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Chapter Twenty-One
Blair didn't like the way they were touching. Jim's hand had guided Lilith into the small mountain cabin. Her hand had brushed against his as she surveyed those staring at her. He followed her closely as she stopped before Daryl and when she leaned back, his arms had naturally wrapped around her tiny waist.
"Why are you still shielding him from me?" Lilith asked her lover. "You know I cannot hurt those under your protection." Jim whispered something in her ear and she nodded. "I wronged you, Daryl Banks, but I will not ask for forgiveness. Instead, I offer you this: from this day forth, you and yours have nothing to fear from Lilith and that which is Lilith's."
Daryl looked at Jim, who nodded encouragingly. The teen relaxed into a surprised hug from his dad. Lilith continued her perusal of the occupants of the cabin. "You were foolish children, playing with powers you should leave to those who can handle them. I thank you for my freedom, but I warn you never to attempt such an action again." She gave them a stern glare, breaking it only when she felt them accept her warning.
Another step and she was in front of Blair, who returned her stare with one of his own. What the hell had happened between his Sentinel and this thing? It was obvious that they had slept together, but it seemed to have been much more than that. Had Lilith somehow bewitched the Warrior?
"The opposite, Blair Sandburg," Lilith said as the others moved to light the candles. "I am the one bewitched."
"You can read my mind?" he asked defensively.
"Surely, if I can enter it, I can read it," she said indulgently, as if explaining to a child.
"Be nice," Jim prompted.
"I don't need a demon to be nice to me, Jim," Blair argued sharply. He looked around. How long did it take to light a candle, damn it?
"But I will be nice. My master orders it."
"I am not your master," Jim bristled, not wanting to be compared to Adam, who thought her no better than the animals rooting in the Garden.
"Whatever minuscule piece of heart I have, you own, my love. Therefore, you are my lord, and that is the way I wish it to be," Lilith declared. She looked at Blair. "He says you have given him a great gift, and I say you have been given a greater one. Take care of him."
That shook Blair for a moment. This demon bitch was lecturing him about caring for Jim? "I know what I've been given. How do you know?"
"Because evil recognizes good as easily as darkness recognizes light. Your partner, as you call him, is of Heaven, because surely one such as he could not have sprung from the loins of Adam. He is to be cherished and protected."
"Lilith," Jim began uneasily.
"No, love. I don't have much time left. Please, let me have my say before I am banished." He stepped back slightly, hearing a hint of desperation in her plea. "You are his chosen caretaker, you and the tall dark one." A hand casually waved in Simon's direction. "You have a great responsibility. I cannot help but see your heart is up to the challenge, at the moment. Make sure it stays that way. He has given you his trust. If you betray it, I will destroy you." Eyes, once dark, flashed a red warning.
"If I betray it, I will destroy myself," Blair countered with equal determination.
She bowed graciously, recognizing his words for the oath they were. "Forgive me. I should have known he had chosen wisely. If he ever has need of me, you have only to contact me. I have powers that can transcend the mirror if I so choose. These powers are his to command."
"Because he commands you?"
She shook her head. "Because I love him."
"We're ready," Simon informed them.
Lilith nodded and walked toward the mirror. When Jim moved to follow, she halted him with her hand. "No goodbyes. I will always be watching you, Jim Ellison. From the sky above on the darkest nights, from inside your heart when it is hurting. And I will also warn other demons of your presence."
"To protect me?"
"To protect them." She smiled and faced her reflection in the mirror. "Begin," she ordered.
"Serif ruo hcneuq dna emoc. Elcric cigam eht fo neeuq, su ot emoc..." As the ritual unfolded, the silvery mirror wavered as if liquid. With a final glance at the man who had given her what she had craved her whole existence, respect, Lilith stepped through the fluid, and the mirror reverted back to the simple reflection it was.
"That's it?" Simon asked as the chanting stopped.
"That's it," Blair said and turned to his partner. "You okay, man?"
"I'm fine, Chief. Just a bit tired."
"Probably lack of sleep, big guy. Let's get you home."
"Maybe you'll feel better with your energy back," Daryl offered. "I don't need the shield anymore."
"You're comfortable with me removing it?" Jim asked worriedly. As far as he was concerned, the kid could keep it until he was thirty-five if he needed it.
He nodded. "She's gone and besides, she promised she wouldn't hurt me again."
"Don't trust the promises of a demon, son," Simon cautioned.
