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by
(Posted 11-11-98)
Chapter One
Smell was his first clue that he wasn't in Cascade. The rich, heavy, earthy scents which assaulted his nose were familiar but... The bayou. His eyes opened and he saw the lush flora of the area, heard the whine of the mosquitos and the deep roar of the alligator, and felt the sultry breeze brush through the hairs on his arms. "Alicia?" he called quickly.
"Mon ange!" She flung her arms around him, a tiny figure in white. "It is so good to see you again, Jim!"
He returned the embrace just as enthusiastically. "It's good to see you too, ma petite fille." He released her and stepped back, his gaze taking in the changes in her. When he had *first* seen Alicia Delacroix, she had been starved, bruised and battered, bleeding from whippings and other abuses. Now she was at her correct weight, her skin glowed a deep honey brown, and the eyes that had broken his heart nightly, were now illuminated with an inner brilliance. "Heaven has agreed with you," he complimented, tugging on a shiny black braid. When he had *last* seen Alicia, he had pulled her body from the bayou, dead at the hands of a dark and dangerous cult known as La Societe de Sang, the Society of Blood.
"Mais oui. I am very happy," she concurred. "More so than I ever thought possible." Alicia looked around, seeing the spot where the shack that had been her prison once stood and the rock where she had been raped and killed. Although the rock remained, Edouard Delacroix-- Alicia's father-- had gleefully burned the shack to the ground. "This is a very sad place, oui?"
He reached out his hands to cup her face, making her look at him and not at the bitter memories that surrounded them. "Yes, very sad. Why are we here, Lici?"
"This is our common ground, Jim. When we are together, it will always be here."
"Then we mustn't be together anymore," he told her gently. "I am content with those feathery touches when your thoughts brush against mine."
She looked surprised. "You knew that was me?"
"Mais oui. We are a part of each other, cherie. At least for a short while still." He was referring to the part of herself that she had given him, an energy which would have fueled her psychic powers had she been allowed to mature. Now that energy boosted his own powers: genetically heightened senses which made him a Sentinel, an extraordinary watchman of those under his protection.
She looked away, still bothered by the lie she had told him in order that he would accept her gift. The truth was that the energy would always be a part of him. Unlike with la Societe de Sang which had stripped the energy from other young female psychics, what she had freely given Jim would not fade and disintegrate in a year's time. Alicia had confessed the lie to Jim's Guide, but apparently he had not informed the Sentinel. Since Blair knew Jim better than she did, she kept her peace. "I had to bring us both here, Jim."
"Why?"
"Helaire."
Helaire Battiste Delacroix. Mother of Alicia. Wife of Edouard. High Priestess of the Society of Blood. It was she who'd had her daughter kidnapped, tortured, raped, and killed. It was she who now resided on death row in the Louisiana Correctional Facility for Women, charged and convicted of seventy-six murders, including fifty young girls. "Your mother is where she belongs," he said curtly.
"Yes, but her spirit is not. Even as we speak it travels to Hell, entreating the dark master to aid her in destroying you."
Jim gave a dry laugh. "She's that desperate to get back at me, huh?" He had not only hunted her down and arrested her, but he had also made certain her deeds were well-known throughout the prison. And he had also promised her she wouldn't live long enough to face the humane needle of Louisiana's lethal injection. He had other, more painful, plans for her death.
"This is no laughing matter, Jim," Alicia said seriously. "As you are known in Heaven, so are you known in Hell." Jim just laughed harder. He'd always thought Hell had it in for him; now he knew for sure it was personal. She touched him on the arm to get his attention. "She may receive the aid she requests. You and yours are in grave danger."
He quickly sobered. "Blair and Simon?"
"They were with you the night you captured her."
Jim closed his eyes and sighed. "Maybe I should have killed her then."
"Non! Then your soul would have been destroyed."
"Better my soul than my friends!" Jim argued anguishedly. "Why, by God, does everyone say I'm better off now that I have friends, that I have people I care about? How can I be happier when I have put people in harm's way simply because they love me?"
"Because we love you, we are under your protection," Alicia said, reaching out to wrap her arms arond his waist. He drew her close and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "And you are under ours. I will not let Maman harm you."
He pulled back in order to look her in the eye sternly. "No, Alicia. You have already given *all* in this battle. It is mine now. Enjoy your reward, Lici. You are no longer responsible for your mother's sins."
"Nor my grandmother's?" she reminded him.
"Nor your grandmother's. The evil flowed from the mother to the daughter, but not to the granddaughter. You stopped it from going any further, Alicia. And now I must do my part."
"As we must do ours," a voice called and Jim turned around to see a bevy of young girls walking toward him. "We are the Lost Ones," the lead child said. "We are the ones you called from the bayou and returned to our families. Then, we did not know who we were. Now, we do and we owe you our gratitude, Sentinel, and our support."
Jim sat down heavily on the stone altar where all of these children had been murdered during a half a century time span. He had never known them but they had spoken in his head, asking for his help. And he had given it because they had sounded so sad and frightened, because he could not deny these young girls a chance at eternal peace. But seeing them in the "flesh" was overwhelming. The beauty, the intelligence, the essence of these souls lost because the Society wanted what it could not get on its own... "I am so sorry," he said, mindless of the tears spilling from his eyes. "This," he added, banging his fist against the stone, "should have never happened to you."
Alicia reached out to brush the tears away. "But it did and it is thanks to you that we are not stuck here, that our souls are not trapped and empty. We do not celebrate this place, but neither do we fear it. And it is here where we can contact you, where we can warn you of Helaire's evil. We will watch out for you, Sentinel."
"My own band of angels, huh?" he said with a teasing smile.
She kissed his cheek. "No, not angels, Jim, but living among them and in their care."
"Then you are protected?"
"Oui."
"Then that is the only thing that matters."
'Non. Not the only thing, mon ami. You matter too. When you need them, they will protect you also. Remember that, my Sentinel. Always remember that."
"I will, cherie. I will remember I have the angels... and that I have you."
"Then go, mon ange. Go and prepare you and yours for what is about to be."
*****
Jim awoke with a start and as he sat up in his bed, he remembered. Alicia and the Lost Ones. The warning of what was to come. Shit. As if his life wasn't complicated enough. Now he was going to have what-- demons?-- coming after him. Soliciting hell against him. Helaire was creative if anything. Guess he was going to have to tell Blair to brush up on his Shamanism and Simon... What the Hell to tell Simon? Well, uh, captain, once again one of my enemies has targeted you because I sorta made you my staff-- you know, an extension of the Sentinel. Well, yeah, I know you know you're the Watcher, and yeah, I know you weren't too happy about that. Maybe that's why I haven't told you about this staff thing. But now since the hounds of Hell are going to be, well, hounding you, I thought maybe you should know. Oh, that was going to go over well.
