventually Ellison was going to blow. They were just hoping it would be after 5 o'clock, when they were safely at home.
"Ellison! Sandburg! In my office now!"
As one, the men and women of Major Crimes looked gratefully at their leader. In their opinion the office was bomb-proof. Ellison has exploded in there on several occasions without any casualties whatsoever. Well, maybe a coffee mug or two....
"Guess I don't have to ask if you've come up with anything," Simon began, not really having anything to say. But the pleading looks for relief from his unit couldn't be ignored any longer. Ellison was making everyone edgy.
"You would think with four dead men, there would be some kind of emerging pattern," Jim griped. "But there's nothing connecting these guys. Not a single one of them has a feature that would have attracted Lilith's attention."
Simon looked at Blair in confusion. "He hasn't figured it out yet?"
"Haven't figured out what!"
Those closest to the glass-encased office moved deeper toward the center of the bullpen as Ellison's voice penetrated through.
"I think he knows, but he's waiting to hear it confirmed by an outside source, which isn't likely because nobody is feeling particularly masochistic today," Blair said, pointedly ignoring the searing stare his partner sent in his direction.
"Is he too personally involved? Is he likely to jeopardize the investigation?"
"What I'm likely to jeopardize is your lives," Jim said between clenched teeth. "What is it that I've overlooked? What do I already know, but am too afraid to admit? What is it that I'm going to freak over?"
"Jim, this morning's victim?" Blair questioned, a hand coming to rest on his friend's shoulder.
"Robert Ashe," Jim replied obediently.
"Describe him for me."
"A little over six feet tall, short hair, muscular...." Blue eyes that stared up at the ceiling of his hotel room. "Shit," he said softly. "She went after him because he reminded her of me, didn't she?"
"That seems to be the prevailing theory," Simon replied. "I know what this must be adding to your guiltload, Jim, and I need to know if you can hold it together. This investigation means jack in the real scheme of things, but I have people to answer to. It has to appear that Major Crimes is doing it's best to stop these killings. I need reports to turn in and paperwork signed off on. Clues need to be sorted, ideas floated around, evidence examined and re-examined. This is what I need from my lead investigator. If you can't produce...."
Jim nodded tersely and left the office. His friends watched as he exited the bullpen. "That was rather harsh, wasn't it?" Blair accused.
Simon sighed. "Sandburg, this whole thing is about to blow up, okay? Four men are dead, for no apparently reason other than the fact they were men. The commissioner and the mayor are planning a news conference in the morning or sooner, depending on how much the press already knows. If Jim can't work the CPD investigation along with Michael's, I need to know. Because once the press knows the name of the lead investigator, it can't be changed without a lot of explanation. Jim knows this."
"And now he knows just how little confidence you have in him," Blair charged.
"I'm a police captain, Sandburg, not a damn anthropologist. I don't have the luxury of coddling one of my 'subjects' just because he's having a bad day."
"He's not a subject, damn it. He's my friend. And I thought he was yours too!"
"You think I'd put up with all this shit if he wasn't!" Simon took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes as he counted silently. He and Blair had no business being at odds with each other, not while all this other stress was being aimed at Jim. "Listen, kid, I wasn't trying to hurt his feelings or label him incompetent. He's carrying a lot, and dealing with the press, and the brass, on this investigation isn't going to be a walk in the park, especially since we all know that in the end we're going to have to come up with some crappy explanation that is going to be less than satisfactory to those groups. He's already not sleeping and--"
"What do you mean not sleeping?"
"From what I was able to deduce, he spent the night out on the balcony, probably searching for Lilith in one of his odd ways."
"He told you this?"
"As I said, I deduced it, Sandburg, but he didn't deny it."
"Damn," Blair sighed. "He was doing fine when I went to bed. He'd called Flip--"
"How is she? Daryl was about as mad as Jim when I told him about the reporter."
"She's fine. You know little kids-- resilient as hell," Blair said in wonder. "She was so excited about talking to Jim that I think she'd forgotten all about Masden by the time the conversation ended. She had to catch him up on everything that had happened since they talked on her birthday."
"And, of course, he listened to every word as if it were crucial testimony."
"Of course," Blair said with a smile. "He makes a good father."
"Wonders of wonders," Simon scoffed.
"Not really. He had a good role model."
Simon looked at Blair over the top of his glasses. "William Ellison?" he asked in disbelief.
"No. Simon Banks."
"Shit, kid," Simon said gruffly. "Why the hell does Ellison put up with you?"
Blair grinned, understanding the words Simon couldn't say. "You're welcome, captain."
Before the conversation could get any more sentimental, Jim returned. "SWAT just got a call. There's a hostage situation over at Booker Elementary."
"Wonder why I--" Simon stopped as his phone rang. He hung up quickly and walked to the door."Listen up! We have a hostage situation at Booker Elementary School. Let's roll." The duo behind him tried to slip past his imposing figure in the doorway. "Where do you think you two are going?"
"You can't expect me to sit this one out?" Jim asked incredulously.
Simon sighed. The Sentinel gifts would come in handy, but.... "No heroics, you hear me? You 'find' out anything, you come to me. I mean it, both of you. Ellison, you're on edge and you know it. Masden, Lilith, your daughter, the victim who resembled you.... Getting yourself killed won't solve anything, you know."
"I'll just feel the place out, Simon," Jim promised. "Scout's honor."
Simon shook his head. "Probably the only person in the place who could say that and mean it. What are you waiting for? Get out of here. I'll meet you there."
The two nearly ran past him, as if they feared he would change his mind. But there was no chance of that happening. Even if they didn't know it, he did...Sentinel and Guide had the Watcher firmly wrapped around their little fingers.
Shit. Who needed demons when he came up with thoughts like that on his own? With a chomp of his cigar, he picked up his jacket and did what was now eerily comfortable-- followed his favorite team into danger.
Back to What's New & What's Coming
Back to TVLIT 101
Back to Guide Posts
Back to Cascade Library