Daryl shrugged. "She may be a demon, Dad, but not the same one who came from that mirror, is she, Jim? You changed her, somehow."
"She changed herself. I only gave her the tools to do so. But you're right; she won't harm you again." With a wave of his hand, Jim released the energy, allowing it to flow to its rightful place.
"Now what?" Teo asked.
"Now, we clean up this place and we work out a Community Service project for each of you," Blair declared. He, Jim, and Simon had agreed that not punishing the teens would send the wrong message."
"Think I could work with little children?" the erstwhile Main Operator asked timidly.
Blair smiled. "I'm sure we can work something out, Shannon. Let's take care of these candles, first."
"I shouldn't have doubted you," Simon said softly as Blair led the kids away.
"Yes, you should have, sir. I didn't exactly follow the rules," Jim admitted.
"Hell, Jim, when have you ever?" the captain said with a laugh. He stopped in mid-chuckle as his cell phone sounded. "Banks...Yeah? Where?... Okay, we're on our way." He snapped the phone closed. "You get all that?" he asked the Sentinel.
Jim nodded and called to Blair. "Come on, Chief. Rafe just called with some interesting news."
"What's that, Jim?"
"Seems he and his partner just found our serial killer."
*****
"What's going on, Jim?" Blair asked as the truck bumped along the narrow country road.
"I don't know. It seems a body was discovered and something on the scene makes it appear that it's the killer."
"You don't think Lilith has anything to do with this, do you?"
Jim thought back to the time Lilith had left. "I don't know, Chief. I'll have to wait until I get there."
"Jim?"
"Yeah?"
Blair figured if he got too personal, Jim would let him know. "You sleep with Lilith?"
Jim focused on the captain's taillights ahead of them. "Yes."
"To win her submission?" He had thought it kind of funny that Jim would be so reluctant to seduce Lilith. Then he began to understand that such a seduction was akin to extortion, blackmail, coercion in the worst way. That was so not Jim.
"No. That she gave willingly. I never asked her for it."
"Why?"
"Why did she give it, or why didn't I ask her?"
"Both," Blair said quickly before Jim retracted the offer to answer.
"She told me it was her gift to me."
"For services not rendered?"
"Exactly."
Exactly what? Let's try another tactic. "Why didn't you ask her to submit to you?"
"I don't do that anymore," Jim replied tersely.
"Don't do what anymore?" Curiouser and curiouser.
"Use my body to manipulate people."
The picture began to clear. "Like in Vice?"
"Like in Vice. Like in Covert Ops. Couldn't do it, Chief. Not even for Michael."
Holy shit. The man had bucked a direct edict from an archangel? "Uh, but you got the job done and that's all that matters, right?"
"I guess."
He guessed? Damn it. He didn't even want to think of the possibility that they could be in a fight with Hell and Heaven. But Jim was a soldier for Michael, and soldiers followed orders. What was Heaven's equivalent of a court martial? Would there be a trial or just a sentencing stage? How did a mortal argue a case to an immortal? Maybe he better start studying up on that, just in case. No way he'd let Jim tackle something like that on his own. Uh uh. Simon would help too, of course. And Lilith had made that offer at the end. Did she suspect Jim was in trouble for not seducing her? Wait a minute. If he hadn't seduced her.... "Why did you sleep with Lilith?"
"We were both consenting adults."
O...kay. "You were careful?"
"I was responsible."
Stupid question, Sandburg. The man was born responsible. Have condom, will travel. But to his knowledge, Jim hadn't done all that much "traveling". He usually had to feel something first-- maybe not love, but deep like at least. So, did this mean he felt something for Lilith? Was that what all the touching was about? The sadness in his voice? And Lilith had been quite blunt about it. "I love him," she had said. No, no, no. What was this? "Jim, man, you have these powers now, you know? So you have to be careful about what you say, what you do. You and Lilith...the two of you didn't perform a ritual or anything, did you?" he asked anxiously.
Jim chuckled. "Think I sold my soul to Lilith, Chief?"
"No! Of course not, Jim. I just think--"
"You think too much, Sandburg. I'm a man, Lilith's a woman. It was just that basic."
"Lilith is not a woman, Jim. She's a demon or goddess or whatever the hell you want to call her. But she is not a woman."
"But she was," Jim said softly. "She was the first woman, Chief, and no one ever respects her for that."
"But you."