He got up and shrugged into his robe, knowing there would be no more sleep for him. He made his way downstairs and put on a pot of coffee before heading to the bathroom. On his way back to the kitchen, he stuck his head inside Blair's room and watched his roommate sleep for a few minutes. The younger man embraced sleep as heartily as he did everything else, his arms and legs splayed across the bed covered by a sheet and, the Sentinel opened his eyes a tad wider to see clearer into the dark room, two blankets. Resisting the urge to cover up a foot which had managed to escape the covers, Jim filled his mug with coffee and headed for the balcony.
Friday morning in Cascade, he thought as he stood at the protective railing and looked over the city. Most of it was still sleeping, the waking sun barely visible at the horizon's edge. A few cars motored by, night workers heading home, janitorial and maintenance crews heading in before the general workers and bosses arrived. According to the Chopec, the Indian tribe he had lived with in Peru for eighteen months, he was the Sentinel of the Great City. This was his protectorate and he took his duty seriously. Each and every citizen was his responsibility. He understood that, just like he understood his limitations and knew he couldn't save or protect them all. He mainly focused on protecting as many as possible, removing the biggest dangers, the largest obstacles. But that didn't mean he didn't mourn the ones he couldn't save, didn't grieve for the loss of one of his "tribe".
And he'd found out in the past year or so that his tribe included all children in the U.S., no matter where they lived. He had confronted the murderers of children in Cascade, Baltimore, and New Orleans-- the West Coast, the East Coast, and the Gulf. He had brought their killers to justice and for his troubles, he was now going to face the denizens of Hell. "Why me?" he asked the air.
Because you are strong enough to handle it.
He didn't know who had spoken the words in his head and he didn't care. Whoever it was, was right. If there was going to be a war between Heaven and Hell, then the battle may as well start in Cascade because sooner or later he would inevitably be drawn into it-- because he was strong enough, because he had the gifts to give him an edge, because he was Jim Ellison and he wouldn't give up himself or anyone in his care without a fight. Arrogant, he knew, but all too true as the criminal element in Cascade was figuring out.
"Jim?"
He'd heard his partner struggling with the idea of morning for the past fifteen minutes. Blair hated getting up, but once he got over the "shock", he pounced into the day with enthusiasm. "Good morning, Chief."
Blair blinked in the bright sunlight. "Yeah, if you say so." Yawning, he came through the balcony doors. "What's up, man? You usually only do this 'communing with your city' stuff when you're troubled. Something I need to know about?" He took the mug from his partner's hand and sipped the coffee. "Ice cold! How long you been out here, man?"
Jim shrugged. "A while."
Blair looked at him closely. "That bad?" His partner nodded. "I probably better get dressed and braced with hot coffee before you tell me, huh?"
"You're going in with me this morning, aren't you?"
"Yeah, that's the plan."
"Then I may as well tell you and Simon at the same time."
Blair paled. "This sounds serious, Jim."
"It is."
"Okay, I can definitely wait for the details. But maybe you better give me a hint. You won't believe the things my mind can come up with on its own," Blair admitted nervously.
Jim nodded and stared off into his past. "Back in the Army there was this guy that everyone avoided because he was super-religious. You couldn't get within two feet of him without hearing something about choosing the side of right and wrong or going to Hell or something. I unfortunately, thanks to the manipulations of a couple bunkmates of mine, had the honor of being trapped with him in a foxhole during a training exercise. Come to find out he wasn't even preaching one of the common religions. He was into Zoroastrianism. You know anything about that, Chief?"
Blair nodded. "Zoroastrianism is considered to be one of the first monotheistic religions and is definitely one of the oldest religions still in existence. Most of the general beliefs about Heaven and Hell, God and the Devil, the battle between Good and Evil, all of that comes from Zoroastrianism. The faiths that followed borrowed heavily from it." He frowned and looked at his partner. "What does this have to do with us, Jim?"
Jim looked out over the city which had fully wakened and noisily started the day. "It's time to choose which side you're on, Chief. The battle's coming to us."
Blair blinked once, accepted that Jim would not kid about something like this, then turned to enter the loft. Boxers and a robe were definitely not battle armor. "Don't have to choose, Jim," he said softly before leaving, too softly for anyone but a Sentinel to hear. "You know where I stand, where I have always stood."
"I know, Chief. And I'm going to need you there now more than ever."
Jim looked at his city once more, straightened his shoulders, and followed his partner inside. There would be no more looking back.
Chapter Two
"He's handsome," one of the girls said with a giggle.
"But it will take more than a pretty face to win this," another retorted. "Is he strong enough?"
"Mais oui," Alicia answered, miffed at her companions. "How do you think you made it here? Who freed you from that icky bayou?" Strong? Had he not taken her pain within himself? Had he not stood by her during her worst hours, yet still had the conviction of soul not to kill her mother, or let her be killed, even though it would have been so easy? That took a strength not measured in muscle but in character. Strength that would matter in the coming days.
"But you and others helped him."
"As we will continue to do so," Alicia vowed. "But we merely instructed him. The power was his own, fed by his inherent goodness. He has faith that far outweighs ours combined."
"But we are with the angels," one of them sputtered indignantly.
"And he is on earth. Which requires the most faith, my friends?" Alicia questioned. "I fear some of you are not fully recovered. I will round up the others who helped Jim before. He needs to be surrounded by those who fully believe."
"You would cast us aside because we have doubts? Remember, we do not know him as you do," the tallest of the Lost Ones argued.
"But you know who called him to this battle. How can you say you have faith when you doubt *His* choice?"
*****
"Come in."
Captain Simon Banks took one look at the grim visages before him and stuck out the ceramic mug which was a gift from his son Daryl. Then he pushed two more in their direction. "We're going to need it, right?" Jim nodded and passed the mugs one at a time to his partner who filled them from the coffeemaker in the corner.
Simon contemplated the two of them. This definitely didn't have anything to do with police matters. There was something different about Jim and Blair when they came to him with the Sentinel business. Maybe it was an odd tenseness or a particular expression that he picked up on because he was their Watcher or merely their friend. Well, at least they hadn't called him from his bed this time, although Jim looked as if he'd been up most of the night. He braced himself with a healthy sip, then sat back in his chair. "Okay, gentlemen, which one of you wants to begin?"
"That would have to be Jim," Blair said quickly. "I'm as much in the dark as you. When I woke up, he was already out of the balcony staring at the city."
"That bad, huh?" Simon commented with a grimace. Jim contemplating Cascade was not a good sign.