"But me." He stopped behind Simon, adding his flashing lights to the ones already surrounding the apartment building. "Can we table this discussion for now?"
"It's your dime, man." He followed his partner into one of the apartments, where Brown and Rafe met them.
"Ramona Watson. Age 32. The super found her with her wrists slit in the bathroom. He'd come to replace a burner in her stove," Rafe reported.
Jim smelled the blood and clicked the scent down. "What makes you think she's our perp?"
"Another love letter to you, Ellison," Brown replied, handing him a sheet of stationary wrapped protectively in plastic.
"Dear Det. Ellison: I feel you now. Everywhere I go, every time I consider renewing my mission, I know you are there watching, and I can't do it. My purpose was never evil. I merely wanted to cleanse the earth of men who broke promises, men who cheated on loved ones, men who would take advantage of a woman just because she knocked on their door. But I can't do that anymore because you are watching. Therefore, my life is worth nothing. It is best that it ends."
Jim looked up from the note. "Anything else that links her?"
Rafe nodded. "We found a paralyzing agent in the bathroom. Forensics is expecting a match with the residue found on the first victim."
"This is it, then?" Simon questioned.
"Appears to be, captain," Rafe said. "We'll finish up and give you a written in the morning, if that's okay?"
Simon nodded. "Good job, gentlemen. Guess Cascade can sleep again tonight." He looked around. "Where's your partner, Sandburg?"
"Taking a look at the body." His eyes spoke volumes.
"Oh. I'm heading out to let the mayor and commissioner know the situation has been resolved. I'll meet you both outside."
"Yes, sir."
Simon had just finished his call as the two exited the building. He indicated they should get in the car. "Well? Was this Lilith's parting shot?"
"It was a suicide, captain," Jim said, his relief evident to a certain Guide. "Dan Wolfe should find that the woman has been dead about three hours. However, Lilith is responsible for the note."
"Why?"
"Because she was protecting Jim," Blair replied before his partner could. "She knew there would be questions, and so she arranged for there to be answers."
Simon looked at them skeptically. "Why would she care?"
Jim quietly got out of the car.
The captain blinked at the sudden departure. "Explain, Sandburg," he demanded.
"You protect the ones you love, Simon. Lilith loves Jim."
"She what?" Simon didn't even bother to turn around to see Blair nodding his head. "Shit. And I worried he was going to have trouble merely seducing her. Just tell me the opposite isn't true?"
"I have no idea." But he did. That little show of relief told him things Jim never would.
Simon looked in the rearview mirror and with the help of the still flashing lights, saw the figure leaning over the steering wheel, slightly lost, too much alone. "Take him home, Sandburg. I'll call with details about what, and when, we're going to tell the press."
Blair slid out of the back of the car and walked over to the driver's side of the truck. "Slide over," he ordered.
"You were shot in the shoulder a couple days ago, remember?"
"And I'll feel more comfortable with me driving one-armed, than worrying when you're going to zone." He jerked the door open. "Move over."
"Been mainlining more of that tyrant juice?" Jim muttered, even as he obeyed.
Blair ignored him and started the engine. "Simon said he would call about the finishing touches on the case."
"Okay."
He moved the gears into drive, then turned to look at his partner. "You thought Lilith may have killed this woman in order to pin the murders on her?"
"As you're so fond of reminding me, she's a demon, Sandburg. Anything is possible."
"But that would have basically meant she would have murdered in your name?"
"Yes." He was shocked at how much the thought of Lilith betraying him had hurt.
"Jim?" Blair pulled out and headed for home.
"Yeah, Chief?"
"You can't talk about my dates anymore, man."
"Understood, Chief."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cindy Hartwell flagged a cab and wearily slid inside. The red-eye flight from New York to Cascade had been draining. But it had been worth it, just to get out of New York. Edgar's associates inexplicably had treated her as Edgar's grieving widow, and while the grieving part was accurate, they hadn't been nearly as close as everyone assumed. She blamed herself for that; maybe she hadn't been pretty enough for him...or aggressive enough. Anyway, she had suffered through the unwanted attention of his friends until the lawyer had called. Said he wanted to talk to her about Edgar's will. A will in which he'd left all his worldly goods to her.... As soon as she'd hung up, she called the airport. She had to get away...and there was only one place she could go.
On the plane, she finally felt as if she could breathe. At first, she thought her main problem was going to be keeping it together during the long flight. She kept remembering being on the plane with Edgar, how eager he'd been as they flew to each city in search of another piece of the puzzle that was Jim Ellison. That was the way she would always think of him; eager, ready to sniff out the latest story. Okay. Maybe it wasn't great that he was murdered, but at least he'd died doing what he did best: working.
"Where to?" the cabbie asked, hitting the meter.
"Cascade Police Department-- Central Precinct."
The cabbie's eyes flew to his rearview mirror. He took in the haggard appearance, the wrinkled suit, and the briefcase bulging at the seams. Ah. Not a criminal or someone with some bad ass chasing them. Just another underpaid public official. A dirty job, but someone had to do it. Sympathetically, he turned the meter off. He had special fares for her type.
*****
"Well, that's it, Jim," Simon was saying as he and his lead detective walked into the station at the end of the press conference. "It's all signed, sealed, and delivered. Case closed, my friend."
"And there's not a happier person on earth," Jim swore, as he turned his head to the side, trying to ease a tight muscle. Maybe if he cooked dinner tonight, he could convince Sandburg to massage his neck. Nah. A massage wasn't going to ease the tension he was feeling. Nothing was going to ease until Michael contacted him. He'd kept waiting all night for the brands to disappear, a sure sign that he'd been "relieved of duty", pending further action. So far, the marks remained.
"Detective Ellison?"
He looked around to see a petite woman, pulled to one side by the weight of a leather satchel. Her brown hair was slightly mussed and her eyes were rimmed in red. "Yes?"
She reached out a hand. "My name is Cindy Hartwell. I was Edgar Masden's research assistant."
Instantly, Jim and Simon were on guard. "I'm sorry for your loss," Jim said curtly, "but I have nothing to say to you."
"But I have something to say to you, sir, and I promised Edgar, Mr. Masden, if anything happened to him, I would come to you. I keep my promises, detective, even to dead friends," she said solemnly.
There was nothing Jim could say to that but, "Come with me upstairs."
"Use my office, Jim," Simon said as they walked into Major Crimes. "I need to check a couple of things with Rhonda."
"Thanks, sir." He led the woman into the office and motioned her into a chair as he headed for the coffeepot. "Cream or sugar?" he asked as he grabbed a couple of cups.
"Both, please." She sipped the hot brew gratefully. "Thank you. I needed this."
"I know."
Cindy's eyes flew to the concerned blue ones staring at her. "Edgar was murdered."
"The autopsy report says it was an accidental overdose of an illegal drug."
"You saw the report. Why?"
Jim shrugged. "I was aware Mr. Masden was making inquiries into my life. Therefore when he died, I made note of it."
Cindy focused on the coffee remaining in the cup. "Edgar was no longer doing drugs nor alcohol. He had been clean for months. But his former excesses were not unknown. If I were planning to murder someone with his history, I too would have chosen this method."
"Are you confessing, Ms. Hartwell?"
She smiled and the coffee wavered in her hand. "Only that I aided and abetted him in the story that got him killed."
"Which was?"
"You."
Jim was taken aback. "Excuse me?"
"I want you to know that in hindsight, Edgar saw he was wrong. He was planning on coming to you, and handing over all his research. That's why he was back in Cascade. Why he didn't come to you straight from the airport...." She shook her head.
"Two nights ago?" She nodded. "I was in the hospital with my partner."
"Is Mr. Sandburg all right?"
It startled Jim that she knew Blair's name. But then, she knew just about everything about him. "Yes, he's fine now. What was Masden wrong about?"
"He realized that your story was one that shouldn't be told. You were too valuable to be exposed."
"Valuable?"
"Your abilities are sorely needed, detective. Edgar finally got it that what you did, outweighed the public's right to know," Cindy replied earnestly.
"My abilities?" Jim frowned. "What abilities exactly?"
Cindy struggled to lift the satchel from the floor. Jim reached out to help and she shoved the whole thing into his lap. "This is all of it, sir. Every scrap of evidence. Every note. Every theory. I heard Edgar's copies weren't with him when he died?"
"No." Rafe and Brown had found nothing.
"Then I guess his killer took them."
"That's the part I'm not understanding, miss. Why do you think he was killed because of me? Or do you think I'm the one who killed him?"
"No. I'm sure you're innocent." He frowned. There was that innocent word again. Why the hell was everyone associating it with him? She saw the frown and thought it was a sign of confusion. "You really don't know, do you? Edgar thought they might be keeping it from you."