"Sometimes I just like looking at the city," Jim said defensively. Both Simon and Blair just arched eyebrows in his direction. "Fine. Last night I took a trip back to the bayou."
"Damn."
"Shit."
The corner of Jim's mouth quirked slightly. Seems everyone's in agreement so far. "Alicia was there, of course, as well as the other forty-nine girls killed by the Society."
"I thought now that she was dead, you'd just do that mental thing," Simon said, remembering how he walked in his office to see Jim with a gun to his head, explaining to the Forty-Two that they didn't control him.
Jim shrugged. "She had something she needed to tell me 'face-to-face', captain. And I think the others wanted to meet me as well. The bayou is our common ground. It's the place where we've all been."
"What did she have to tell you, Jim?" Blair prompted. Not that he wasn't interested in the whole psychic/supernatural aspect of Jim's link to Alicia and the others, but his partner had hinted at something much more dire.
"Helaire is plotting her revenge against me."
"She's still in prison, isn't she?" Simon asked, knowing that was where she should be, but...
"Well, according to Alicia, she's sent her soul to Hell to ask for assistance in taking me out," Jim said with a nervous chuckle.
Neither of the other men returned it. "You mean actual Hell, don't you?" Blair questioned solemnly.
Jim nodded. "Seems I'm not too well liked there. There's a chance she'll get her support. Of course, certainty in Hell isn't exactly something you can count on."
Blair stared into his coffee. "Now I know where you were going with that Zoroastrianism reference. Well, at least we're on the side of angels."
Jim frowned, trying to remember all of the conversation he'd had during the night. Hearing about Helaire's plans and meeting the other little girls sort of made the rest fade. "Alicia said something about angels. She said she and the others weren't angels, but they lived among them and were tended by them."
Blair nodded. "That sounds about right. Everyone has this notion that if you're good, when you die you become an angel. But according to scripture and other religious texts, angels were created to be angels as men were created to be men. So even though your soul may go to heaven, you don't become an angel."
Jim grinned, absurdly proud of his partner's intelligence. "And you wonder why I keep you around," he teased.
Blair smiled. "See what a good liberal education can do?"
Simon just stared at the two of them. "Well, that's really terrific that Sandburg knows how he fits in, but what about me? Dare I assume you're just telling me this stuff so I'll know where to pick up the pieces after it's all over?"
"Assuming there will be pieces left," Jim mused.
"Oh, there will be something for me to scrape up," Simon said assuredly. "I know you and your partner. The pieces may be small, but they'll be there."
"Keep that confidence, captain. We're going to need it."
"'We' as in you and Sandburg?" Jim shook his head. "Damn. I knew you were going to do that. You know I really wouldn't mind staying on the sidelines for this one. Believe me, I won't be offended."
Blue eyes regarded him with regret. "Sorry, Simon. I'm afraid you're going to be dragged into this too. You know how you're the Watcher over the Guide and the Sentinel? Well, you're also my staff, you know, like a shepherd's staff? You extend the Sentinel's reach and you prop me up when I need it."
"That's cool," Blair said eagerly.
"Well, you're my shield, Chief. You protect me and deflect away harm."
"That's cool too," Blair said proudly.
"Keep this up, Jim, and I'm going to need a business card the size of a billboard," Simon said gruffly. "In other words, I'm someone the bad guys can't ignore, right?"
"Not if they're after me," Jim remarked sadly. "I'm sorry, Simon. I know I keep saying that, but each time it just gets worse."
Simon shrugged. "I'm a cop, Jim. I signed on to fight the enemy."
"Even if they are demons from Hell?"
Simon flinched. "Is that what we're going to be facing?"
Jim sighed and slumped in his chair. "I have no idea. I don't even know if I believe in demons. I wasn't even sure if I believed in Heaven and Hell either, until I saw Alicia. Seeing how good she looked made me believe there is a Heaven. And that means there has to be a Hell."
"Could it have merely been your imagination causing you to see her like that?" Simon offered.
Jim snorted. "You're talking to me, Simon. Jim Ellison doesn't have an imagination, remember? At least not one that fanciful."
True. One of the reasons he'd been able to accept the whole heightened senses bit was because he knew Jim couldn't be faking it; the man's thought processes didn't tend to be that colorful. "Okay. However, I suggest we start with the demons on this side of the gates of Hell," Simon said decisively. No use in putting off the inevitable. "I'll call down to New Orleans and see if Rankin and Allen have heard anything." The two southern cops had been quite understanding of the supernatural when they worked with them taking out the Society. A little demon-hunting probably wouldn't faze them at all. Well, not much, anyway.
"I'll see what my contacts at Helaire's prison have to say," Jim offered, getting up from the chair.
"And I'll search the internet," Blair said, following his partner. "Somebody should have some ideas about how to stop demons." He looked at the taller men. "Never hurts to have preventative measures in place."
Simon shrugged and watched them leave. It wasn't easy being their Watcher, but neither was it dull. He took a last sip of coffee, then told Rhonda his secretary to put in a call to the New Orleans department. Setting his mug aside, he looked at the carefully calligraphied words written on the side: I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul... Invictus.
Sorry, Daryl. I know you think your old man is one of the greats but the only thing I'm captain of is this unit; my soul, my fate, rests in the hands of my Sentinel and Guide.
God help me.
God help them.
God help us all.
Chapter Three
"Sir?" Jim tapped on Simon's door, Blair behind him.
"Come on in," Simon invited. "I'm waiting for a callback from Rankin and Allen. They're out on a case. I told the secretary they already had my number," he added with a grin. When he had first called to ask the detectives about what was then the Delacroix kidnapping, rookie detective Joey Allen had mistakenly put a trace on the call-- irritating Simon to the point of packing up his detectives and heading South.
"Well, I had a bit more luck with my contacts, captain," Jim said. He had brought his mug with him and got himself a refill. Simon's rich blends always captured the attention of his Sentinel tastebuds.
Simon knew better than to ask for details about the contacts; Jim had a past that angled toward the shadowy end of military operations. His contacts weren't people the captain needed, or wanted, to know. "Helaire still safely locked up?"
"She's in the prison infirmary in a coma. Happened two days ago; she went to bed one night and they couldn't wake her the next morning. So far the doctors are puzzled and she's going through rigorous testing."
Blair shrugged. "They're not going to find anything definite. Of course, it's obvious to us that her soul can't be in her body and in Hell at the same time."
Simon rolled his eyes. Obvious, huh? The kid was giving him way too much credit. "You get anything else? Like what she was up to before this sudden ailment?"
"They're faxing me a list of her most recent visitors. That may give us an edge if we can find out with whom she was consorting."