"Keeping what from me? And who are 'they'?" Jim asked in exasperation. The woman's steadfast belief in what she was saying was getting to him. Sometimes having the ability to tell if people were lying or not could be strangely disconcerting.
Before Cindy could answer, Simon came in. "Sorry to interrupt. The Chief wants to see me about a budget request." He snatched a file off his desk and flipped through it. The department, whether right or wrong, used the budget as an incentive for its workers. Make the police look good, your requests go to the top of the list; screw up and you may as well start bringing paper clips from home. Hmm. At the rate his unit was going, he was going to have to start a bigger wish list.
"No need to apologize, captain. It is your office," Jim reminded him.
"Since when?" Simon muttered. Between briefing Ellison and Sandburg, debriefing Ellison and Sandburg, or Ellison and Sandburg hiding away to deal with some sensory problem, the captain spent precious few minutes in his office alone. Quite frankly, it didn't even seem strange that Ellison was holding a private conference in the office without him. Speaking of.... "Everything okay, detective?"
"Yes, sir. Ms. Hartwell was just sharing some information with me. If there is anything of importance discussed, I will report to you later."
Simon nodded, figuring the reporting would be done at the loft. "Carry on, then." He put the file beneath his arm and shut the door firmly behind him.
"He's one of the lucky ones."
"Lucky?"
Cindy nodded. "He knows and is allowed to live."
Jim had had enough. "You will explain that comment right now!"
She gulped at the sudden ferociousness on his face. Then she realized it was that strength which was going to keep her alive. "There are people out there, detective, who would do anything to keep your secret-- even murder."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Simon sauntered into his office-- a spring in his step due to the success of his meeting with the Chief of Police-- and stopped, instantly on alert. For one second, he thought about calling a forensics team, then noticed the still figure in the midst of the chaos and decided to make a different call. He stuck his head out into the bullpen, keying in on a voice just now coming down the hall. "Sandburg," he said simply as the anthropologist walked in with Joel.
Blair didn't comment, merely rushed into the office instead. There was a note in Simon's voice that told him the Watcher was asking for the Guide, and that meant the Sentinel was in trouble. More words were unnecessary. Just as Simon had stopped upon seeing the room, so did Blair. It looked as if a hurricane had swept through the office, blowing papers, folders, and assorted debris around. But if it was a hurricane, the eye remained. Carefully stepping over or around, Blair made his way to his partner's side.
"Jim, you with us, man?" he asked tentatively. He didn't think the Sentinel had zoned, but Jim hadn't reacted to the presence of Watcher nor Guide.
"Just debating whether I should be laughing or crying, Chief." He blinked and suddenly noticed the damage surrounding him. "Sorry, captain. Things got a little intense." He started to gather the contents of Cindy's briefcase, actually his now.
"The reporter?" Simon asked.
"What reporter?" Blair demanded. He loved working at the university, but sometimes the hours spent there left him out of the loop here.
"Masden's assistant."
"You let him meet with this person alone?" the Guide asked the Watcher accusingly.
"He was in a police station, and outweighed her by a hundred pounds. I thought he was safe," Simon said helplessly. Damn, the kid could get scary when his partner was threatened.
"I was safe," Jim announced. "Apparently I'm a hell of a lot safer than I ever knew."
"What does that mean?" Simon asked quickly.
"It means, according to the information Masden found, that I'm being protected by some outside faction, a faction willing to kill so my secret won't get out."
"What secret?"
"That I'm an alien."
Blair's fear melted to laughter. "As in 'phone home', Jim?"
Jim nodded, sweeping his arm around the mess sprawled about the room. "You should read some of this stuff, Chief. Written the right way, and from what I hear Masden was a master at what he did, the idea could have sold. After all, it would explain the amazing things I can do."
"So Jim Ellison is a spaceman?" Blair was still highly amused.
"No. Jim Ellison is dead. He died in a helicopter crash in Peru. That's when I assumed his identity."
The humor was suddenly gone. "This is fucking fiction, man. Why the hell were you about to zone on it?" Blair protested angrily.
"Cindy Hartwell says Masden didn't overdose. He was murdered."
"By whom?" Simon asked.
"By this faction, who for want of a better name, Masden called the MiB's."
"The Men in Black?" Blair scoffed. "We saw the movie, Jim. The police for Earth's alien community. The reporter was apparently on drugs all along, man."