Simon glanced at Blair and sighed. Guess he should ask how his project was going. "Anything on the internet of interest, Sandburg?"
The anthropologist was surprised but pleased by the question. He figured Simon was going to pull one of his "if we don't talk about it, it doesn't exist" routines when it came to the demonic aspects of their situation. "I've started a metasearch. We should have results soon."
What the hell was a metasearch? "That's good, Sandburg. Let me know when you have something you think we can use," Simon said encouragingly, as a good captain should.
Jim tilted his head slightly to one side. "My fax is coming through. I'll be back in a minute."
"How's he holding up?" Simon inquired after Jim left.
Blair knew what the captain was asking. These bouts with the supernatural were particularly hard on the Sentinel. Often he experienced migraines, sleeplessness, or tormented dreams. "This hit quickly, Simon. He had exhibited no signs of this earlier so I can only assume last night was the first time Alicia contacted him." Before, he had spent nearly a week "with" Alicia before he remembered what had occurred in those meetings. But they both had known something was wrong. "I was really surprised to see him out on the balcony this morning."
"You know, the bayou can be a pretty place and I'm sure all that good ecosystem crap is going on, but if I never see, or Jim never sees, another bayou again, I'd be quite happy."
Blair chuckled. "I'm going to have to agree with you, Simon. I'm all for the survival of the rain forests and wetlands, but the bayou is different. I don't know why."
"It got personal, Sandburg," Simon replied, knowing exactly what was wrong with the delta region of the Mississippi River.
Blair nodded. The captain was right; it wasn't the bayou itself which had caused the Sentinel mental anguish, but it contained some very terrible memories for his friend.
"Well, keep a close eye on him tonight and if things get...weird, give me a call."
Blair appreciated the captain's concern, but he couldn't help teasing him. "Weird? Around the loft? Gee, Simon, I could call you every night if that's the case."
"Sandburg..." Simon started to threaten when all of a sudden something caused both him and Blair to turn toward the glass overlooking the bullpen. They saw Jim standing very stiffly and Detective Henri Brown looking anxiously in his direction. Before they could reach the bullpen, Jim had stalked out to the hall and Brown was staring at the floor near the fax machine.
"What the hell happened?" Simon questioned quickly.
"I don't know," Brown said bewilderedly. "One minute Ellison was grabbing some pages from the fax and then I heard the cracking of glass. He broke it, captain."
"The mug?" Simon waved away the loss. "I've dropped a few myself."
"He didn't drop it," Brown explained in an anxious rush. "He crushed it with his hand."
It was only then that Simon and Blair noticed the blood intermingled with the coffee and ceramic fragments. Without a word, Blair grabbed his backpack and headed out of the office. "Take him to the emergency room before bringing him back here," Simon called, reassured that he'd been heard by Sandburg's curt nod. "Alert maintenance to this mess, please, Henri?"
The detective nodded and Simon leaned over to pick up the pages that had fallen to the floor. What could have set Jim off? Sure, the man was volatile and his first instinct was to react with his fists. But with a mug in his hand? Grabbing a tissue off a nearby desk, he mopped up the coffee, trying not to smear the ink on the fax. It was indeed the list of Helaire's visitors. He probably would have had to have a warrant or a court order to get the information. But he hadn't gotten the information; he'd literally picked it up as it lay around the office. Assured then that he wasn't violating any laws, his eyes scanned the list quickly. They stopped at the third name from the bottom. No wonder Jim had gone ballistic. He was about a nanosecond from going off himself. Goddamnit. Helaire hadn't needed to go to Hell; one of Jim's demons had sought her out on his own.
*****
Blair followed the blood droplets to the stairwell door and found Jim leaning against the wall on the fourth floor landing. He approached cautiously, not because he was worried Jim would lash out at him, but because he didn't want Jim accidently causing himself more harm. From the way his partner was ignoring the hand hanging limply at his side, he either didn't know he was hurt or didn't care.
"Come on down here, Chief," Jim called wearily, having sensed Blair's approach immediately. "I'm just practicing some of your deep-breathing relaxation techniques."
"Wish you would have done that back in the bullpen," Blair said as he opened his pack and pulled out the first aid kit he kept there. At first, people wondered why he hauled the heavy kit around with him everywhere. After being in the company of him and his partner for less than a week, they usually figured it out.
"What?" Jim eyed the kit curiously and Blair pointed to his hand. "Shit."
"I thought we had this anger thing under control, Jim," Blair chided gently. "Let me wrap it up enough to get you to the emergency room without bleeding to death, okay?"
"How did you expect me to react, seeing his name on that list?" Jim asked defiantly. "I thought the son of a bitch was out of my life!"
"Which son of a bitch would that be?" Blair inquired calmly.
"You didn't read the list?"
"No, I thought it best to find my partner and keep him alive."
"Oh." Jim took a deep breath and concentrated on the white gauze Blair was wrapping around his hand. "Helaire's visitor last Thursday was none other than our mutual 'friend', Tony Bozeman."
Blair didn't realize how tight he was pulling the gauze until Jim flinched in pain. "Sorry, man," he said hurriedly as he focused once again on his current task. Dr. Anthony Bozeman was an FBI profiler who was way too interested in Jim. After stumbling upon Jim's "gifts" during the Cascade case where forty-two children had been brutally murdered, Bozeman had been so eager to see Jim in action again, he had used their friendship with two Baltimore cops to get Jim to work a multiple homicide in Maryland. Jim had warned him away then, but he'd heard from another agent, Fox Mulder, that Bozeman was still keeping tabs on them. "What do you think he wanted with her?"
"Probably an account of how I captured her. You know he thinks I'm some brilliant psychic," Jim said dryly as Blair packed up the kit and indicated they were going to enter the fourth floor and continue to the parking garage via the elevator.
"Well, when it comes to deceased children, you are, Jim," Blair said reasonably. "But that doesn't mean he has the right to manipulate you into such situations so that he can watch you work. I'm sure if Alicia hadn't managed to draw you into the case, Bozeman would have tried something himself. Keep your hand elevated to alleviate the bleeding."
Jim obediently followed the order. "Damn it, Chief. If I can't handle these little shocks, how can I even hope to deal with whatever Helaire is planning?"
"Maybe this was a good thing, Jim," Blair said, prepared for his partner's look of disbelief. "Now you won't be surprised by anything else that happens."
"I hope you're right, Chief, because I don't think this case is going to get any easier."
Two hours and an E.R. visit later, Jim was sure it wasn't going to get easier. "I'll live, Simon," he said in response to the captain's question about his hand upon their return. "I take it you saw why I reacted like I did?" he asked as he and his partner settled into their seats before Simon's desk. Their seats. Yeah, it was starting to feel that way. The other detectives merely borrowed them from time to time.
Simon frowned. "I saw. I called the Bureau prepared to have Bozeman's ass on record for harassment. You don't want to know what I found out," he warned.
Jim sighed and idly flexed his injured hand until Blair's light touch stopped him. "Give to us straight, Simon. We need to know what we're dealing with."
"Okay. The bad news: Dr. Bozeman no longer works for the FBI."
"You're kidding?" Blair said quickly. "What happened? Is he working for someone else now? Some secret group that may want Jim?"
Jim shook his head. "Going straight for the worst case scenario, Chief?"
Simon cleared his throat. "Actually the truth is much worse, gentlemen. Bozeman was quietly retired from the Bureau. In other words, he was fired."
"Why?" Jim asked.
"That wasn't an easy answer to find. I got the royal runaround until I got tired and contacted Deputy Director Whitney. I figured he owed us and he agreed. He managed to determine Bozeman was let go because he failed his last two psych evaluations."
"So not only is he after Jim but he's a nutcase too?" Blair asked in amazement. "Man, you think there would be a limit on how many times this could happen to us."
"My sentiments exactly," Simon agreed. "In any case, since he's out of the Bureau we have no way to track him."
"He'll pop up eventually," Jim said knowingly.
"I'm sure he will, but until then, we have other problems to deal with, gentlemen," the captain added ominously.
"You're just brimming over with news today, aren't you, sir?" Jim remarked dryly, sensing he was going to like this flash even less than the prior ones.
"Rankin and Allen got back to me. They were out working a case. A missing girl."
"Shit," Jim swore. This couldn't be happening again. How the hell had Helaire... That's right. Helaire had contacted Hell. "A twelve-year-old?" The standard, just-on-the-brink-of-puberty, age the Society lusted after.
"No. Younger, which is surprising. The child is only seven. Rankin was just getting ready to contact us because..."
Jim didn't hear anything Simon said past the child being seven. Suddenly, he flashed back to a little girl walking him to a neighbor's house, her solemn hazel eyes looking both ways before tugging him across a street. Philip Marie who was called Flip by everyone but her mother.
"How old are you, Flip?"
"Seven. Not quite old 'nough for the Society to git me, but I hear tell they ain't gonna be doin' that no more 'cause of you."
Jim stopped and kneeled before the child. "You heard what?"
"That you done brought back all the kids the Society took and they ain't gonna be able to take no more. We all thank you for that, Mr. Jim. I didn't cotton to bein' Society food," little Flip said, her eyes wide and solemn.
"You're welcome Flip," Jim replied and slowly got back to his feet.
"You gonna come and git me now, Mr. Jim? The angel said if I got took, I was 'sposed to wait a long time, then call for you to come git me. I think it's been a long time now, Mr. Jim."
"Jim, man, come out of it," Blair pleaded. "You've gone way pale."
Jim took a deep breath, only aware now that he hadn't taken one in a while. What the hell had happened? Flip hadn't asked him to come get her in New Orleans. Where had that come from? He stood quickly and went over to the window. His thumb sought the imagined remote control Blair had devised to help him control his Alicia-boosted eyesight and without really considering what he was doing, he changed the channel on his hearing, then increased the volume.
"That detective is gonna shit bricks when he comes home and finds this little bitch dead in his own living room."
"Cain't we have some fun with her first? From what I heard, the Society always did."
"Man, you're sick. She's just a little girl. Take the money we get for killing her and go buy yourself a ho' for the night."
"Jim? Man, where're you going? Hold up! Shit, Simon." Blair grabbed his pack and raced out after his partner.
Simon hesitated for exactly one second, then ran out after them. "Joel, hold the fort," he called as he breezed through the bullpen.
"Sure," Joel Taggert replied and looked at the other detectives who stared at the fleeing men. Then they in return looked at him with a silent question. "They'll call when they need us. Finish as much as you can on your desks; it may be a while before you get back to it," he said knowingly.
Then with a sigh and a lingering glimpse of the closing elevator, Joel took his own advice and attacked the caseload on his desk.
Chapter Four
"They're in the loft."
"Who?" Blair asked as the elevator descended.
"Flip and two men. One wants to rape her; the other merely wants to kill her and collect his fee."
"Flip is the missing little girl?" Jim nodded. Blair glanced at Simon, then back to Jim. "How do you know this, Jim?"
"I hear them."
Simon reached for the cell phone he'd grabbed at the last second and barked orders for a patrol car to get over to Prospect immediately. When they exited into the parking garage, he directed them to his car. "What's happening now, Jim?"
"They're still arguing."
"The patrol unit should be approaching. What do you want them to do?"
"Hold back for now. I don't want them startled into harming Flip."
"You sound as if you know this child, Jim," Blair said softly, curious but not wanting to be too distracting.
"I do," Jim confirmed. "And so do you. Remember T'Dette's daughter who took me to see Grandmere?"
Blair paled as he pictured the thin, pigtailed girl who had coming running when her mother called. "She had a man's name, didn't she?"
"Philip Marie," Simon said, having heard the name from Det. Rankin who happened to be T'Dette's cousin.
"Flip to her friends," Jim corrected. "She thanked me for getting rid of the Society. Damn Helaire! What the hell does she have against little girls? Can't you go any faster, Simon?"
"Now you know why I'm driving," Simon muttered, then turned his attention to his ringing phone. "Banks... Hold until otherwise notified... ETA two minutes. Banks out."
"They've decided to kill her!" Jim shouted as the car turned onto Prospect. Before Simon could hit the brakes, the door was open and Jim did a dive out of the moving vehicle. He landed in a roll and was on his feet and in the building before Simon could mutter a curse and slow down enough for Blair to pop out behind his partner.
Jim didn't remember getting out of the car or racing up the stairs. His first full recollection was of kicking in the door to the loft and sending a bullet through the hand holding the stone dagger just above Flip's heart. He didn't hesitate, didn't even consider that he may hit the child. The Sentinel saw the danger and acted, knowing as surely as he knew his own hand that the bullet would be true to its target. Then even as the first kidnapper was dropping his weapon, he turned the gun on the other. "Twitch," he said softly, his eyes blazing a cold, deadly blue flame. "Please."
Both men froze and with the enemy securely in his sights, he called to the child. "Flip? Come over here to me, sweetheart." He held out one hand toward her and she ran swiftly to his side. "Did they hurt you?"
She shook her head. "But I'm sure glad you've come to git me, Mr. Jim."
"I'm just sorry it took me so long," Jim apologized. "It's safe," he called out to his approaching partner. "Here, Chief." He handed him the gun and scooped Flip up into his arms. "Even if their noses wiggle the wrong way, shoot them," he ordered as he carried the child out to the hallway.