"The person who took these notes and made these interviews wasn't high, Chief. His interpretation was off, but not his logic skills."
"What about this is rubbing you wrong, Jim?" Simon asked, knowing his detective wouldn't be freaking about this unless something in the mess rang true to him.
"According to the toxicology tests on Masden, the only drug in his system at the time of death was the heroin. That seems a little strange for an addict, don't you think?"
"What else?"
"Masden had this same set of material with him. Where is it?"
"Damn." Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. "This Hartwell woman wants you to investigate his death?"
Jim rubbed a hand across his face. "No. She came here to get my protection. She's afraid she's next on the list."
"Where the hell did they come up with this cockamamie theory anyway?"
Blair looked up from the papers he'd scanned. "Harold Reagan died mysteriously in his holding cell. Helaire Delacroix died mysteriously in prison. Dr. Anthony Bozeman has mysteriously disappeared."
"As if we would care if someone took out that son of a bitch," Simon snarled. "We know exactly what happened to Reagan and Helaire."
"And the MiB theory makes a hell of a lot more sense, captain," Jim pointed out. Reagan's conscience had been attacked by the forty-two children he'd murdered and Helaire...Helaire had made a deal with the devil and hadn't delivered. Yeah. MiBs were a lot easier to believe.
"Where is this woman now?"
"In a room at the Cascade Towers. She's scheduled to go back to New York tomorrow."
"And she's just going to go? What about her fear?"
"I took care of it."
"You took care.... Another magick orb, Jim?" Blair asked. "Man, you can't be sending off little parts of yourself like that."
"And how much of myself would I lose if Cindy Hartwell is murdered?" Jim countered. He rubbed at his uninjured temple.
"You have a headache?" Blair asked worriedly. "Is it the concussion? Because I know your senses haven't caused one since you found the Lost Ones in the bayou."
Jim shrugged. "Maybe Alicia's power is wearing off early."
"That's not it, man." Blair looked at Simon, who silently told him to continue. "Jim, Alicia's power is not going to wear off. It's a permanent gift. The enhancements will always be with you."
"How do you know?"
Blair let out the breath he was holding. No explosion so far. That was good. "Alicia wrote me a letter." He reached into his backpack and found it in one of the zippered pockets.
"You carry it with you?" Simon asked, even as he wondered why Sandburg's behavior still puzzled him. Weird was always the word of the day with the young man.
"I felt that was my penance for keeping a secret; I had to carry my guilt with me." He focused on Jim who read the letter and handed it back to him.
"Guess Alicia got to know me real well, didn't she? She was right, you know. I would have rejected her legacy." He gave a sad smile. "She would have grown into a hell of woman."
Frantic glances were exchanged. "Uh, Jim, now that you know the truth, how do you feel?"
"Relieved, Simon. I would have...missed the enhancements."
Relieved? Missed? No! Jim was supposed to be furious. I have not hauled around all this guilt for nothing! "How do you feel about us, Jim? I've known since we got back from New Orleans and I told Simon the night we watched The Lion King," Blair challenged.
"It's okay, Chief. If anyone knows me better than Alicia, it's you." He finished picking up his litter. "Wonder what we should do with all this? Maybe I better get a larger safe deposit box at the bank."
It was okay? All this time spent worrying, and it was okay? What the hell was the man talking about? "If anyone knows me better than Alicia, it's you." Yeah, right. Maybe Masden knew what he was talking about when he called you an alien, man.... Masden. Shit. "What about the copies Masden had? What if this woman is wrong and whoever murdered him isn't protecting Jim, but spying on him? What if he's gathering information to blackmail you, man?"
"Then he killed for nothing, Chief. If I wouldn't compromise myself for an archangel, I'm sure as hell not going to do it for a mere mortal," Jim said firmly.
"That's it," Simon said sharply. "We need beer, gentlemen. And lots of it."
"Uh, it's the middle of a workday, sir," Jim reminded him, although the idea sounded perfect.
Simon stalked over to the door. "Joel, come here a minute, please." He made sure all the evidence had disappeared into the briefcase before letting the man in. "Can you take over for me this afternoon? I, we, need to get out of here."
Joel surveyed the tense group in front of him. "Sure, Simon. See you in the morning." The three men picked up their things and left. A minute later, Joel called Rafe, Brown, and Zack into the office. "Pay up."