Simon came bounding up the stairs with two officers behind him, their guns drawn. "We heard gunfire!" the captain yelled.
"I shot one of the bastards in the hand," Jim said nonchalantly. "You may want to go in there and relieve Sandburg. Me and this young lady are going to the hospital." He could feel her heart racing and he didn't like the way her pupils were dilated. Rubbing his hand along her arm, he felt the hole left by an injection. Maybe he should have shot the other one just for the fun of it.
"I don't wanna go to the hospital, Mr. Jim," Flip cried, finally letting go of the tears she'd held back since waking in the back of a car with two strangers driving.
"I know, sweetheart. But the bad guys gave you something that might make you sick. We have to find out what it is, okay?"
She clung tighter to his neck. "But I don't want you to go!"
He patted her back as he carefully started down the stairs. "And I'm not going to. You can stay right here in my arms until you feel ready to get down, okay?"
She nodded. "You promise?"
He kissed the top of her head. "Yes, Flip, I promise."
Blair pounded down the steps behind them. "Simon said to take his car." He slid behind the wheel as Jim got into the backseat, the child on his lap. The familiar route to the emergency room was made in silence, except for the occasional sniff from Flip followed by reassuring murmuring from Jim.
"Back so soon, detective?" the nurse at the desk asked, still on duty from Jim's earlier visit to stitch up his hand.
"I have a female here, age seven, who was kidnapped and drugged. She needs to see a doctor immediately."
"Of course, detective. Just hand her to me and I'll take her back--"
Flip's grip tightened around his neck. "No," he said quickly. "I stay with her."
"That's impossible, sir. I know you think the child may be in danger, but only parents can accompany children into the cubicles."
"That works too," Jim said amiably. "I'm her father."
The nurse blinked, then stared at the cinnamon-colored girl in his arms. "Detective..." she began, knowing a con when she heard one.
"Daddy, my head hurts," Flip said as if on cue.
He kissed the top of her head. Of course T'Dette's child would be quick. "I know, sweetheart. And if the nurse doesn't call a doctor for you soon, Daddy will just have to roam the halls until he snags one and hauls his butt down here. The doctor won't like it and I'm sure the nurse won't either." Cool blue eyes appraised her.
"Cubicle Five," she said quickly. "I'll get someone from Pediatrics down here immediately." Jim nodded and knowingly headed for the right set of curtains. The nurse made the call and looked up to find the detective's partner approaching. "Det. Ellison and his daughter are already in the back."
"His daughter?" Blair asked, momentarily confused. What had happened while he parked the car?
"You didn't know she was his daughter?" the nurse asked warily. Had she been scammed?
Blair recovered quickly. Whatever game his partner was playing, it was his duty to back him up. "Of course I know it. I just didn't know you did."
"Uh huh," the nurse drawled. "Why the big secrecy? He didn't identify her as his daughter until I wouldn't allow him to stay with her."
So that was it. The Sentinel had made a promise and he was keeping it the only way he could. "Did he tell you the child had been kidnapped?" She nodded. "Did he also tell you the reason she was taken from her home in New Orleans and dragged all the way to Cascade was because an enemy of his wanted to get back at him?" She looked shocked. "So now do you understand why he's hesitant for anyone to know she's his daughter? That's truly wonderful. Now, be a dear and tell Jim I'll be sitting over here waiting for them," he said quietly and made his way to the molded plastic chairs, grinning now that his back was to her. I'm good.
"What's happening, Sandburg?" Simon asked a few hours later as he settled into the chair beside Blair.
"We're waiting on the final blood tests to come back. Jim's with Flip. By the way, if anyone asks, she's his daughter," he warned.
"Only way they'd let him stay with her, huh?" Simon guessed easily, having brought his son Daryl to the emergency room a time or two. "I contacted Rankin and he's going to inform his cousin. I have no doubt T'Dette will be on the next plane to Cascade."
"What about those creeps at the loft?"
"One's downtown and the other's over at Community's E.R. I didn't think having him and Jim in the same hospital was a good idea."
"And some wonder how you made captain," Blair teased. Then he sobered. "This is getting nasty quick, Simon. You realize it was just this morning that Jim told us about Helaire's plans?"
Simon nodded. "I'm working in the dark with this shit. You know that, don't you, Sandburg? I mean you and Jim have the inner track on this and the only thing I can do is follow your lead. So don't go leaving your favorite captain behind on this, okay?"
Blair reached out and did a quick pat to the brown hand on the chair arm next to his. "We wouldn't do that, Simon. And quite frankly, I'm out of my element too."
"But you're some kind of shaman, right? A holy man?"
Blair shrugged. "Less a holy man and more of a counselor and healer. I'm Jim's trainer, Simon. I keep, well, I try to keep, his body in peak condition and let me tell you, my number one enemy is Wonder Burger. I try to keep him up spiritually as well. That's why I'm always nagging him to talk to me, to confide in me. In battle, at least in the battles Jim seems to have, he needs to be one with himself. He needs to know his body can handle whatever blows that land and he needs to know his mind can dodge the psychological traps the enemy plants in his path." Simon nodded. He had often wondered why Sandburg bugged Jim about seemingly small things at times... and had wondered with equal confusion why Jim allowed him to do so.
"As Jim's Guide, it is also my duty to know certain answers, to give the Sentinel information when he requires it. That knowledge gives Jim the confidence to go on and often the edge in a close fight. Sometimes finding these answers may require a trip to another plane of existence and that is where being a shaman comes in handy." He gave a slight smile as Simon frowned. "But that doesn't mean I'm imbued with extraordinary powers. Not like Jim."
"You gonna tell him the truth about Alicia's gift?"
"I don't know. He seems to be handling the enhancements well at the moment. I mean the way he immediately adjusted his hearing today... God, Simon. He heard a conversation in the loft from your office. That's just unreal. Couple that with seeing the infrared spectrum..." He shook his head, trying to focus on his original point. "He accepts this because he thinks it's temporary. If he finds out it's permanent, he may falter, freeze up. That is exactly what we don't need to happen now. Particularly now."
Simon nodded. "These extensions are really extraordinary and as soon as this is over, he is going to be one hell of a crime-fighting machine. But these are not ordinary criminals we're going against. How handy will these powers be in fighting the supernatural?"
"Well, the experiences he had in New Orleans should help. Remember in the motel near the airport?" After a bomb blasted through their uptown hotel, they had gotten a double room at a motel on the outskirts of New Orleans proper. The two men had awakened to find Jim going around the room, scattering herbs and doing something he called a binding spell. Later, they found out he had been channeling a woman's spirit who had been called upon by Alicia to help Jim.
"Basically, the thing I remember most, Sandburg, is out by the bayou that afternoon," Simon said, pinching the bridge of his nose as the disturbing thoughts swam in his head. Jim had kneeled by the sluggish water and held his hand out over it while calling out the names of gods in several religions. The area had grown still and then suddenly the remains of the murdered children had floated to the top of the bayou. It was something out of a horror movie, except that it had been very, very real.
"I still get nightmares from that," Blair admitted sheepishly.
"Yeah, well, you're not alone," Simon assured him gruffly. "I can't imagine just how bad this is going to get. I really think we're all going to end up in a mental hospital one day."
"Maybe they'll give us adjoining rooms," Blair said, trying to lighten the mood. Reality was dark enough without dwelling in the darkness of their own minds. "We can compete in basket-weaving and fingerpainting."
"Compete, hell," Simon countered. "You won't even be in my league, Sandburg."
"Hmph! That sounds like a challenge to me, captain. What are you willing to wager?"
"Lime Jello. If I win, you'll have to eat my portion."
"And if I win, it'll be the tapioca."
"Deal."
"Do I even want to know what this is about?" Jim asked as he walked into the waiting area, Flip walking at his side and her hand firmly in his.
"Just talking about how to spend our days in Cascadian Acres," Blair said easily, naming Cascade's premier looney bin.
"As if our insurance would pay for it," Jim replied. "Sorry, gentlemen, but the best we can hope for is Ward Eighty-six." That was code for the prison for the criminally insane.
"As long as we're together," Blair said before focusing on Jim's companion. "Hi, Flip. How are you feeling?"
"Much better," Jim answered when the child merely hid herself behind his leg. "The doctor gave her something to counteract the sedative she'd been given. So now we're heading back to the loft... Except for one stop." He looked at Simon, a sad apology in his eyes. "Simon, these things are going to search for our vulnerabilities. I think you know what yours is."
Simon grayed beneath his dark skin. "Daryl," he said hollowly. "Joan's going to have a fit, but I'm going to send him to stay with my cousins in California." He hurried out toward the parking lot so he could use his cell phone.
"No!" Jim said sharply as his friend started to dial. "Sending him away is the worst thing you can do."
"But you said... I can't have them attacking Daryl, Jim," Simon said firmly.
"No, you can't," Jim agreed. "That's why both you and he are staying at the loft tonight. A united front is our best protection."
The Watcher nodded, assured his Sentinel knew best. But as he drove to pick up his son, he wondered how he was going to explain this to Daryl and to his ex-wife, Joan... when he couldn't explain it to himself.
Chapter Five
"You two take my bed," Jim ordered the father/son duo as he got out linens to make up a bed on the loveseat for Flip. She had already slept there for whatever had remained of the evening, the rest of the drugs slowly being leached out of her system. The brief times she had awakened, she had clung to Jim but then he noticed her peeking around on occasion to steal a glance at Simon's tall, handsome son. That's when he suspected, with relief, she would recover from her ordeal with minimal psychological scars.
"That puts Sandburg in his own bed. But where are you going to sleep, Jim?" Simon asked.
"I'm not," Jim replied, clasping his jaw tightly which signaled there would be no argument. Of course, his partner ignored the warning.
"C'mon, man. You need to rest. You get tired and we're all screwed," Blair pointed out bluntly.
Jim sighed and motioned for the adults to join him in the kitchen. "Listen to me. Something is going to happen tonight."
"Alicia has been in contact with you?" Blair guessed quickly.
"No. It's just a..." Jim shrugged. "It's a very strong feeling I have."
Blair glanced at Simon. Apparently Jim's sixth sense had been additionally enhanced as well. "What kind of something, Jim?"
The Sentinel shook his head, at a loss for details. "But as soon as we get the kids in bed, I'm going to do a protective circle around the loft."
"How? This isn't New Orleans, Jim," Simon said. "Every other shop doesn't sell voodoo weeds and potions."
Jim reached beneath the sink and pulled out a plastic tote bag adorned with Mardi Gras pictures. "I... uh... sorta brought some back to Cascade with me."
"You knew this was going to happen?" Blair probed. Just how strong was his psychic ability now?
"Just the boy scout in me, Chief. Always prepared, you know."
Blair nodded, totally unconvinced. What else had Jim been hiding in the months since their trip South? "But you're gonna need sleep sometime, Jim."
His partner nodded. "When daylight comes, Chief. When daylight comes."
With Simon and Daryl up in his room and Flip once again asleep on the small sofa, Jim began the ritual of putting himself and his friends within a circle of safety. "You're not channeling," Blair observed as he watched him approach the front door.
"There is no need. I remember everything Felicity did." Felicity was the spirit that helped him before.
"Mind if I add my own little touch?" He held out a clear plastic bottle.
"Evian, Chief? What's that for? In case the demons get dry-mouth?"
"Do you know how many churches, synagogues, temples, tabernacles, and assorted other religious places we have in this city, man? I know, because while you were with Flip, I went to all these places and asked them to bless this water."
"And they didn't think you were crazy?"
"I told them I was a college student. You would be amazed at how tolerant that makes people. Anyway, I just thought a bit of holy water might come in handy."
"Won't get any argument from me, Chief. We'll just tag-team the demons to death."
"Sounds good to me," Blair replied with a grin and as Jim chanted and drew lines around the doors and windows, he anointed them with drops of holy water and a couple of remembered prayers.
Satisfied with their ministrations, Jim sent Blair to bed, then stood at the doors to the balcony to keep watch. When Flip stirred uneasily in her sleep, he padded over to the loveseat and sat down next to her. His touch soon had her back in a deep slumber and as he gazed upon her face in the dark loft, he wondered how Helaire and her minions could possibly attack something so pure, so innocent. What kind of world was this that childhood had become a thing to be tainted and defiled?
What about my own? For so long, I considered my childhood a thing to be forgotten. Because a man I loved had been murdered and no one would listen when I told them about his murderer. My own father was ashamed of me, of what I could do. But no one wanted to kill me. And Dad thought he was protecting me. I had Sally and Stevie, a roof over my head, clothes, a bike... Maybe it wasn't perfect, but I was safe and warm. Maybe after all this is over, I'll really try with Dad. Blair's right about me needing to put all this behind me. There's too much I have to face in my future to keep dragging my past behind...
What's that?
The Sentinel brought all his senses to play in the present... and didn't like what he found. He took a deep, calming breath, then headed for Blair's room. "Chief, wake up!" he whispered hurriedly.
The urgency made its way quickly to his roommate's sleeping brain. "What is it?"
"Go wake the others. Bring them to the living room. Now!"