Grumbling, they good-naturedly made good on their bet. When the captain had called Sandburg into the office, Zack had said Jim would leave on a stretcher. Brown had disagreed and bet that the captain would send the two men home. Joel used his knowledge of the men to put his money on all three leaving. Rafe had gone out on a limb, and made the wild suggestion that everyone would emerge from the office and go back to work. That one was definitely a longshot.
"So?" one of them asked as they looked at each other. "Any bets about tomorrow morning?"
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cindy Hartwell spent the night crying, cursing, smiling, then finally just thinking. She had cried for the loss of her beloved Eggie, cursed herself for not telling him her true feelings for him, smiled as she remembered the times they shared, and thought about what to do with her life now that he was no longer in it.
She had been truly content to do Eggie's research, Eggie's legwork, Eggie's typing, but she wasn't looking forward to doing it for someone else. Talking to Ellison had assured her of a long and healthy life; how she knew this, she didn't know. All she knew was that she had looked deeply into the blue eyes, placed her hands in his, and peace had descended. Abso-fucking-lutely amazing, her Eggie would have said and he would have been so right.
Cindy had left the detective with the research and checked into the hotel. She had gone directly to bed, waking only after eleven hours of straight sleep. Hence, the ability to watch the sun rise over Cascade without a single yawn. Now it was time to check out and she felt strangely unencumbered as she walked out to the street with only an overnight bag, and a letter of resignation, hastily typed on a computer in the hotel's "Business Services" room. The letter went into a mailbox and she got into a cab. Eggie's body had been shipped to his hometown of Asheville, North Carolina. He'd talked about the city on occasion. Sounded like a nice place, and she really didn't think he'd mind if she went to keep him company there. Maybe she'd write that novel he was always talking about. Dedicate it to him. He'd like that. She'd like that.
It was time she did something she liked.
*****
Jim surveyed the familiar desert setting with something akin to relief. Finally. He turned to face the being he felt approaching.
"What do you have to say in your defense?"
Ah. No haggling here. Just directness. Good. "Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"I have nothing to defend."
"You had your orders."
"Yes."
"You disobeyed them."
"Yes."
"Yet you say you have nothing to defend? Explain."
"I got the job done. Lilith is back where she belongs."
"That is not the point," Michael argued. "You were given directions you did not follow."
"I was given directions that I *could* not follow."
"You *chose* not to follow."
"I *chose* to be the man I became here in this place. I thought that was the man *you* had chosen. If it wasn't, I'm sorry. As I told Lilith, I am through changing who I am."
"'As you told Lilith.'," the archangel repeated scornfully. "Lilith is a demon."
"I know that, sir."
"Then why did you show her respect?"
"At first, I was merely respecting myself. I could not do what you wanted me to do."
"At first? What about later, soldier? Later, you allowed her to leave, without regard to what she might do during that time. She could have committed a series of horrors in the mere minutes she was gone. But you *trusted* her, a demon."
"A woman, created as I was created."
"A woman once, but now a demon."
"Who did not betray the trust I handed her."
"She cannot be redeemed. It is too late," Michael said sternly. Who would have thought this particular human would be so naive?
"I thought it was never too late," Jim replied softly.
Michael opened his mouth, then closed it. His eyes widened, then relaxed. "Outmaneuvered by a mortal," he said in disbelief. "I'll never hear the end of this one, you know. The Seraphim never know when to let something go.... It seems we were fighting different battles, Jim. I fought to contain a demon. You fought to find a soul."
"And save my own," the mortal interrupted quietly.
The archangel smiled. "I was warned this was going to be an humbling experience." He shook his head as he tried to figure out where he'd gone wrong. "I think my major problem is that I think too much like an angel, a higher angel that is. We dispense mercy without thought, Jim, and that makes our compassion a sham. We also have forgotten what hope is. We have all that we need; we forget there are others who require more, who 'hope' for more." He looked at the human who had redeemed him from the fall he was about to take. If only Lucifer had had such a good teacher.... "Come. Walk with an old general, Jim. Impart your human wisdom to me."
Human wisdom? Suuure. "Okay. That'll take care of the raising of the right foot. After that, you're on your own, I'm afraid."
Michael laughed and clasped him on the shoulder. "I love that sense of humor of yours."
Jim smirked. *Take that, Sandburg.*
*****
Blair stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom. Then he blearily made it to the kitchen, hoping beyond hope Jim was already up and had coffee ready. After an entire afternoon and night of drinking everything-- but coffee-- the caffeine would be a welcome relief. He peered into the coffeepot and found it empty. Damn. Was Jim still asleep? He forced his feet to carry him out to the living room so he could check the loft. That was when he saw the figure out on the balcony. The remains of the alcohol quickly left his system.
"Should I panic?" he asked as he passed through the door.
"Too late. You're heart's already racing," Jim informed him. "Good morning, Chief."
"Is it? Is it a good morning, Jim?" He waited for the answer, thinking that if Jim thought his heart was racing before, he was really getting an ear-full now.
"It's a very good morning." Blair padded over to his partner's side. "Keep wearing those socks outside and they're going to be unsalvageable. Why don't you ever wear slippers?"
Blair looked down at his feet. "This is as domesticated as I come, Jim." He raised his eyes to look at his fully dressed Sentinel. The man appeared more well-rested than he had in days, but that wasn't possible. He'd had just as many beers as he and Simon, and the captain had had to call a cab to take him home. Then he noticed the bruise on Jim's temple was gone. "You've been with Michael."
"Yes."
"You in trouble?"
Jim shook his head. "Thanks to your influence, I was able to talk my way out of any potential problem."
"Glad I could be of help."
"You're always 'of help' to me, Chief. Never doubt that," Jim professed. "I know I don't talk to you enough, and I don't inform you right away when I discover I can do something new, and--"
"There are more 'and's? Geez, Jim. How out of touch am I?"
"Not very, Chief. I'll catch you up, and then I'll try to make sure you're never behind again."
"Scout's honor?" Blair teased, knowing Jim's word was promise enough.
"Scout's honor. And in respect of that pledge, I need to show you something." He pulled his sweater over his head to bare his arms.
Blair's eyes widened when he saw something was scripted above each brand. "What is that? An archaic form of Hebrew, perhaps?" He felt the top of his head for his glasses but realized they were still in his bedroom. "Can you interpret it, Jim?"
He nodded and pointed to his right arm. "Strength of mind." Then he read his left. "Conviction of heart. Michael says it is a reminder to himself that one must have both to achieve a pure victory. If not, then victory comes at a cost."
"I understand," Blair said as he traced the odd lettering. "The heart must believe in order to guide the mind. The mind must be strong in order to follow the heart's directions."
"Sounds like a Sentinel/Guide pair I know," Jim said. "Now, go take your shower before we're late for work."
"What's the hurry? Simon's probably moving a bit slow this morning himself. Has he come for his car yet?"
"Nah."
Blair, heading back inside, looked at Jim. "And you would know, wouldn't you?"
"I would know," Jim agreed.
"Eight to nine p.m., daily." Blair mentally cleared his schedule.
"What?"
"That's when we're going to talk, Jim. Every day. We're going to sit down and you're going to tell me every sense you used during the day and how you used it."
"Come on, Chief, you can't be serious," Jim argued. A daily report. No way.
"You owe me, Jim."
"Yeah, but--" Blair crossed his arms and Jim gave up the argument, knowing he had neither strength of mind nor conviction of heart to continue it. "Eight to nine. But if we're working...."
"I can be flexible. We can move the time up or back. But it will be an hour a day. Got it, Sentinel?"
"Got it, Guide."
"Good. And you can be the one to tell the Watcher he's included too."
"No way."
"Yes way."
"Come on, Chief."
"Wuss."
"Geek."
"Friend."
"Best friend."
Blair relented. "We'll tell him together."
Jim sighed and draped an around his partner's neck. "Together is what we do best, Chief."
"Hey, Jim?"
"Yeah."
"It is a good morning."
"Told you so."
*****
Tony Bozeman swallowed a handful of pills, chased them with a shot of whiskey, then sat back to watch his tidy bonfire spit and crackle on the cold Cascade ground. Every so often, when the fire ran into the chemical-filled plastic of the microcassettes and computer disks, the flames would leap higher and give off a dazzling display of colors. Very nice.
How dare that reporter try to interfere! Didn't he understand the future was a delicate balance, its scales easily tipped? Now that he had finally come to understand what was to be, it was his duty to make sure it unfolded properly. How had someone put it..."prepare ye the way", that was it. Maybe the unknowing would call him a murderer, but those who'd had the future revealed to them, they would understand, they would know he was just preparing the way...for the new millennium...for the new messiah.
He smiled and continued to watch the paper burn.
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