By the time Blair headed back down the stairs, a sleepy Daryl and Simon behind him, something was rattling the door to the loft. "Jim?"
"Don't worry about it. Just have a seat on the sofa," Jim said quickly. Then the lamp Blair had turned on as he crossed to Jim's room went out, plunging the loft into complete darkness.
"Daddy!" Flip cried out.
"It's okay, sweetheart. We're all okay," he replied. "Everyone stay exactly where you are. I'll come for you."
Using his Sentinel sight, he guided everyone safely to the living room. "Dad, what's going on?" Daryl asked, ashamed of the quiver in his voice. "Did the bad guys cut the power? Have you called for back up yet?" When his dad had come to his house, telling him to pack an overnight bag, he'd told him and his mother that someone wanted to get to him by using his son. Daryl understood that but had been surprised when they'd come to the loft instead of a safehouse.
Before Simon could reply to his son's hushed questions, the rattling of the door became more pronounced. Then the sound moved from the front door to the windows and the doors leading to the balcony, increasing to the point that no one knew why the glass was not shattering all over the place. Jim thanked whoever was looking after them that the others could not see what he was seeing... the undulating shadows that played outside the transparent panes, writhing forms which re-created nightmares both past, present, and to come. He shivered and adjusted the girl he held in his arms until he could get a free hand out to his partner sitting beside him. Blair felt the hand slide into his and understood. With his other hand he reached out for Simon's, and Simon's went out to his son's. Unity.
The assault stopped abruptly and because Jim had turned down his hearing due to the rattling, he heard the laughter at the same time the others did. It started soft, then grew until the loft shuddered with its force. Even if none of them had been confronted with evil before, all recognized the origin of the laughter, knew and understood the darkness for what it was. Then once again there was a sudden silence and a stillness.
"Run!" voices screeched, blended in such tight unison that they became a single sound. "Run now! While you can! Run!"
"Everyone stay where you are," Jim said calmly, squeezing the hands he held. "It can't get in so it wants us out."
"Don't listen to him! He knows nothing. He is nothing," the voices taunted. "He pretends but he is powerless against us. You are all powerless. Escape now and be spared. Stay and be destroyed. He can't protect you. No one can protect you now!"
"Dad?" Daryl asked, his voice still shaky. "Who is this? What is he talking about? Is he talking about Det. Ellison?"
"Shhh, son. It'll be okay soon."
"You said someone wanted to get to you through me. But that doesn't sound like some 'one', Dad. What is this? What's happening?"
"Demonic forces," Blair said, understanding that Daryl needed to hear the words from someone. Of all in the room, he would probably be the one most affected by these events. Flip was not only much younger and therefore more capable of forgetting about this night, but she was also a native of New Orleans. She had grown up believing in the supernatural, was surrounded by people who had psychic gifts. But Daryl would not be able to forget this and the teen probably had always assumed that the supernatural was something dreamed up by movie producers and TV execs. "They exist, Daryl. And they are here."
They sensed indecision in the group, a weakness to be exploited. "We can protect you, Daryl," they hissed. "If you leave now, you can survive. You can go home to your mama. Leave now, son. Leave!"
Daryl felt Simon's fingers dig into his palm, even before his dad said, "Don't listen, Daryl. Trust me. Trust us."
The young man knew that if he got up and headed to the door, no one could stop him in time because of the darkness. But he trusted his dad and he trusted the other men in the room. They had protected him before. "I'm not going anywhere, Dad. I'm not leaving, whoever you are! You can't make me betray them!"
"Bad move, Daryl. He can't save you. Don't you see that?"
"Who? Who can't save me?"
"The Sentinel. You don't know about him, do you, Daryl? These people you trust? They've been keeping secrets from you. They've lied to you. You owe them nothing. Leave them."
"No!"
"Then die, brat!"
Thunder rolled and lightning flashed outside the loft. The doors pulled at their hinges and the building shook so badly a glass toppled off the counter in the kitchen and crashed to the floor. Then the howling started. Screams of tortured souls rebounded off the walls, their blood spattering against the windows, the lightning revealing the red trails as the globs ran down the glass scribbling words in some ancient, perhaps enchanted text.
On and on it went until Jim, his vision in infrared mode, spied what could only be the first vestiges of the rising sun. "Sunrise," he called softly to his comrades as the noise began to fade. "Morning is on the way."
"And with light, darkness retreats," Blair added with a sigh of relief. "The right thing would be to suggest we should try for some sleep, man. But after that..."
"Maybe this will help." Jim walked over and hit the light switch. The room flooded with brightness. He looked at the bleary eyes staring back at him. "Everyone back to their beds. Everything will be clearer after a few hours of rest." Someone snorted. "Well, our minds will be clearer anyway."
"Sounds like a plan," Simon said, standing and stretching. "C'mon, Daryl. I'll turn on the light beside Jim's bed."
Daryl rolled bloodshot eyes. "I haven't needed a nightlight since I was five, Dad," he said with typical teenager dramatics.
"Guess it's a good thing I'm not doing it for you then. Good night, gentlemen, little missy." He prodded his son up the stairs.
"So, Flip, you think you can get a little more sleep in?" Jim asked the child, stroking her cheek as she curled into a tiny ball on the loveseat.
"You'll be nearby?"
"I sure will, sweetheart."
"'Kay." Her eyes fluttered shut.
"Innocence is a good thing," Blair said as he watched the child drift off with enviable ease.
"She's still fighting those drugs in her system," Jim pointed out worriedly. He looked at his roommate who plopped down on the sofa. "It's time for Shamans and Guides to be hitting the pillow too, Chief."
Blair laughed softly. "You think I'm actually going to go to sleep after what we just went through? Man, I have nightmares after watching something like that on the tube. To actually go through it... Tell you what. You sleep and I'll keep watch."
"Nothing to watch for, buddy. It's over... for now."
"Are you sure? There are day demons, you know."
"Yeah, but they haven't reported for duty yet."
"How do you kn... You just know, don't you?" Jim nodded. "Okay. But I just got comfortable here. Give me a few minutes then I'll turn in. What about you?" he asked as he fought to keep his eyes open.
"I'll probably end up in your bed," Jim said, smiling as he heard the even breathing that signaled his partner was asleep. He pulled down the afghan draped across the back of the sofa and tucked him in.
Debating whether to crash in Blair's bed, he walked past the balcony doors noticing that there wasn't a trace of blood to be seen, even with his enhanced sight. Had it all been a very bad dream, a case of mass hypnosis? It was what he should have been convincing himself of, but he was in too deep now to bother with deluding himself. Hell had made its first attack last night. It hadn't been pretty. It hadn't been fun. But they had survived.
That was enough.